5k a Day, What Have I Done?!
"My doctor told me that jogging could add years to my life. I think he was right. I feel ten years older already." - Milton Berle
In my Book Who’s Wally? Adoption, Brian, and Me, I wrote a chapter about a charity challenge I completed 10 years ago when I was living in Nottingham, 5k a Day for a year. It has been going around my head for years after and I’m quite proud of the achievement to be perfectly honest, if anyone ever starts to talk about running it doesn’t take me long to say ‘Well, actually, I ran every day for a year’ what a self-righteous little prick I am. Haha!
When I started to write Who’s Wally? I began writing for the blog and it became the book, and I have always wanted to try and record that crazy year of stupid running, so, I thought it might be a good idea to puke it all up onto another blog … So, here goes nothing, again!
In 2014 I ran every day for a year, yes 365 days, but before we get into that, it is probably worth giving you a little bit of an insight into why I think my challenge happened at all.
For approximately ten years my side hustle was Professional Photographer, it was a business born out of a hobby and I was good at it. I got to the point where I could see a photograph, where to stand, how to light it, and even how to set up the camera to get the shot I imagined. I even knew if it would work in black and white before taking it. I played around like this with photography for a while until the day came when I was asked to photograph a wedding for a work colleague, that one shoot became two, then three, then hundreds! In the last couple of years, the business had grown and I was a busy fool, with lots to do for little gain. Simultaneously, I had weddings, corporate, studio, and product photography. There was also a photography training school that I had developed, as well as a camera club.
On top of that, I had built a photo booth for events that I was driving around the country. Which sounds like a lot for one person to manage right?
If you couple that with also working a full-time engineering role, and all the photo business admin, then it gets even more crazy. I look back now and wonder how the hell I did it. Eventually, I begrudged the time it consumed and I closed the business in 2015.
I've photographed brides and grooms, supermarket openings, dog food, skydivers, celebrities, Royalty, and even facial scars for insurance/court purposes. My favourite part however, and the most rewarding (adoptees need to have those rewards), was donating my time as a photographer to a local hospice, shooting fundraisers. They appreciated my efforts and I loved to do it. I guess it satisfied my need to please and be accepted.
It wasn't enough. Adopted people struggle. Lots of us have problems attaching to loved ones and friends and this all comes from our relinquishment by our birth families, we tend to reach adulthood with a subconscious mistrust of the world and a fear of abandonment. One of our side quests that stems from this fear is people-pleasing. Adoptees go all out to feel liked, appreciated, and loved, so will go above and beyond to please. Donating my time to the charity as a photographer felt good but too easy, I needed to do more to feel like I was contributing, appreciated, or part of something.
I wasn’t much of a sports fan growing up and at seven-years-old I was forced to play football for my Cub Scout pack.
It was early 1981 and a freezing cold, grey, and drizzly day with my Mum and Dad on the touchline spurring me on. I was in right-wing defense and this suited me completely as our opponents were poor and our players spent much of the first half as far away from our goal as it was possible to get.
I loafed at the back watching the ball intensely from a distance, making sure I had time to swerve out the way of any oncoming play. I felt extremely out of place, completely useless, and totally on the outside looking in. It was miserable, and I hated it. Not surprisingly, I didn't play the second half. Good!
To find myself becoming a runner towards the end of 2010 was quite odd. Running and I bumped heads after I saw Suzy (Eddie) Izzard run her mammoth 43 marathons in 51 days for Sport Relief. Sport Relief is part of the Comic Relief charity, their vision is to drive positive change through the power of entertainment and sport, supporting incredible projects and organisations that are making a difference for people across the UK and around the world, according to the website. As someone convinced that they were not designed for running, seeing what Suzy had achieved and hearing her say we were all designed to run was very inspiring. That year saw me run the Robin Hood half marathon in Nottingham and a 10k race, not bad for someone who couldn't run a bath without gasping for breath. I felt like Linford Christie, the athlete from the '80s, only not black, with a much smaller penis (I estimate, I mean, they didn't call him The Lunchbox for nothing). Oh, and I was shit at running, but all that aside, Linford Christie, yep, 100%.
Later that year I was to have a fall whilst out running, on an already dodgy ankle (I actually fell off the floor once) and it forced me to stop, so, by the end of 2012 the podgy stuff around my bones that I'd worked so hard to reduce was back and I was the heaviest I've ever been. Back then I only knew five fat people, and I was 4 of them. I’d reached an impressive 14.5 stone from a combination of working late, eating badly, and no exercise, I was feeling pretty ill. What did I expect?
By the way, the dodgy ankle I just mentioned was the result of falling down some stairs in a pub one night whilst navigating my way to the toilet, I fell a full flight, landing in a heap at the feet of a bouncer/doorman, my foot was twisted out of its socket and the only way back up those fucking stupid stairs was to push it back into place. As luck would have it I'd taken on a considerable amount of liquid painkillers in the form of beer, so the pain didn't hit me till the morning after. Man that first morning when I swung my legs off the bed and down to the floor was one the most painful things I’ve ever done, and I’ve watched George Gallaway do his best to become a cat for Rula Lenska on Big Brother, it was much worse than that! I did eventually opt for some physio, one of the therapies he performed on me was to place pads around my ankle and give it electric shocks. I was told by the therapist (or torturer as I preferred to call him) to keep increasing the voltage as I became accustomed to the treatment, then he left the room. By the time he returned I had turned the dial up to its maximum and every pulse made me jump like hell. My jaw was clenched hard and my knuckles were white as I gripped the sides of the couch. I couldn't help it, I saw it as a challenge.
Anyway, the weight thing, I decided enough was enough and I started to cut out bread, cheese, oats, caffeine, crisps, and even chocolate, all the things I loved. I think I used to eat bread and cheese every day without fail. It was hard but I knew I needed to do something drastic to change the ever-expanding me. I replaced them with water and real fruit and vegetables. God, it was so boring.
Within a couple of months I was feeling better and surprisingly, a little lighter. So I dusted off the old running shoes and went out again. Short, gentle runs to start me off, with plenty of walking thrown in, while all the time sending images of steel bars down to my previously damaged ankle just to be on the safe side. After a while, those metal bar signals were working and were cramping my knee! OK time to relax about the joints.
It was surprisingly fun getting my fitness back, and I was amazed at how quickly I changed shape. My decrease in size caused a bit of a stir, people asked if I had anything terminal and why I seemed to have kept all my hair. Nice! My favourite one though was being called Chester Copperpot. The Goonies discovered Chester, well his bones at least! And remember the skeleton from the Memorex tape adverts on TV in the 1980s? I got that too. "Re-record not fade away"
I took no interest in this incredible 'ribbing' no pun intended, as by then I had never felt better. I was even having to buy smaller clothes. I hadn’t been 12 stone since I was twenty-five and I was nearly at that weight by then.
With all this good news and improvement I was bound to hit some kind of wall, and I did. Improvements decreased and I was running out of enthusiasm. I continued the running through 2013 regardless of the massive lack of motivation. I’ve no idea how I kept going. As motivation is a massive part of any exercise, I needed something to help me to continue. What about something for a charity, a marathon? too far, I don't do huge distances. OK, a half marathon? yeah, done that, the trouble with that is that so many people run half marathons, and do it for charity. I'm not belittling these achievements, it's bloody hard work, but I wanted something that felt like a proper challenge, but suited the sort of running I was doing, which was around 5 km. Also, something that inspired people to give up some cash. An idea formed.
One night, I sent an email to the hospice …
Image: © Andy Wallis
