It’s late afternoon in January and I’m running in Richmond Park with Holly the loony Labrador. She’s carrying a stick the size of an average human leg and looking very pleased with herself for having found it. People who catch sight of her point and laugh, but she’s oblivious to the mockery and laps up the attention. Her tail’s wagging in windmills, and her nose is joyfully muddy from the recent exploration of a truly disgusting puddle. She’s also just spent a happy half-hour running in and out of her favourite stream (it’s where she found the stick). She’s wet, she’s muddy, she’s out of breath, and she’s struggling along with most of a tree in her mouth. Life, if you’re Holly, simply does not get better than this.
As for me, I’m also covered in mud having tumbled over on a slippery slope. I’ve also just run through a huge, deep puddle and my left foot is both soaking and freezing. The icy cold has taken hold in my ears and fingers, and the biting wind is slicing straight through my supposedly windproof jacket. There’s a low sun overhead temporarily blinding me, and I’m having to run faster than planned because I fear I may be late picking up my kids from school. Life, if you’re me, simply doesn’t get better than this.
As the poet Wendy Cope puts it (she’s talking about an enormous orange, but it may as well have been running):
And that... made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately...
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
All of which has got me thinking.
Here we have two mammals; both cold, wet and tired, but both as happy as happy can be. The canine has always enjoyed getting muddy and out of breath, but the human? Well, this feels like a revelation. Who could have guessed that a lazy, unfit smoker with a mild Frazzles addiction could find such deep joy in such uncomfortable circumstances?
I’m not worried about the past, and I’m not fretting about the future. I’m simply in the moment. I am here, with this muddy dog, on this woody hillside, concentrating on where to place this next footstep among this unruly tangle of tree roots. The here and now. The journey not the destination. People spend lifetimes trying to achieve this state.
The thought occurs to me that I should commemorate this feeling because quite frankly, if I can find peace and serenity running in Richmond Park, anyone can. I’m sure that many of you reading this, those who really know how to run and who’ve been doing it all your lives, might despair at how much I still have to learn. You may be thinking how dare he write a book about running? And largely, I agree with you. I don’t pretend to be an expert (though many of the people I’ve spoken to are) and I do of course know I’m not especially good at it. Having come to running relatively late, I’ve simply been struck by how brilliant it is. So I just wanted to celebrate that fact, and perhaps to inspire. That’s why I asked 28 amazing people about their own routes into running. And if you haven’t run in years, or indeed ever, do please just find some trainers and see where they take you.
Emily and Matthew
Emily had just turned 11 when she wrote this (every word of it). Matthew, who did the same, had just turned nine.
Emily
I never thought I could do sport. Once, on sports day, I cried because I thought I wasn’t any good. I really REALLY didn’t want to go for a run with my dad the first time, but he insisted. We tried to run alongside the river for one mile but I found it really hard to keep going without having a break for walking.
The next time I did manage the whole mile but I still found it tough. Actually, now I think about it, I really hated running when we started. Once, during a half term holiday, we went for a run and I almost cried again.
But after a while, we went to our first parkrun in Wimbledon Common. It’s two muddy laps making up 5km and I thought the second one would never end. It was a fantastic moment when we did finish, me and my brother and our dad together, and for the first time I was proud of something sporty that I’d achieved. I could run 5km – epic!
Soon after that, I was surprised to be promoted to all the B teams at school, and then occasionally even to the A teams in netball and hockey. My sporting confidence grew and grew.
But then my younger brother beat my parkrun PB, and that was a big blow to my confidence. I sometimes dreaded going out running with my dad and Matthew on Saturday mornings. But then I realised that it doesn’t matter who’s quicker or who holds the family 5km record. I want to run fast and I want to do my best but I’m running my own race.
Running has helped in other ways too. I’m definitely more chilled out now. These days I can run a 10km race in less than an hour, and even though I don’t always look forward to our weekend runs (sorry Daddy!), I do love the way it makes you feel afterwards. And I enjoy our celebratory croissants and doughnuts.
And there haven’t been any more tears at sports day. In fact, during my final term at primary school, I won a medal in the long distance race!
Matthew
Like Emily, I found running hard to start with, but it taught me that if you work hard at something you can succeed.
At the beginning I only managed to get by because I knew I was struggling less than my sister. But then I realised I could actually do this, I’m quite fast and I can run a long way. I liked the way it made me feel afterwards. I like the way I try to overtake as many people as possible at the end of every race. We’ve done some great runs together, dad and me. Once we ran a 10k race together. It was really hilly and a bit tough, but I was the only kid running and I felt very proud at the finish.
As my dad told me after he finished an ultra-marathon, every run is a chance to learn little things about myself, and a chance to let myself shine.
