Something got me started; how I got into running

Something got me started; well, two things to be precise...

First was the voice of an alumna from the MBA International Banking & Finance programme: “Ey Leeby, when you comin’ to Peru?”. Second, the misty appearance of Machu Picchu rising majestically from the pages of the travel brochure, it really did look quite attractive, if a tad mountainous.

One pal became two and the trip was booked for March 2012. I confess I was pretty apprehensive for a variety of reasons but none more so than the ability to keep up with my two younger and fitter travelling companions in a country where the air was thin.

So at Christmas 2011 I set myself up to begin a fitness regime, of sorts. This began with a run/walk around the block - 25 paces running, 25 paces walking - and the block got progressively bigger and began to incorporate hills; short ones! By the time we were heading off to Peru I could just about manage about a 3 mile joggette - I hoped it was sufficient.

In truth, I had no idea really what resolve would be required until much later, when suffering from Montezuma’s revenge and altitude sickness, never mind abject exhaustion and dehydration! Sorry, I’m making this sound like a trek through the Sahara and it really wasn't as bad as all that, however, the first day of our visit to Machu Picchu began at 3 a.m. A driver would call for us at 4 a.m. and deliver us to the station at the base of the Amazon rain forest to begin our trek on a fairly well-trodden path climbing up to the world famous Inca site. We had no idea how long this would take or what lay on the path before us – ignorance was bliss! Seven gruelling hours later we arrived at the Sun Gate overlooking the settlement; we had survived!

Now you’re probably wondering where this is all going - indeed, as well you might. As we stared down at our fellow visitors, so distant they resembled ants, my one pal stated, “if we can survive this, we can survive anything”.

Her simple statement led us to register for the Birmingham Half marathon that October and training began in earnest, I say 'earnest'; it was all a little hit and miss but we made it around the course.

Thus even more inspired, we made our goal for 2012 Le Marathon du Médoc, destination: Bordeaux, France. Once more, ignorance was bliss; we trained, we rested, we ate quite well, and as warm ups we ran the Shakespeare Half marathon in Stratford (naturally) and the Two Castles 10km Run between Warwick & Kenilworth, each outing slightly improving our speed, and as September approached, we swam, cycled and had sports massages (ouch!).

As dawn broke on 4th September 2012, we began the ‘marathon’ drive to Bordeaux to see if we really might realise our dream. At 4.30 a.m. on 7th September we rose to a cool day  - huge relief! (the previous year, the temperature on marathon day was 40°C). We breakfasted with participants from all over the world and climbed onto the bus that would take us to Paulliac for the start of the 42 km run through the vineyards. There was a carnival atmosphere in the town, spectators and participants milled around the race start that was surrounded by stalls and a variety of SciFi characters acting out scenes from literature and cinema.

At 9.30 a.m. the whistles blew and off we went, accompanied by 7998 others, many in various stages of fancy dress, others looking every inch the part of a long distance runner. My pal and I were sensibly attired. For those unfamiliar with this particular event, known as ‘le marathon le plus long du monde’ (the longest in the world), the course winds through the vineyards where one stops to imbibe a cru or two from each Maison du Vin. Food is laid out all along the route, it begins with practical refreshment such as sliced banana, orange segments and apple chunks, and soon becomes crisps and biscuits that much later on transmogrify into frites, entrecote steak and oysters...or were we hallucinating by this point???.

You see, our goal was as much to complete the distance as to receive our goodies at the finishing line that included a bottle of vintage wine beautifully presented in a wooden case, a medal (of course), a red rose (for the ladies) and a rucksack full of other wonderful odds’n’sods. At a little after 4 p.m. that day, we ran, yes we definitely ran, across the finish line and gathered up all that was on offer.

We’d made it; we had run, walked and staggered a marathon and we were elated!

And that’s my story folks; what started me running.

Libby Robotham
MSc Programmes Manager