Learning when to stop has been an important lesson for me as I strive to slay the Dragon
You know the person that always says hi, is permanently perky, doesn’t shut up giving positive affirmations and constantly tries to cheer other people up? Well that’s me. Mostly.
Being an eternal optimist has always stood me in good stead. I don’t stress about much, I “grab life by the balls”, and all that stuff. But recently, a swathe of pessimism and bad luck started to chip away at that perky exterior.
Training has certainly suffered as a result of a lack of time, but more worryingly, due to a lack of enthusiasm. It’s been totally out of character. The cherry on top of the Cake of Gloom was a proper belter of a head cold/virus, that struck before the weekend recce that would see me attempt 17 miles from Conwy Castle (start of the Dragon’s Back Race), to the Ogwen Valley support point.
As a merry band of Dragons gathered at the meeting point, I knew that although I wasn’t feeling my best – a lack of sleep, a total shocker of a journey up the night before, and a trepidation that I think everyone experiences before these events, I would nonetheless give it my best.
Early on, as the other Dragons skipped their way up the hills – I knew I was far from skipping – more trudging. Reluctantly, begrudgingly. My legs didn’t want to cooperate and my head – well it felt like it might just explode.
I didn’t want to talk. When the lovely team members asked questions and started chattering, I was one-line answers at best. What the hell was going on? One guy even ran back to check in on me. “I’ve been there”, he said. “It chips away at you mentally.” Boy, was he right. Being back of the pack when you’re working at capacity can feel like a grenade to the brain.
RAW Adventures Event leader Kate knew something was up. She’d seen me running in February and knew that things were amiss. Where was the perky Laura she’d met two months ago? She asked gently, maybe we should think about splitting the group?
I didn’t need much convincing. The pace I was running meant at least another seven hours on the mountain. I didn’t want to hold the others back, and I certainly didn’t want to feel like this for another seven hours.
Save your legs, Kate said, Make the next day count.
We turned back at seven miles – after summitting Tal y Fan, and took a gentler slope back down into Conwy. I’d managed 12 slow miles.
I’d cried. I doubted if this was even achievable. This race is not for the feint hearted. Here I was failing on a recce – what the hell chance did I have on race week?
But here’s the thing. We don’t win all the time. In fact every step of the journey is beset by stumbling blocks – mentally and physically. Sure, I could have run the 17 miles but in doing so, what would the rest of that week’s training look like?
At least my legs were fresh enough to summit Pen Yr Ole Wen the following day – just shy of 1,000 metres. By myself, in the mist.
This is a lesson. A powerful one. That no, sometimes Laura you can’t just steamroller through something and hope you’ll wing it with a smile. That a cold, a virus, a blow to your immune system, really will take it out of you, and you can’t just brush that off.
That it’s OKAY to take a few days to eat, drink, rest, recuperate, and come back to a stronger mindset and feel like you can see a way through.
I couldn’t write this blog post for a while. What was the point, I thought? It’s not even like I can run well at the moment. Who even wants to read this? But I think it’s important that I document the low parts, because everyone deserves to know that failure is crucial. It’s the getting back up that makes us stronger…… and see, even the positive mantras are starting to come back to me again!
By the way. Kate, you’re amazing. I think everyone needs a Kate in their lives.
Vegan Fitness Runner 