Jessica Paterson

What the running coaches didn't tell me nearly ruined me!

So, you've never run further than 10km? Me neither. My 12km run on Saturday was literally the longest of my life. I know I've signed up for a half marathon, so I shouldn't be particularly phased by this distance.... I know I'm  going to be doing a hefty 21km soon enough. But you see, every run from here on in will be a milestone. Every week I will be running further than I ever thought possible. Every run from here on in is going to be TOUGH. 

When we reached the 6km mark, something didn't feel right. I know the Bay Run course pretty well... I felt like our finishing point was further than another 6km away. Something wasn't adding up... but I'm not good at maths (and my brain was hardly working, given I had already run 6km) so I just ignored my subconscious telling me things weren't right. 

At 10km, knowing we were close, I picked up a little bit of speed. I wanted this thing to END. But my distances just weren't adding up. The finish line FELT further away to me. By the time I had run another few minutes, I knew I'd been fooled. 

We were being made to run 13km, a whole kilometer longer than our training program had led us to believe. 

My hips were aching. My feet blistered. My spirit deflated (I WAS KNACKERED and contemplating, with every step, how on EARTH I was going to make the 21km distance in a few months' time). 

Most people smiled as they crossed the finish line. I grimaced, then promptly collapsed. What a nasty trick. What a cheap, nasty trick. What a vicious, cheap, nasty trick. 

A few cupcakes and a coffee later and I realised I hadn't died. I had - unknowingly - made it further than I even realised. My body was capable of more than I had given it credit for.

Whilst I certainly don't want to be surprised again, I'm PROUD that I made it. And made it in a semi decent time to boot.

Nice work, Paterson. Nice work. 

Week 3 of training and I'm sweating like Tillikum's newest trainer at SeaWorld

How am I going, three weeks into my training I hear you ask? I keep reliving this moment from my London days when I first started running for "fitness" instead of just playing competitive sport. There I was, jogging along a dark road in St John's Wood, right next to a massive council estate when I needed to pass a pedestrian on the pavement. As I passed her she literally shreaked in terror and clutched her handbag in pure panic mode. I asked if she was OK and she started laughing and proceeded to tell me that my heavy breathing made her think I was a mugger coming up behind her to to steal her bag. It's been about 8 years since that autumn evening near Primrose Hill, and suddenly I'm in that same exact place.... Breathing like I"m out to get someone. 

But things could be worse. I haven't twisted any ankles, or spewed during the track sessions (yet), so it ain't all bad. But geez, all this hard work a shock to this lazy-boned system of mine let me tell you. I am pink faced and sweat-logged five minutes into every session, and I've really been hurting at the end of my runs. I was expecting that there'd be a few rookie runners in my training pod, but alas that isnt the case. Most are fit run-enthusiasts and I feel a bit displaced in that regard. It's brilliant, because i have a wealth of information to tap at my fingertips about pace, tactics, etc.... but it, in truth, a bit disheartening to feel like I'm truly struggling when everyone else is *ahem* taking it in their stride. Still - it's only been three weeks and I'm already fitter than I've been in years so I am highly aware that things are only going to get better. 

I've been running through a chest infection, serious rain, and a sick baby. Secretly, this level of commitment makes me feel like a superstar. Since having my kids I've not really been able to commit to something 100%, but the very early-morning starts mean that I have a built-in babysitter at the ready to watch my kidlets so for the first time I really don't have any excuses left to use. And that feels brilliant!! 

So look. Here's the deal. PLEASE sponsor me because I'm ridiculously grateful for every cent I get, and believe me when I say EVERY dollar goes towards groundbreaking medical research that could save your life. Your kid's life. Your dad's life. Or even the life of that shopkeeper who you don't know the name of but is really, really nice every time you go into his store. 

xxx

Anxious about starting my half marathon training? Who...me?

It probably comes as no surprise that I'm feeling ready to walk away from this event before I've even started. I'm a perfectionist with anxiety... a great bloody mix for events that require me to participate in group activities and try not to judge my performance.

But hey. This isn't about ME. This is about cancer research, so I will push all these stupid, paralysing thoughts out of my mind and focus on that one truth. I'm running to raise money to find a cure for cancer. That's really all that matters. But incase you're wondering, here's the limiting thoughts that my monkey mind is throwing at me like overripe bananas. 

1. You'll never make it. It is a loooooooong way. Some people, like my hubby, could probably churn out this distance without any training (at a push). But not me. Those 21km might as well be the distance from earth to the sun for me. I struggle running 5km at the moment, so quadrupling this distance seems impossible right now. Kind of like me ever getting my pre-baby body back again. (I had to put down my chocolate just to type this blog, so I really do think that last point is impossible). 

2. You don't have the right gear. I'm turning up without the right shoes, or an iPod (do people use those anymore?) or an armband-phone-holder-thingee that I don't even know the name of. I seriously don't even have a proper waterbottle. Or a hat. I'm going to look like the absolute fraud that I am, right? 

3. You're deserting your baby. OK, OK, I know this is silly, but it's the truth. I currently still breastfeeding my son at 6/630am every morning and this is going to be stopping every training day. EEEEK. He'll be screaming his bald head off while I'm gone and that's laying on guilt thicker than butter on raisin toast. 

4. You'll never reach the fundraising target. This one keeps me up at night. Sure, I've got 14wks to go, but I'm already panicked about it. I'm currently thinking "woe is me" that I don't have a 9-5 day job, because I won't be able to do the bake-sales that I usually do for fundraisers. I'm coming up with alternatives, like offering ot babysit in my neighbourhood in return for donations, but I'm still nervous I won't reach the target. I have had nightmares of turning up tomorrow and hearing that everyone else has already reached their goals and lah-dee-dah wasn't it easy? I HATE COMPARING MYSELF TO OTHERS. It makes me miserable. So I'm trying to concentrate on the donations I have had already - without having even run a single step - and that lifts my mood considerably!

5. It's for my mum....and the rest.... My mother survived cancer. My two best friends lost their mothers. It is a lottery that we seem to have won, and the loss my friends faced is always etched in my mind beacuse they were not so lucky. I think of mum's "bravery" (because she was brave enough to admit she was scared, but also strong enough to take on our own fears)

I also know that the best thing about events like these is that you look back and feel enormous pride because it WAS such a challenge. Not just physically, of course. But also having to add another commitment into your already fully-committed life, sacrificing your mornings or evenings for the sake of something more important than your routine, and having to hound friends, family, colleagues and Mr. Joe Public for money on a regular basis. 

So yes, I'm nervous about what I'm about to do. But I'm also looking forward to meeting new people, getting heaps of well-earned massages, and doing my part to honour my mother, and all those who have been affected by cancer in whichever way, shape or form. 

WISH ME LUCK. 

x