Reflecting on the year that was 2022

Learning to Fly

It might sound strange to some but there were definitely a few years in my childhood where I didn’t really know I was blind. That is to say, the limitations and potential safety issues around having no sight were nowhere on my radar. During that time, I remember I ran about with friends; I knew my way to the playpark close to our house, I played hide and seek with the street kids, I climbed trees, fell over, ran into walls and ran across roads not really getting that cars wouldn’t stop for me.

Slowly, over time, and with my parents realising I had this blissful unawareness of danger, people gradually began to tame and restrict me. It was not their fault; free movement is obviously dangerous if you can’t see what is in front of you. Yet some free movement is necessary;  I didn’t register exactly what it was that I was losing because losing that childish care free attitude meant realising I was different in the eyes of society. It meant learning to walk with a cane, it meant trying to look/act sighted as far as possible. It meant missing out on sport/PE to learn braille and other practical life skills. It was years later, that I discovered yoga, and realised how much tension I held in my body. As I learned the ashtanga yoga primary series I found freedom in a degree of free movement once again.

The muscle memory began to return, the soul memory did too tugging at my heart and reminding me of a time when I had once ran all on my own with the wind in my hair.  A time that I wrote about here, a time when I ran all the way beyond the finish line at a school sports day. That was in the past though and wasn’t something I could ever get back … or was it?

Last Thursday and following our success at race for life, Isobel and I had agreed to meet up and train together. Isobel is a great coach;  she planned to do some drills with me - working on strides, slow jogs and fast sprints. I needed this to build up my confidence and balance. As part of her post injury recovery,  Isobel needed it too; so we were a perfect match.

On a quiet bank holiday morning, we headed over to the grassy football pitches a few mins from my house. The grass was firm enough to walk on, the pitches deserted owing to the holiday, the air cool and fresh. We did some slow jogs and slightly faster runs together. We worked on long strides and lunges, opening the knees and the hips. I was enjoying this, the movements similar to the yoga sequences with which I often begin my mornings. The soft, even grass was gentler on the feet and I enjoyed the feeling of boundless space and safety I felt around me.

Perhaps sensing this, Isobel casually said ‘why don’t you try some free running with me next to you? There are no obstacles here, no one else about, no trip hazards, what do you think?

That’s when I realised how wise Isobel was. I’d walked around this field with her several times by this point, I didn’t have to trust her word. I already knew the ground and she knew me. Her teaching/coaching instincts had got to the heart of something I didn’t even know I could still do, yet in that moment, it was all I wanted to do. I started to run, the wind blew over and through me. I smelled the dampness of the grass, breathed deep and ran, seeming to fly. Suddenly, having no sight was no barrier, in fact, I was seeing or feeling everything in HD; I was free flying and it felt brilliant.

After my first lap of the field, I just hugged Isobel; I didn’t have any words that came close to articulating what I felt. Reflecting on it now, it was just boundless joy, free, innocent and childlike. Yet there was nothing childish about it, because it was an adult, broken and bruised and blazing a trail. I was able to leave all my baggage at the end of the path and let go, be free, and fly over that grass. We covered a few more laps of the field as free runs even managing to work on turning technique. I improved my balance, and worked on use of my gaze point (yes, looking/facing where you are trying to go matters; even if you can’t see!) slowly my turns began to improve. 

I came home that day, letting Isobel know she had made my day, and letting everyone else know it too. From the neighbour I caught while putting out my washing to Katy who met me for coffee later that day; everyone got the story.

In the days since, I’ve reflected deeply on why that day was so special. There are the obvious elements of feeling free, capturing the enthusiasm of free running I’d not known since my childhood, but there are other more subtle qualities too. I’ve written before about trusting my guides but perhaps I don’t focus enough on trusting my own abilities. Nik has got to know me intuitively; she often calls me out on my lack of self-belief and rightly so. Others can tell you what you are capable of;  you can read and study and learn about running technique but ultimately, there must come a point when you believe you are a runner. When you trust your body and spirit to get you over the line. There is something else too, the element of surprise. By definition, surprise is just that, it is the joy of not knowing what is ahead. This can be naturally problematic if you can’t see (I don’t know there’s a tree ahead of me, I’d rather not face the surprise of running headlong into it!), but free running in this way gave me back that element of surprise and spontaneity, rather like you running out of your front door with no particular destination in mind.

