Is it 13 miles? Or 13 kilometres?
‘Kar legi tera mile?’ (Will you be able to do 13 miles?)
While some wished me luck, my loved ones worried. Particularly my mother and close cousins. But Indian mums are like that. They worry about you all the time, almost as if it would be worrisome not to worry about your child. From experience, primary causes for concern tend to hover around the child having eaten too little, lost too much weight, been working extremely hard and not had enough sleep/rest!
Anyway, earlier this year, I signed up for a Barclays team, ‘Make a Difference Day’ (MADD) agreeing to give up a few hours to support an event organised by a charity called ReachOut. Their purpose is to support young people from disadvantaged communities in London and Manchester through one-to-one mentoring. They provide academic support and character education to help young people get a better start in life.
The event set up was similar to Dragon’s Den (TV show) where student teams had to pitch for a loan of £10,000 to secure funding for a music festival. They had to plan the entire event including the acts and logistics such as venue, toilets, security and food stalls.
I was both amused and amazed to see their presence of mind and severity of their dilemmas. They could put David Cameron to shame in the level of seriousness with which they debated and analysed issues like the selection of the acts.
‘Should we take Beyoncé, Jessie J, One Direction, Katy Perry or Ed Sheeran?’
‘If we take Beyoncé, Jay Z will definitely come!’
‘So could we put his name on the poster?’
And they could have discussed this forever.
Somewhere in all that excitement, we were asked if we would like to sign up for a half marathon in Hackney, London, just four weeks away. When heads turn to you in anticipation, saying no is often not an option.
The longest distance I’ve ever done before is a 6K; the JPMorgan Chase Challenge. With two kids in tow, and a full on day job, I only ever managed a maximum distance of 7 miles when practicing.
The 10th of May turned out to be a gloriously sunny Sunday. It’s another matter that my app said it would be cloudy.
The Hackney Marshes were abuzz with over 11,000 participants gearing up for the run. Starting from the Hackney Marshes and heading into the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, passing by Hackney Empire, Broadway Market and London Fields, I made it all in 2 hours and 50 mins.
13 miles is a long way, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to do. I was told to take it easy since there were no medals to be won, and I had decided I’d have a nice time regardless.
And I had a grand time. Making my way home with an amazing goody-bag full of drinks and bounce balls, I couldn’t help reflecting on the period from the sign-up to the medal and came away realising a few things:
Sometimes, you just have to believe: I went primarily because I believed in the cause, and my team believed in me. I didn’t know whether it was doable or not, but I knew I had to try. Not that I climbed the Everest Base Camp, but little intent goes a long way.
Sometimes, the spectators are the real stars: As we ran through the streets, through the marshes and the local pubs, there were throes of people lined up along both sides. Little children handing out Jelly babies, people cheering, police keeping the trouble makers out (believe it or not, a car got in and the driver thought it was okay to carry on, he got pulled over pretty sharpish), late risers sitting by their door steps in pyjamas sipping coffee as they saw us run, bands playing bhangra dhols, and so much more. I mean, there was no excuse not to run. How could anyone let them down?
Medals are great. Not sometimes, always: No I didn’t run for recognition and I like to believe that I’ve have passed that age where I would do something for a medal. But having done what you wanted to do, a little positive stroke always helps. It always feels great to have a medal round your neck!
Sometimes, sun screen is not such a bad idea.
A huge thank you to all those of you who sponsored me and supported me.
