I’m not a real runner

I’ve often considered whether I’m a ‘real’ runner or not, particularly as I was starting out, and especially when that elitist attitude towards ‘pace’ rears its ugly head, so I thought I’d write down my thoughts as they fell out of my brain this morning.

I’m not fast enough. I shuffle around and collect generic medals but I’ve never won a race. I’ve come first lady at parkrun a couple of times, but they were both on a rainy day when it was quiet. I was genuinely really chuffed, as I usually am when I get 1st in my age category, but I know parkrun is a run, NOT a race, so that definitely doesn’t count. I’ve come nearly last in a few events too so it all averages out. Sometimes I do events just for food, where they don’t even give you a medal, just a pie, or a cake, or a pat on the back, or a printed certificate. A couple of times I’ve even bought my own race memento, like my Belvoir Challenge mug, or my Hebden patches.

I’m not a real runner.

I sometimes look enviously at the paces other people post on Strava and wish I was a more natural runner. I mean, I’m tall, and look like I have quite an athletic figure, and should be better at running, but I can’t imagine running a half marathon at 6 minute mile pace. I can’t even run a mile that quickly. I only took up running properly in my early thirties. I wonder if I had enjoyed it as a youngster whether I’d be better at it now. Instead I once cried when school told me I had to compete in the 800 metre event on sports day in year 7. I cried so hard they didn’t make me do it. I cried on my first ever proper run in my early twenties too; it felt impossible.

I’m not a real runner.

I walk too. I’ve walked on every one of my marathons and ultras, including my marathon PB. According to some, this means I haven’t technically ever run a marathon. But I have. I walk up hills sometimes. I do run up them too but I always need a breather at the top. I stop and take lots of photos (that’s another excuse I use to stop on runs). I also take the dogs running with me so the run is more for them than me. One time, Bella did 3 (THREE) poos during a parkrun. I’ve sworn at my husband before now, when he’s been patiently trying to pace me to a PB. Anyone would think I didn’t like running. But I do. I like pushing my limits, seeing how far I can go. I’ve found the limit where I get stomach cramps and physically poo myself (that’s around 70 kilometres give or take a few), but I’ve not yet found the limit where I’ve had enough and need to stop. Perhaps I’m not trying hard enough. To be fair, I did once lie down at the end of a 10k where I ran a PB. I’ve lost a couple of toenails to marathons though, so that’s pretty hardcore I suppose. On reflection, that was probably just because my shoes were too small (I wear a full size up now when running long distance).

I’m not a real runner.

When I run, I turn bright red. This used to really embarrass me at school PE lessons. I thought it was because I was unfit – it turns out I’m just very efficient at cooling myself down, which is apparently a good sign of fitness. It’s also the same reason I sweat lots. I also do this weird thing with my right arm where it swings across my body like I’m ready to punch somebody. I know I do it, but I can’t stop myself doing it. I know I don’t get my knees high enough, which means my heels kind of kick out to the side. Again it’s something I work on – driving myself forward, drills (which I don’t practice enough) but it’s hard to change your running form and make yourself look like a gazelle when you’re more of a giraffe, especially a giraffe who’s pushing 40. My race photos are usually terrible. I mean I could never wear make up on a run and look as stunning and natural as some people do, because of the sweating, bright red, affliction, but even so, I’ve usually got a gurn on my face anyway. I’m GOOD at gurning while running. That’s definitely one of my strengths.

I’m not a real runner.

I’m a member of a few clubs, but I rarely go along because it’s hard fitting running into my evening routine. I feel like I’m taking myself away from my family, which doesn’t seem fair, because it’s not like I’m a real runner or anything. It’s just something I do to keep fit and because I enjoy it. I feel that mummy guilt a LOT. But then I remember our daughter watches everything I do and that actually, going out for a run is a GOOD example to set. She asked to run a full 5k parkrun with me last month so she obviously sees running as a fun thing to do. I still get unnecessarily nervous about running with others though, that I won’t be quick enough for them, and I’ll get left behind. It’s never happened yet because I’m actually a fairly average ‘middle of the pack’ runner, and other runners are generally really nice and won’t leave somebody behind. Whenever I do make it along to one of my club track sessions, I am usually the slowest (on occasion I’ve been the only woman there at all), but I am given as much encouragement by our coach as everyone else. And when I get lapped, you can’t even tell whereabouts I am in the pack anyway, so it’s all good. And nobody actually cares.

I’m not a real runner.

But I keep running. I enjoy running. I love being part of the running community. When I hear somebody mention running, my ears prick up and I’ll immediately try to sidle into the conversation. Running makes me feel more like myself. Running produces these amazing endorphins that I can feel fizzing through my body for about an hour after I run. I am skilled at the snot rocket. I own about twenty pairs of running shoes. I spend hours reading articles and research papers about running and sports science. I design myself training plans for events that really matter to me. I enjoy the challenge of piecing together training plans for others with all the knowledge and experience I’ve gained over the years. I LOVE coaching runners, and especially observing how they run and trying to tweak things to make them better runners. I love helping others improve, and I don’t need to feel like I am a good runner myself to do that – I simply give them the tools and the plan and help to keep them motivated. I especially like coaching beginners, because I remember the struggle well – that difficulty to get breathing right, the first time you run a mile without walking, the first time you complete a race or a parkrun.

Am I a real runner?

Running is a huge part of my life. I’ve made a career I enjoy out of it. I enjoy participating in parkrun and races. I may not be the fastest; I may not win races; I may not look like a natural runner; I may sweat lots; I may walk sometimes. But actually, on reflection, maybe I AM a real runner.

I am a REAL runner.

I’d love to hear your thought on this. Do you ever doubt that you’re a real runner?