by Jules Wake
At the top of this section there was a folly – a Palladian summer house – where the course turned a sharp right again up another flaming hill. I managed a few steps and then lapsed into a walk but I wasn’t alone, not by a long way.
‘Killer, isn’t it?’ remarked a man as I drew alongside him. He was panting just as heavily as I was and he wore a ‘50’ T-shirt.
‘But you’ve done loads,’ I wheezed, pointing to his top.
‘Never gets any easier. I’m better on the down. Once you get up to the top of this it’s flatter.’
‘Promise?’ I hauled in another breath, wondering why the heck I was doing this.
He just huffed in response and began to jog again with a wave of his hand.
At least if we got a run set up at Victoria Park it would be a hell of a lot easier, although there was one steep hill at the far east side. We’d be avoiding that section of the park if I had anything to do with it.
Towards the crest of the hill, the incline softened and I began to run again, pleased to see the path stretching away through the leafy green trees, flat and wide. Phew, I’d made it to the top. Now it was much easier and I could take in my surroundings. Through the trees, I could see last autumn’s leaf cover, and the fallen branches from winter storms, with dark green velvety moss growing on the trunks. Up here we were in the lee of the wind and it was much more sheltered.
Then there was a break in the trees affording the most wonderful view of the park spread below with the town beyond and even further in the distance a wide flat plain.
A flash of euphoria ripped through the heavy breathing and aching limbs. I felt glad to be alive.
I can do this.
With a burst of energy, I upped my pace, feeling my legs respond and realising my breathing was easier. I was actually enjoying this. Up ahead, I saw a lone figure sprinting towards to me. What was he doing? And then further behind him was another man.
Then I realised they were the front runners… on their way back. Sprinting? I could barely muster a jog and these guys were going for it. The turning point must be quite close.
It wasn’t.
The number of runners coming past started to increase. These were the serious runners, with serious faces and a serious pace. But what struck me was the camaraderie, the cheers of, ‘Go John’, ‘Well done Marie, you can do it’ that I heard. There were lots of travelling high fives, encouraging taut grins, and one man even made a love heart with his hands and blew kisses as he passed a woman ahead of me. Unaccountably cheered by this, I laboured up the final mountain climb, determinedly forcing one foot in front of the other at a pace that Hilda could probably outwalk. Just keep swimming, I told myself, hearing Dory’s voice from the Pixar movies in my head. Just keep swimming.
And there it was, the mythical nirvana, the turn. It was manned by a particularly jolly marshal who, despite it being summer, wore a big woolly hat and several layers. He gave me and another woman on my heels a two-handed thumbs up. ‘Nearly there, ladies. You’ve got this. Downhill all the way from here.’
‘Thanks, marshal,’ panted the other woman, giving him a limp-wristed wave. All I could muster was a bit of a nod. Even so, now I knew exactly what was in store for the rest of the run, I was able to relax a little. I wasn’t running into the unknown anymore. There was something very reassuring about knowing that it was downhill all the way. My legs felt less heavy and at last I seemed to have got to the point where my breathing was even; although it was still rasping out with harsh exhalations, I didn’t have to suck in desperate burning lungfuls of air.
The runners had thinned out and were now strung out unevenly along the path; I was completely on my own, following a woman a little way ahead and in front of her a small group of about five. All I could hear was the pad-pad of my feet, crunching into the gravelly path and the coo-coo of a couple of wood pigeons hidden in the trees somewhere close by.
My body felt looser; the earlier tension in my shoulders that had pinched hard at the tight muscles had dissipated. There was something about being out in the fresh air, the open countryside around you, with your heart pumping and your muscles, tendons, and bones working in perfect harmony, all doing what they were designed to do. I felt alive and buzzy with the awareness of my body working away. I felt at peace with myself.
Running free felt so much better than being on a treadmill. It didn’t matter if I came last; no one was going to say that I’d failed. No one was going to judge me – not even me. The thought was immensely liberating.
I always put so much pressure on myself to be everything to everyone. Self-sufficiency had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Being capable, being the best meant people had left me to get on with it. I’d isolated myself. I never asked for help. It had to be forced upon me, like Hilda phoning Ash to help with the furniture. I’d never have admitted I couldn’t do it on my own.
It was the same at work. I’d backed myself into a corner. No one ever offered aid because they assumed I wouldn’t accept it or even that I didn’t need it. I never said no to projects or tasks because I didn’t want it to seem as if I couldn’t hack the challenge. When I’d first started, there’d been the thrill of helping small companies with business problems, dealing with real people and making a difference to their lives. Because I was good, I kept being given the bigger and bigger jobs, the bigger, faceless companies where the employees would have no idea of my impact on them. I’d become so focused on that steady treadmill, never lifting my head to take a good look around, that I’d lost sight of what I really liked about my work. For the first time, it occurred to me that I could get off the treadmill and run free.
Thinking about that spurred me on and, somehow, I’d caught up with the woman ahead of me and now tried to keep pace with her. She stretched out a little in response, pushing the pace, but I kept up with her stride for stride. I could see she was older than me and was panting just as hard as I was.
