Standing on the pier in Newry on Sunday morning, the queues for the toilets were long, the warm-ups were taken very seriously and the smell of intense heat filled the air.
I had just said goodbye to my daughter, who was off to breakfast with her aunt, and my husband, who had already run about three miles into his half marathon at this point.
You see, he thought it would be a good idea to get me into a 10K race to get back into the habit of running regularly, and if I had trained for it, it would have happened. But I didn't.
I've been walking quite a bit up until now, but when it comes to running I'm not in great shape, I don't have the energy to go out on my own, and when the rest of my running group head out to run a few miles I struggle to keep up.
I was afraid I would not participate at all and just go for a walk.
But for some reason, the negative voice in my head said nothing, which was unusual. Instead, a confident voice said, “What's the worst that can happen?”
The answer was that I would finish last, to which I replied, “So what?” So I quickly went to the back of the pack and told myself over and over that no matter what, I had the strength to finish the race.
Earlier this month, as I watched the people taking part in the Belfast Marathon relay, I regretted not training harder to be at the heart of it all. I was consumed by Fomo – the fear of being left behind – and missing out on the excitement of running.
Newry wasn't my first 10k race, so I knew how to do it and leaned into the idea of doing what I could in the hope that this might motivate me to run again. It was so nice to feel the post-run endorphins again – it had been a long time since I'd felt that way.
As I was running breathlessly down Warrenpoint Road towards Newry I met Aoife, who was running her first 10km and said she had been a bit overwhelmed at the start of the race.
I remember being overwhelmed the first few times I went out. Some people take running very seriously, which is good. But I'd forgotten how seriously they take it until I was nearly pushed over by two guys who were running a half marathon. They were definitely trying to beat their personal best at the finish line, but man, hang in there guys.
We have started taking our 4 year old daughter to Junior Parkrun, which is a great event. We were advised to register her as we don't know her times. However, we don't want or need to know her times. We are grateful she completed the course. She is only 4…
Two lanes of the two-lane road were cleared for the run, giving everyone plenty of space, and I imagine that more experienced runners would be able to spot those struggling a bit and let them pass.
Finish line, not finish time. That's been my motto since I started running. The conversation about times can feel overwhelming, especially when you don't have time to train or you're injured.
We've started taking our four-year-old daughter to Junior Parkrun, which is a great event, but I underestimated the patience it would take to get her to run the 2km course. We manage by taking her to the local coffee shop.
I haven't signed up yet because I want to see if she enjoys it. Every time she joins I'm advised to sign up because if I don't I won't know her times. I don't want to know her times, nor do I need to. I'm grateful that she completed the course. She's only 4…
As with any crowd situation in life, there's a lot of noise to block out, so I focus on the positives on race day: the volunteers, the people on the sidelines cheering on the runners, and especially the couple carrying boxes of snacks to refuel the runners who sprinted, or in my case, slogged by, and the people offering drinking water.
Everyone runs for a reason, for me it's to do something for myself and to spend time with friends.
If my leg muscles allow it I will be taking part in the Vhi Women's Mini Marathon in Dublin on Sunday. It should be a very fun day. Hopefully I'll be back on the road again soon. To be continued…