While I won’t be able to free run my parkruns and races (for the safety of all involved!), I can find football fields, tracks and other safe spaces in which to keep enjoying this freedom. Not only that but as I capture more and more of it to memory, I can bring more and more of that free flying energy to my races. It can take both me and my guides to new heights and that’s when real magic can happen. So thank you Isobel for reading this blog and making something wonderful happen for me. Something that will benefit me and all of my guides, I absolutely loved learning to fly. 

My First Official Race

On the 22nd May I took part in my first 10K event; the Cancer Research Race for Life. On a bright Sunday morning, around 4000 of us gathered at Glasgow Green to walk, jog or Run 10K to raise much needed funds for cancer research. The Race for Life was one of the first races Nik and I entered. We wanted to get our distances up but we also wanted me to have some race exposure prior to GNR.

Sadly, due to Nik’s injury we were unable to run together. The parkrun family stepped in as they always do providing me with incredible guide running support. Best of all, Nik was there to support us and cheer us on from start to the finish.

Having never raced before, I didn’t really have any perceptions of what a race day would be like. I was a little nervous about being in unfamiliar surroundings, and not having run 10K plus for a few weeks I wondered if I’d be able to go the distance.

The energy of the day was electric, the music, the crowds, the warm up and build really fired up my adrenalin; being surrounded by familiar parkrunners from my home run made me feel at ease and added to the joy. The route was fairly flat so there were no major obstacles to contend with. I had to keep fairly close to my guide owing to the crowds, but in the main, I coped well with. When we could spread out and get into rhythm and move our arms, we did.

All along the routes, choirs, pipers, members of the public, volunteers, marshals and folks in cars cheered and spurred us on. Their kindness was so motivational. Honestly, the miles slipped by and I didn’t feel remotely tired. The day stayed cool for us for which I was grateful. I’m definitely more of a winter than a summer runner.. Most of our parkrun family running the Race for Life had challenges. For some of us, it was recovering from injury. For others, it was about building up distance again. For folk like me, it was about staying steady and maintaining focus and stamina. We all supported one another, keeping each other going when we began to flag.

Before I knew it, the final 200 meters were upon us and I was almost sorry it was over. We all made a great team but my 2 main guides, Sam and Isobel did an exceptional job. Sam kept our community posted with live updates on Instagram, as well as clearing the path to make way for Isabel and I who were obviously not single file.

Despite this being her first long run, Isabel stuck it with me all the way to the end, she coached, motivated and inspired, channelling Nik’s energy all the way round the course.

Nik and the rest of our support team were there to cheer us over the line; I honestly can’t describe the high at having finished. I was absolutely buzzing; it was my first race and the journey we had all been on to get there felt so significant. The people we had met along the way, the stories we had read and the support we had witnessed was humbling and inspiring in equal measure.

The medal I received yesterday is one I’ll treasure forever; it marks my first race. It also contains all of the joy, excitement and sharing of a fantastic day I’ll never forget. Thanks to everyone who made it so truly special; I hope it marks the beginning of many more for us.

My Guiding Stars

Before I even began my running journey I knew that, as a totally blind person, I’d require the assistance of guide runners. I was quite anxious about this and for many years, the idea of requiring a guide really put me off.

My anxieties were partly down to logistics…where would I find guide runners? Would I have to pay for them? Would anyone actually want to run with me? Would we both require training? How much time would that take? If I did find a guide, would they even be willing to match me in my Great North Run ambition?