‘You okay?’ she asked with a face which I knew was as red and shiny as mine.
‘Yes… first… time,’ I puffed.
‘It gets easier. I… started… a year ago,’ she said between breaths. ‘Complete convert now. Just ran in the gym. Something about all this…’ She waved a hand to the surrounding woodland. ‘We’re all mad.’
I nodded, trying to conserve some energy as we ran along the flat path along the top of the ridge, going back past the opening in the trees where the stunning view unfolded. The early morning mist had cleared and now the scene showed just how high we’d climbed. The view from up here was amazing and it filled me with a quiet sense of joy, one I hadn’t felt for a long time. I’d been too focused on that damned treadmill.
‘Makes me feel glad to be alive when I see that,’ she said. ‘Every time.’
I knew what she meant
The path sloped upwards with a very small incline and I began to slow, the temptation to walk building.
‘Come on,’ urged the woman. ‘You can do it. The worst is over.’
‘Promise?’ I panted and she laughed – or a close approximation to it.
We ran side by side, our harsh breaths punctuating the morning air and whenever I started to slow, she slowed with me, keeping me going. Then, mercifully, we crested the hill and hit the steep descent. It was heaven, running free down there, letting my legs carry me, my arms flapping loosely by my sides.
‘Told you it would get easier.’
‘Thank God,’ I replied. We zigzagged down the hill, coming back to the obelisk and a crossroad of four paths. The same cheery marshal now had Elvis’s ‘Jailhouse Rock’ pumping out. Like the men at the airports who directed planes into their spots, he gave us a two-handed wave towards the path on the right.
Not far now, I told myself. ‘Don’t let me hold you back,’ I wheezed to my kind companion.
‘It’s fine. I’m not aiming for a PB or anything. I’m always grateful just to get around.’
I let the words sink in for a minute.
‘Ca
n I… ask… why you… do it?’
‘Sure,’ she gave me a quizzical look and I hastily reassured her.
‘I’m here… some friends and I… want to set up a parkrun’—my chest was heaving with the effort. Running, talking, and breathing at the same time was hard work—‘in our local area. Fact-finding mission.’
‘Ah. That’s brilliant. Good luck. It’s transformed my life.’ She waggled one of her hands in front of her, sporting a tasteful solitaire engagement ring. ‘I met my partner here.’
‘Really?’ Hilda would love that.
‘Yes. I’d been divorced for nine years. Never thought I’d meet anyone again.’ She laughed wheezily. ‘Thought I was destined to be a crazy cat-lady.’ We ran a few strides before she picked up the story again. ‘My neighbour begged me to come and help marshal one weekend because they were short of volunteers. I came up… saw that there were plenty of women just like me here. Not stick-thin runnery types.’ She flashed me a grin. ‘So I decided to have a go. Never run in my life. Nearly killed me the first couple of times.’ With a laugh she swerved to avoid a branch on the path, ‘But… it got me out of the house. I was last the first couple of weeks.’
I pulled a sympathetic face.
She waved a hand. ‘Someone has to be. Everyone was so friendly. Nice about it. Even though I was a complete duffer.’ She ran a few more paces, clearly trying to conserve her oxygen levels. ‘I came back the next week. Then the next.’ There was another pause before, with a proud beam, she added, ‘I’ve done seventy now.’
‘That’s… amazing.’ I gasped between breaths.
‘Over the weeks I got chatting to a couple of people. A woman invited me to go to the coffee place afterwards. I met Phil. Chatted to him every week for months.’ Her smile was rueful. ‘He’s a slow burner. Eventually he invited me out for dinner. The rest is history.’
‘Wow,’ I huffed, ‘that’s a lovely story.’
‘’Tis for me,’ she grinned.
I realised that as she’d been talking we’d unconsciously began to run faster and we were fairly pelting down the hill.
At the bottom, we burst out of the trees head-on into the wind.
‘Not far now.’
The finish line was just over the next hill and with that in mind, I forced myself to dig deep and run as hard as I could up the short, steep slope following the other woman. A competitive gene had kicked in and I was determined to keep going.
Up over the hill we went and then it was there, a hundred metres ahead.
‘Come on!’ yelled my companion, plunging down the hill like a kamikaze pilot. ‘Sprint finish.’
I went flying after her, trying as hard as I could to catch her. The finish line loomed closer. I pushed my body harder, my lungs bursting. Then just before the finish, the woman slowed and turned. ‘We go over together.’
And, in an extraordinarily generous gesture, we crossed the line at exactly the same time.
And that was the moment I fell in love with the parkrun. The moment when I decided that we would find the three thousand pounds. We would set something up that would encourage people like this lady to come out and take part, something that would give people like the lovely guy with the boom box a job to do every Saturday. We would set something up that would make Ash and me proud of what we’d achieved. We were going to set up the Churchstone parkrun.
Chapter Eighteen
Ash stared at me, his eyes narrowing as he unlocked the car doors. The beep sounded loud in the quiet street.
