A running tribute

I lost my nan (that’s what we call grandmothers in the north west!) this week. That’s a strange expression isn’t it. All to avoid saying the dreaded ‘d’ word. We didn’t misplace her, or forget to pick her up. She died. There, said it. She’d had a decent innings, a good life and was very ill, so it wasn’t a surprise but we’ve a pretty close family so it hurts nonetheless. As much as I enjoy my life, work and social life (OK, who am I kidding...I mean tri training) here in Dubai, at times like these I feel an awfully long way away from everybody. I know there’s nothing I could do if I were there, but that doesn’t change how I feel. 

I spoke to her over the phone quite a bit in the last few weeks (as much as she was able to maintain a conversation, anyway) but wish I’d been able to see her a last time. On the other hand, when I did last see her a few months ago, she didn’t look too sick and was in good spirits, so, from a selfish point of view, I’m kind of glad that that’s the way I’ll get to remember her.

I’m heading home for the funeral which means I’ll miss the last triathlon of the year here, probably a good thing coz I’ve found motivation quite hard to come by this week. Death is like that, I guess. Sucks a little bit of life out of everyone around it too, for a while at least. I have the Dubai Creek Striders Half Marathon tomorrow and have been umming and aahing over it for the same reason, but I think now I’m going to give it a go. 

When my mam (that’s what we call mothers in the north west) texted me to let me know nan had gone, my first impulse was to go for a run. It was the middle of the day, I was in work, and I’ve watched enough films to know that on these occasions you’re supposed to hit the bottle or spark up a cigarette, but I wanted to run. I rode and ran very hard later that night and that made me feel better. I’m not sure what this says about me, and guess it probably says nothing any healthier or more balanced than tucking into a bottle of scotch or pack of Marlboro Reds, but there it is...

So, I’m going to run tomorrow. I’ve not done much training over distance for a while, instead concentrating on picking speed up over the sprint 5k distance, but I’m going to leave it all out there. My PB is 1:36 and I hope to beat that, destroy it. I’m going to try to at least, coz that’s the therapy that running brings – in challenging, pushing and hurting yourself, alongside hundreds of others doing likewise, you reaffirm that you’re alive and what a wonderful, surprising and amazing thing life can be.

This might mark me out as a loon who should be wheeled out to the asylum but, when I did Ironman Wales this summer, I spoke to my grandad (who died several years ago now) quite a few times throughout the race. Something like an Ironman, such an overwhelmingly huge undertaking, you need another reason to carry on going at times. You need to vocalise the pains and frustrations that you feel and, to badly paraphrase Lennon (after all, today is the anniversary of his death): 'I don't believe in magic, I don't believe in I-ching, I don't believe in Bible, I don't believe in Tarot, I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in my family, and that's my reality.'

So tomorrow, as trivial as a little, local half marathon may be, my nan will be running it with me. Hopefully, she's feelign strong coz I might need a push here and there!

“The real purpose of running isn't to win a race. It's to test the limits of the human heart.” – Bill Bowerman