On top of that, I had some emotional anxieties too. What if I found a guide but we didn’t get along? What if the guide who ran with me was just doing so because they had to, either out of financial necessity, or because parkrun told them to. As blind people, we often experience situations where we require sighted guides. For example, when navigating a train station or a busy airport. This assistance can be very hit and miss. It often doesn’t appear at all even when you book it. When it does show up, those providing it are either significantly over-familiar, wanting to know the ins and outs of your eye condition, or seem rushed, stressed; as though providing this service is the last thing they want to do. For most visually impaired people, we long to find activities we can engage in fully independently without a sense of obligation or duty to anyone.

It was with some trepidation, that I approached parkrun, and began my first run with a sighted guide. As I’ve written here before, I needn’t have worried at all. Guide running has been an incredible blessing in my life and has taught me so much. It was definitely difficult at first but the more I run and experiment with different guides and environments the more I learn. 

You might wonder why the huge 180 degree shift on my part? There are so many reasons. I’m pleased to say that my guide runners turned all of my perceptions on their heads.

The first thing that shocked me was their willingness. As Nik and I have said, parkrun is managed by volunteers, that includes those who guide run. Everyone who has shown up to guide me has done so under their own volition. This humbled me in ways I truly cannot express. People do not have to run with me; they actively choose to. That is incredible.  It instils within me a real sense of accountability too; even on the coldest, wettest days of the Scottish Winter, I knew someone had got out of bed to run with me. They showed up for me so I showed up too.

Guide runners who have run with me have all been different. I admit I did feel nervous about this to begin with but yet again, I was proven so wrong. Running with different people has taught me so much. Some of my guides have been seasoned race runners. They have coached me and given me amazing tips on how to improve my performance with many helping me secure new personal bests (PB).

Some seem nervous of guiding so we start off with quite a slow run. As we both settle into the run, I feel them relax and we both start flying over the track.  It is a beautiful thing to witness.

Some of my guides, just like me, enjoy a good chat and a laugh, and that is our focus as we run. Working with different guides has built my confidence, and has been an amazing way to get to know my wider parkrun community, forming the lasting bonds of friendship.

While I have run with a wide variety of incredible guides, Nik and I have run the most together. We jelled as soon as we met. Having run a few half marathons before, she immediately volunteered to be my guide. She messaging me the very same day to sort out training runs. We knew we were attempting something new and ambitious, and we also knew we’d have to take our guide work to another level.

We are blessed at our home parkrun with an almost uniform track, and as everyone knows us, we get a clear run almost every week, with little to no obstacles.

The Great North Run would not function like that so we signed up for some local races, mostly 10K events, to get me accustomed to the busy nature of a race day. We also began practising on other routes in and around the local park to get me used to roads, traffic, and different types of terrain.

I have definitely found this difficult.  My run often slows as I try to adjust my perception to different sounds, crowds etc. My feet seem to land heavier on new surfaces as I try to explore them, subconsciously working to avoid trip hazards and falls. Working this way has meant Nik and I have had to build up a great deal of trust. I must trust her to tell me what I need to know about the environment to avoid injury. Equally, Nik has to trust me to let her know of anything I’m struggling with, or any information I might need more or less of on unfamiliar terrain. This is a balance we don’t always get right but only through running and practise are we able to fine tune it to work for each of us.

Working in such an intensive way develops a very special bond by default; it has to. There are things Nik knows of me that no one else does. Working so closely means she has seen me at my best, my worst; and my most vulnerable. While some might find that scary, I’ve found it deeply empowering and liberating. When I run, I’m running with a true friend, who knows my strengths, weaknesses, fears and emotional hang-ups. When I’m flagging, Nik knows me well enough to know if I’m genuinely fatigued, or just having a moment of mental doubt. Having this knowledge means she’s been able to coach me from 5 to 10K and beyond, distances I never thought I’d achieve when I began running in October.

When Nik went down with an ankle injury a few weeks ago; I was deeply worried for her; and for our running ambitions; but as ever, she was several steps ahead of me.

Before she even told me of her accident, she had contacted the parkrun family, securing guides to help me with our pre-booked races, and parkrun events. I know this is the last thing I’d have thought of if I had injured myself, and her commitment and passion for our aspirations genuinely overwhelmed me.