Acknowledgements
A few kind folk to thank. First and foremost my wife Caroline. I mean I’m beyond grateful for everything anyway, but specifically for her help with this book during a holiday in France, for giving up almost every evening to read through the manuscript with me and suggest improvements. These 26.2 chapters would be a lot poorer if we’d stuck to our usual French regime and cracked open a bottle of rosé as soon as the kids were in bed. Thank you my darling, I really do appreciate it.
Thanks also to our three wonderful children, Emily, Matthew and Mary, who put up with an unusually distracted daddy as the deadlines loomed.
My heartfelt thanks to Chris Evans for a fantastic foreword and lots of encouragement. Chris was writing Call the Midlife at the same time as I was writing this, and there was nothing like finding out how few words I’d written by comparison to motivate me to get on with it.
Speaking of which, the help and support I received from the good people at Bloomsbury has been absolutely invaluable. Especially from Charlotte Croft, Sarah Connelly and Henry Lord. I knew nothing about the process of writing a book, so I truly appreciate all their advice and guidance along the way. It’s been fun.
Also a massive thank you to all the people who gave up their time to be interviewed: experts, celebrities, successful sportsmen and women, and the bloke I bumped into (literally) on Hammersmith Bridge. There are 35 of you in total. So to the following people (in order of appearance) thank you, and I owe you a beer: Paula Radcliffe, Joss Naylor, Steve Cram, Mike Antoniades, Donovan Bailey, Paul Smith, Nicky Campbell, Angi Copson, Sally Gunnell, Noel Thatcher, Simon Kemp, Jenson Button, Jo Scott-Dalgleish, Chrissie Wellington, Andy Lane, Liz Yelling, Martin Yelling, Nell McAndrew, Alistair Brownlee, Jonny Brownlee, Tom Williams, Helen Skelton-Myler, Rory Coleman, Claire Maxted, Allison Curbishley, Jo Pavey, Jennifer Bradley, Colin Jackson, Graham Albans, Richard Nerurkar, Greg Whyte, Scott Forbes, Ryan, Emily and Matthew.
And last of all, thank you to my two faithful running companions, Holly the Labrador (who never complains) and my injured left knee (which frequently complains but largely gets ignored). Both cover more daily miles than is probably good for them, I’m grateful that they stick with me.
My constant running companion, Holly the Labrador. She loves sticks, the bigger the better…<
br />
… and muddy puddles, the muddier the better!
My first ever race, the Great North Run, with super-chaperone Paul Smith, a.k.a. Lord of the Streak – he’s run every day for, like, ever! (Paul Smith)
Finishing that first race. What a feeling! (Paul Smith)
VO2 max test. How hard can 12 minutes on a treadmill possibly be?
…This hard.
On the start line of the inspirational Invictus Games, for wounded, injured or sick soldiers. It’s a privilege to be there.
I like to think all my running rubbed off on Chris, who secretly trained for the 2015 London Marathon. He’s now a confirmed runner who even runs to his Radio 2 Breakfast Show some mornings.
Favourite run of all time, the 2014 London Marathon. The atmosphere was astonishing – tidal waves of good wishes helping every runner every step of the way. (Marathonfoto)
Very lucky to have Hyde Park as part of my running commute to work. You can frequently forget you’re in the middle of a massive metropolis and lose yourself among leaves like still fireworks… (Tom Sandars)
Finishing the 2.4m swim at the Outlaw triathlon. Just a 112m bike and a marathon to go… (David Pearce)
A glorious start to an unforgettable day, my first Ironman distance triathlon. (David Pearce)
Kent Roadrunner Marathon. Plan is to go sub 2:50 – so far, so good… (Kent Roadrunner Marathon (tzruns))
…but I soon I realise it’s not going to be my day! (Kent Roadrunner Marathon (tzruns))
Emily (8) and Matthew (6) complete their first 5km parkrun. Proud moment.
Matthew (8) running his first 10k, representing Richmond in the Battle of the Boroughs in Greenwich Park – and loving it! Running has given both him and his sister Emily so much added confidence. (Charles Whitton Photography)
With Chrissie Wellington after a breathtakingly beautiful 13.1 miles (plus a few extra getting lost) across the Lake District. Chrissie, obviously, finished far ahead of me. (Brand Events/Keswick Mountain Festival)
Running 100km in one go. Passersby look at you like you’re bonkers. They’re not entirely wrong… (SportivePhoto)
…but the feeling when you finish is second to none. (SportivePhoto)
At the finish of the Windsor Half Marathon with producer pal Graham. He only started running a few months before. I ran 19 miles to the start and another 19 home again afterwards, just to see what that was like. (It did sting.)
Baby Mary is already showing signs of becoming the latest runner in the family!
My cousin Vassos in the thick of one of our epic pre-marathon suppers.
On Radio 2 duty at London 2012.
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First published 2016
© Vassos Alexander, 2016
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ISBN: Print: 978-1-4729-2153-6
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