What running a half marathon taught me

Although I signed up for the half marathon in Michaelmas term, I started training for it without intending to back when I graduated from JC. That was when I started running around my block, first for 10 minutes, then pushing myself to 20 minutes, fueled by the strong beat of Bollywood music. 

Then I ran for a full half hour, which seemed an age.

Then one day I discovered the Green Corridor, the lush bones left from the removed train track behind my house, and I run along that tunnel, without knowing when to stop or turn back. And I ran and ran and saw a sign saying 'Bukit Timah' and felt like I had arrived on Saturn and that was the first time I broke the 10km barrier.

When I came to England and all the British girls came into college already knowing each other from offerholders day, I ran and then took a train to watch The Winter's Tale for Grandma's 86th birthday.

I ran when I felt lonely, and when the sun shined particularly bright. I took pride in knowing I could run to Girton, I took peace in knowing that if I ran far enough along the river I could get to an enclosed paddock where three horses just like the Starhill ponies live.

And then back in Singapore, when I felt a bit like bent puzzle piece that no longer fit where it belonged, running was again a constant that kept my life rhythm steady and my heart rate up. 

When I went to the podiatrist in the Christmas break, I told him about training for the half marathon while he showed me how I talk more on the outside edges of my feet than normal (who walks normally?) He told me to mix my long runs with shorter interval runs and said that he understood that long runs felt like a beautiful escape but that training is not escape but improvement and facing a race head on. I didn't know psychology came into podiatry but there it was. My long runs were sometimes me running away - in first year it was running away from loneliness, in second year from work and stress.

On my second full distance run before the half marathon, I ran by the river and listed (out loud) all the things I am thankful for. 'Trees, family, horses, albatrosses, bananas, trains, the sky, rain, breathing, legs...' I went on for more than twenty minutes, just moving, speaking, filling with gratitude (and also fatigue but).

One of the important things before the actual race is tapering in the last two weeks.

Two weeks before the race was when I found out that Grandma passed away. Two weeks to the day. I ran to clear my head, I ran to a field to hear the birds that grandma always had an ear out for, to feel the wind that she'd been shut away from in those last months in the nursing home. I ran to an open space to speak to the air and ask God what I was meant to do when I felt so sad and scared.

I ran, I walked, I listened to my legs and my heart and when they said 'you are tired, grief is tiring' I lent against a fence and cried.

The day before the race, when you are meant to rest, I attended Grandma's Thanksgiving service and afterwards completed three rounds of an obstacle course that my cousins and I devised in a playground. I ate lots of puff pastry snacky things instead of race meal food. I talked to people who remembered her beautiful life instead of reading up on race strategy.

On the morning of the half marathon it was raining and grey and cold. I walked to the start line with Becky, I shivered and felt tense and cold. And then the timer started and tugged along by the thousands of other runners around me I was pulled from one road to the next, my legs moving but not really feeling like they were running. By the time we got to Grantchester and the rain stopped, I felt amazing. I high-fived the children who stood cheering on the sides of the road, I read the t-shirts of the runners around me, and then I sped up too fast before the last bit of the race. So the last two miles felt like death, except for the last 100 metres which felt like flying and drowning simultaneously (which I suppose is also death).

And although my family didn't see me on the actual race course, after I finished I ran into their arms, the arms which cheered for me through A levels and when I got my scholarship, that waved goodbye when I flew over here, that welcomed me back after months, that waved me off again. And perhaps that was why, tired as I was, I ran my fastest time. Because I wasn't running away from something anymore, but towards something, or someones who I know are my safety and my support.