On the 22nd May 2022, I took part in my first official 10K race; the ‘Race for life’ in Glasgow, raising much-needed funds for cancer research.

Though Nik couldn’t run with me, she was there to cheer me on. She had facilitated a truly amazing group of supporters and guides, who got me round the course effortlessly, with lots of laughs and incredible mutual support.

I cannot imagine my life without these guides, without the parkrun family and all that they bring to me. Running with guides has boosted my confidence in ways I never thought possible. I’ve made incredible friends and learned so much from each of them. Working with guides has also made me more assertive about asking for help when I need it, and not feeling awkward or guilty about it. I have also learned the reality that in truth, we are all interdependent, and all have talents we can use to guide, care for, and empower one another, just by being who we are.

Saying that, I know my experiences are sadly unique in many ways. I have many visually impaired friends and colleagues who aspire to become runners but often have to miss local parkrun events as there are no volunteers available to run with them. What we have at our Strathclyde run is truly incredible, and I’m so grateful to the organisers, the volunteers, and in particular, those amazing, brave and thoughtful individuals who take time out to run with me and others like me. If you are reading this and have never considered guide running, please do. You don’t need any special training or qualifications. All you need is an open heart, and a willingness to try something new. Trust me, your impact is nothing short of life changing; at least for me, and I’m sure many like me. Thank you for opening my mind to something incredible. Each and everyone of you who have run with me truly are my guiding stars.

Mini goals and disaster

So the ultimate goal is to run the GNR in September but with official events recommencing comes the promise of some medal bling and free t-shirts (all included in the entry fee)! Additionally, the thought of progressing from 5K (3.1 miles) to 21.1K (13.1 miles) can feel quite daunting. We were regularly running more than 5K so entering an official 10K event seemed like a good idea. It would give us a target date for reaching that distance so we could comfortably run and experience the buzz of such events.  I have never run the GNR before; I have heard that the atmosphere is quite incredible. I have run in other official events and can honestly say there is nothing quite like the buzz of the crowds, the entertainment and the encouragement from other participants. 

We entered the Cancer Research Race for Life 10K and the Acorn Trails Woman’s 10K; training was well under way. We had even managed to comfortably run further than 10K a few times so were quietly confident that both these events were manageable. Sadly, the Acorn Trails event was cancelled but the Race for Life was definitely going ahead. 

Then disaster struck; with 2 weeks to go I injured my ankle playing badminton with my wife, Laura. We had only just started playing again and, in pre pandemic form,  Laura was hitting winning and quite spectacular shots on a regular basis. I am convinced she is a former badminton champion or she has a practice court at work. I’m not usually competitive but this day I was a bit tired of losing every point so I turned on competitive mode. In so doing, I damaged tendons in my ankle and was told no running, sport or long shopping trips (genuine NHS advice) for 4 -6 weeks. Yes I am being a big bit dramatic by calling it a disaster; I was so excited to be running an official event with Ruth that it felt like a bit of a disaster to me. I knew that Ruth would be more concerned about my injury than anything else. I also knew, without a shadow of doubt, that one of the parkrun pals would run with Ruth. 

I put out the call to arms and within seconds a plan was formed. I phoned Ruth to let her know what had happened. She was, as expected, more worried about me but she was also delighted that others had offered to guide with her. 

Thankfully, I was able to go and support her and the parkrun pals running the Race for Life. Katie, Gray and I waved Ruth, Isobel, Sam, Karen, Ann M, Mary Anne and Louise off at the start line and saw them cross the finish line. Isobel was guiding with Ruth and Sam on standby just in case. Sam kept us up to date throughout the run with some videos and images of the run. It is Ruth’s story to tell so all I will say is she looked like she was enjoying every bit of it. We were all a bit overcome with emotion watching our friends cross the finish line; first event and longest distance post covid for many of them and Ruth’s first official event completed with ease. I could not be prouder of her and hope she does not under estimate the enormity of her achievement. It was only a few weeks ago she declared that she ‘was not really a runner!’; this being said as she was half way through a 7 mile run. 

Ruth, it is over to you for your story of your first official event.