When I
used to play rugby there was a moment during the match, where I felt the fear
and thrill in the anticipation of the next 80 minutes. That moment was at the
beginning of the match, when the referee blew his whistle and the opposition
fly-half kicked the ball into the air towards me and my fellow team mates.
There were generally two ways the ball would be kicked to us. The first would
be a quick short kick luring us forward to get the ball, whilst allowing the
opposition to steal the ball in mid-air or quickly allowing them to nail our
unsuspecting player (or me) to the ground. The other was a high, slow ball that
fell deep in our territory which, even though it allowed us time to gather the
ball, meant we were pinned back in our territory. Each approach presented its
own problems, but also provided the excitement of rugby and is what made the
game so fun to play.
I stopped
playing rugby back in 2014, but my current situation reminds me of this memory
of playing rugby. I will be moving to Bedford in March, and leaving London
after nearly four lively years in one of the world’s most exciting cities. In
fact, I stopped playing rugby when I moved to London in 2014; after having a
great time with my club in Maidstone and accumulating one too many niggles. It
was this anticipation of moving to London, the excitement of moving to a big
city and the apprehension of the unknown, which brings back the memory of
receiving that first kick of the match.
Whilst I currently
prepare for my move to Bedford, I feel like I am about to receive that first
kick again. It is like there is this snapshot of a moment in time where you do
not know what is going to happen, but you know everything will change. So now,
as I sit in my flat packing, I have more fear of a box falling down on top of
me than some expertly kicked high ball landing in my hands. There is this feeling of fear of the
unknown mixed in with the excitement of what could be, which propels me forward- quite literally- in my training at the moment.
That
snapshot of the kick also reminds me about appreciating what has gone before
and what is about to happen. Running can be quite a lonely sport, with a lot of
training done alone; which is especially true for marathon running. When I came
to London I thought I knew something about how to train for a marathon and then I joined London Heathside. Not
only was the club incredibly friendly, but it showed me just how much there was
to learn from running and frankly how little I knew. What I found so good about
joining Heathside was how much you could learn from other people and how
willing they were to talk about their own running experiences. It made such a
difference being able to share the woes of injury, the fatigue of endurance
training and the sweet feeling of victory when you get a personal best within a
friendly club.
For now,
and as the snow falls in London, that atmosphere will be put on ice as I move
to Bedford. I am already looking for a new club and am excited about meeting
new people in the running community, but I also think it’s good to look back on all the fun things I
have done with my former club. So if you
ever find yourself in North London and are looking for somewhere to run; I
couldn’t recommend a better place than Heathside.
Postscript
A huge
thank you goes to Jacob Howe who set me on the path of actually thinking and
analysing my running, rather than just running round like a headless chicken;
Jacob also provided me with excellent advice, as well as to all the runners who
attended the track and embarked on their own marathon journeys. Jerry Odlin the
Chairman of the Heathside, and last but not least the club’s cross-country
captains who rekindled my love of running around in the mud.
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