From Jaysson Sawyer…
May 31st 2021, a sunny if somewhat windy day in the flat landscape of Boston Lincolnshire. Little did I know this would be the day of my last race for nearly two years. The Boston Mayflower half marathon, postponed due to Covid and run under restrictions with a staggered start. 78 minutes, not a bad day at the office (77 if we go with Strava!).
Fast forward, 28th June 2021, blue light ride to the hospital with a suspected stroke. Several MRI scans, CT scan, so many blood tests I am surprised I have any left, physiotherapy, trips and falls, a dislocated shoulder, five parkruns and we find ourselves at Sunday 16th April 2023. It’s race day again, my first in a long long time, It’s Boston again but this time only for the 10k. (You will never know flat running like it whilst running in Yorkshire!) I’m not sure I was nervous, I’ve been on so many start lines and run so many races, I’m not even sure I was excited. I was happy to be back running, but sad to know I would not be competing. I guess you don’t lose that runner’s competitive edge even when the body and mind know it is a thing of the past. Perfect running conditions of flat roads, mild conditions and the merest of spring breezes. I chose to wear my Marie Curie vest to minimise the pressure of running in club colours (all be it only a pressure I put on myself. I am saving that for when I feel I can do it justice and myself proud).
A nice start going out the first 400 metres at a brisk 6:30 pace, a far cry from the 5:15 I started at last time. It felt comfortable but as is always currently the case within half a mile after that the breathing became more laboured, the muscles became heavy, the pins and needles started down both legs. A strange feeling that your legs do not belong to you is quite an interesting feel when the same legs are carrying you in a race!
At 3 miles I am still running and approaching a water station, I turn to the lad next to me and advise him to catch the pair 10 yards in front and bid him farewell as I am about to walk. ‘No, I’ll stick with you, it’s my first 10k’ he replies. ‘I’m only 16 and doing this for my Duke of Edinburgh. It’s nice running with someone – I usually run with my Dad.’ So for the next mile I was surrogate Dad. At 4 miles I had to stop for a walk, he went on to catch and overtake the pair in front.
I got jogging again, knowing I would not be able to run to the finish. I had another walk not long after 5 miles. I wanted to make sure when I started again I would be able to run it to the end and not walk past the crowds. I’m not sure if it is pride, stubbornness or just another way to find motivation but I wanted to finish strongly. The finish is a long straight bit of road followed by a final bend into a school. The straight is funnelled with cones a couple of hundred metres out. With 150 metres to go the racing instinct kicked in, I shouted at another young lad to sprint to the end and to his credit he took 20 metres on me in that space, but I finished strongly and fully deserved my banana and water at the end. The medal now housed in a tin, but it will always bring back the memories of my first race back.
To top off an exciting day as I was waiting for friends to finish the half marathon I assisted a young man to the finish after his legs turned to rubber 200 yards from the end. Think back to London Marathon a few years back, I am sure most of you have seen the clip. The poor guy was not in good shape. Saying he was aiming for 1:20 but I am going to get 1:21. We were well past two hours at this point. I supported, nudged and almost carried him to the line. You could say it was the wobbly leading the wobbly as without my walking stick my walking is still somewhat suspect and I am prone to falls! Still we made it. I can tell you I certainly enjoyed my beer, wine and whisky that night!