In our introduction, I said that my running journey began on my sofa. That is partly true, but its not the whole story. I first ran when I was 9 years old, at a school sports day. I’d been practising every lunchtime, running on a grassy patch behind our school with the guidance of a friend who was 1 year older; and with a little more eyesight than I had.
Despite attending a school for the blind during my early childhood, there were definitely a number of years during which I did not register the fact I had no sight, or what that would mean for me, and this manifest strongly when I ran. I eventually gave up the sighted guide; I didn’t need it. I knew the grassy patch like the back of my hand, It was flanked by hedges and trees and if I fell; I had a soft landing on the grass. I loved the free running, the air rushing over me and through my flowing hair. When I ran I thought of nothing, was present in the moment and lost in the liberated movement.
Fast-forward to the sports day, I ran and ran. I knew I could win this race, I ran hard and heard parents and kids cheering me. Suddenly the cheers sounded far away and I wondered if I’d done something wrong? But I kept running, I ran and ran, till the grass ran out and I was on the hard ground of the carpark. I’d never come this far before and was considering whether to keep going or retrace my steps, when I was grabbed by a teacher. “Why did you do that? You ran too far, you are disqualified”.
Can you disqualify a 9-year-old? Moreover, does running too far, too fast, over the finish line count as disqualification? Of course, these are all things I can rationalise as an older, not necessarily wiser adult, but at the time, I felt crushed. In my mind, I’d failed at running. I’d failed due to my blindness and didn’t run again.
Over the years, I sometimes remembered that rush and how good it felt, and I even e-mailed British Blind Sport a few times in my 20s, to find out about running guides but they never responded; I considered it not to be in my fate. In the 80s and 90s, disability sport was not the cool, fashionable activity it is now, becoming an athlete or simply running for pleasure were not encouraged, hence my disqualification.
Fast-forward to 2020 and the Covid pandemic; my life as a blind person was turned upside down. Forget running, I couldn’t even walk! Staff refused to serve me in shops due to my inability to maintain social distance and requiring assistance. I was working from home, dependent on friends and family for basic necessities. I felt trapped, insecure and restricted. This is why my sofa moment while watching the Great North Run stood out so much. This time, I was going to move, run, and reclaim something I’d started, but not finished, at aged 9.
I began asking around for running guides but was getting nowhere until a friend of mine told me about parkrun and how they could offer a volunteer guide. parkrun had a weekly event just minutes from my home, this sounded perfect. I sent an e-mail to Strathclyde parkrun curious about whether I would receive a reply. When I first received an e-mail from run director, Moira, I thought she had misunderstood. She was so open, friendly and inclusive. She told me just to come along, whenever I wanted, and I would be provided with a guide. There was no fee, no risk assessments, no awkward questions, no drama- did she understand that I could not see? The only stipulation given was that I register with parkrun and bring my barcode. I asked my husband to drop me off for my first event and perhaps wait around for me. I fully expected them to register I was new to running and totally blind, before promptly sending me home. I couldn’t have been more wrong!
I was welcomed by Moira and countless others. My guide volunteer that week, Peter, is a beautiful soul who welcomed me and quickly sent my husband away saying he’d drop me home afterwards. Though Peter was an extremely accomplished runner, he was patient, supportive and encouraging of my efforts. Despite a slight wardrobe malfunction (always wear drawstring leggings!), I had an absolutely amazing time.
Peter became a friend, as did so many at parkrun over the weeks to come. Running slipped into coffee and laughs with so many after my runs. When I’d talk about parkrun to friends and family I’d become emotional. Never had I been part of such an inclusive community, where sight loss was no barrier, where I just had to be me and have fun. Everyone encouraged me, from the elite super-fast runners to the complete beginners, and many of them offered to run with me in the great North Run if I was still serious about participating.
Nicola (aka Nik ) was one of a group of volunteers who offered to guide run with me. She had never done it before so we agreed she would run along-side me and my guide that week to see what was involved. As fate would have it, a fellow runner became unwell and my guide had to stop and assist. Nik took over at a moment’s notice not that it showed. We ran like we’d been doing it forever and we just clicked! There was so much to say, share and laugh about and so little time. Like so many others, Nik offered to guide with me at the Great North Run. I felt we’d be a perfect match but I didn’t want to push her into it. I was concerned that she was just being kind. One Saturday afternoon after parkrun, she sent me a message to see when I’d like to start doing training runs for the Great North. That’s when I knew she meant business and that was where our partnership was born.
In coming posts, I’ll talk about how we began working together, the practicalities of guiding and being guided, and the amazing fun we have doing the things we love.
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