‘What?’ I asked, as I slid heavily into the bucket seat after he loaded our bags into the space under the bonnet. My stomach was full after a rather yummy breakfast dished up by Darren – avocado and poached eggs on sourdough toast along with slices of crispy bacon. After the parkrun, I felt I’d earned every single delicious mouthful.
‘You’re back.’
‘Back?’ I frowned as I tugged at the seat belt.
His face was hidden from me as he leaned over the steering wheel but then he tossed back his hair and a shot me an almost accusing glare. ‘You’re all sparkly eyed again.’
‘Am I supposed to apologise for that?’ I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
‘That first time I met you, even though you were being a complete ballbreaker—’
‘I was not. You were being an arse. You backed…’ I realised how ridiculous this was and shut up. He raised that eyebrow and I folded my arms. And then I burst out laughing. ‘You make me so mad sometimes, Ash.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Stop flirting; it doesn’t suit you.’ Despite my words, I couldn’t help my mouth twitching. ‘You were saying…?’
‘It’s like the life-force is back. When I first met you… that’s what I noticed. Your eyes sort of sparkled all the time you talked. You were so full of energy.’
I rolled my eyes but actually, I knew what he meant. This morning had been like walking through a wall and coming out into brilliant sunshine. It was only now that I felt normal that I realised how long I’d been functioning in fog.
‘Endorphins,’ I said, stretching my arms out in front of me, wriggling my fingers. Every bit of me felt alive and buzzing with awareness. ‘Did you know that the Tring parkrun is the seventeenth hardest in the country?’
‘No. Bloody hell. It was tough though.’
‘Well, it was your idea.’
‘Should have gone to Harrogate.’
‘Yeah but we wouldn’t have learned as much. Andy, the guy who set up this run, was really helpful and so was today’s run director, Katie.’ We’d spent a little while in The Akeman, the local bar-restaurant where many of the runners congregated after the run. We’d picked a few people’s brains and met some inspiring people, including Luciana, a complete non-runner who’d lost an astonishing twelve stone, and Elaine who ran with her ten and twelve-year-old daughters every Saturday, and the volunteers who rocked up week in and week out to share the wonderful sense of community. It was truly inspiring. ‘I’m so glad we came.’ I buzzed with a sense of achievement and also excitement.
‘So you really want to go for it?’
‘Absolutely.’ I turned to him. ‘You?’
‘I guess. It was… can I say fun? Knackering… but there was a real sense of community there.’
‘Everyone was so friendly. And so supportive. I felt like…’ I hesitated, wondering if it sounded a bit stupid. ‘I felt like I was part of something. Like I belonged… even though I’m not a proper runner.’
‘Define “proper runner”.’
‘Those people that came haring past me when I was still panting my way up the hill like a physically challenged hippo.’
Ash laughed, loud and strong, and it made me realise I hadn’t heard him laugh properly since our date. ‘If it makes you feel better, a couple of them are former Olympians.’
‘That makes me feel almost super human.’ I sat up straight in the car with a surge of pride. ‘I did the same course as an Olympian.’
‘And there were plenty of people who didn’t look anything like “proper runners”. I was surprised by how many kids were there.’
I sighed a happy sigh. ‘It was amazing, and we’re going to make it happen at home.’
‘Oh God, Hilda’s created a monster.’
I rubbed my hands together. ‘Too right. In fact, I’m going to put together a list of all the things we need to do. Nothing’s going to stop us now.’
‘When you look like that, I believe you.’ He nodded his head and I knew he was referring to my eyes again. A foolish tingle of happiness danced in my chest. Very foolish. Falling for Ash a second time would be a huge mistake.
‘Mind if I make a call?’ I asked as we drove further north. I could almost feel Ash’s sense of gloom returning. It was as if our trip had been a brief holiday. We’d talked initially about the parkrun but the minute we hit the M1, the atmosphere in the car felt as if the barometer pressure had dropped. Even his posture had changed as he sl
umped into his seat.
‘No, go ahead.’
I listened to the overseas dial tone before Alice’s cheery voice invited me to leave a message.
‘Hi Alice, it’s Claire. Just calling to find out if you’ve got a flight tomorrow and what time you want me to pick you up. The girls are really excited about seeing you. Can you give me a call or text me?’
I hung up.
‘Still no word?’
‘Par for the course for Alice. She’s not big on responsibility.’ Even so, it was stretching things.
‘And you are.’ It was an observation rather than a question.
I shrugged. ‘One of us had to be. If we’d both been like her, my parents would have had nervous breakdowns. As it was, my mother came close.’
‘Family dynamics – always fun. I think I must be the Alice of our family. The loser.’
‘Bollocks, Ash. That’s rubbish and you know it.’
His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.
‘Until recently, you were flying. You’ve hit a bump in the road. It’s derailed you, that’s all. We both know that. I think we agree there’s no point in platitudes. And it’s shit. Not working, not having a purpose. I get it.’
He shot me a reluctant smile, as if grateful for my honesty.
‘And I know it’s all right for me because I have a job to go back to but you will get another job eventually.’
‘You think? I’ve had so many doors shut in my face. What do I have to do?’
‘I was thinking…’
Ash shot me a glare that basically said he didn’t want to hear it. It was a challenge in itself.