Yesterday I ran the first race of my life. It was Asics 10k with a dreamy route through central London – hi Big Ben, hello Admiral Nelson, no falling down on Westminster Bridge, my fair lady – and the reason I signed up was the 5k to 10k training I did with Asics Runkeeper. At some point during the training you are gently nudged, then persistently pushed to enter into a race, and I got so used to following Coach Erin’s instructions that I obeyed. Glad I did.

As challenging as it was (way too hot for a race; I had a cold for the past two weeks and could not complete the training program, lost my voice and my confidence in ever finishing; and generally the idea of running a race is something I hated since primary school) I enjoyed it so much. It was well organised, musicians giving you a boost every other kilometre, water stations spaced out thoughtfully, occasional mist shower bliss, and generally a really nice crowd of about 10,000 people loving running and struggling through it together. There were of a couple moments when I wanted to stop – generally first two kilometres I’m talking myself out of running, but I’m used to ignoring that. Real mental fight kicked in after 7km, which is the farthest I’ve ever run before. I pulled out a prepared stack of tricks out of my sweatband – try mantra: You are strong, be strong! nope, does not work; okay, let’s try transcendence, exit the boundaries of your own physicality and suffering and try to feel collective effort, worked for 30 seconds, good, what’s next; one step at a time, one step at a time, oh, there’s water station, yes please!; next? – oh that’s a good song, suddenly I seeee this is what I wanna beee…;  it is SO HOT, who’s the sadist that thought up of the idea of routing 8th km through Westminster Bridge?!, great it’s uphill too; wow, Big Ben is really beautiful… silence for 15 seconds…; 9km “Blast on!” – sure, that’s gonna happen; just keep moving towards the finish line; here’s the clock – yes! finished!; why are we still running???; noooooooo 0.1k more to the finish line!!!; one step at a time, one step at a time; there’s Andrei! Hi five! Need to smile or he’ll be worried; is this the finish line? is it?! yes it is! air punch! I’ll jog a few seconds more no I can’t I’ll walk. Wow.

Half an hour later, sitting in St James Park – my promised medal on my son (main reason he was such a keen supporter!), enjoying coffee and hot dogs on the grass, I feel happy and grateful for so many things I can’t even begin to list them. 

Happy 33rd Birthday, you runner!