I was supposed to be visiting a friend last weekend, but her little boy hasn't been well so we postponed things. On the spur of the moment I signed up for the Race for Life in Heaton Park and got in a few hours before the deadline.
Yesterday morning I left the house about nine am and caught the tram to Heaton Park. There were quite a few people in bright pink (SO much bright pink) and I felt very subdued in my grey running vest and blue shorts! There were stalls from sponsors including one handing out bottles of water, and rather a lot of waiting around while everyone gathered. The compere recycled his jokes as we listened to music and heard from one of the cancer research people, a 90 year old woman who was going to start the race for us, and a man with terminal cancer who came on without a shirt to show us his scar and explain how important and how difficult it was to talk about his condition. There were a lot of people wiping their eyes at this. My eyes were damp for a lot of the morning really - some of the back messages were incredibly moving. There were lots of photos, lots of personal messages, and a few people who were running because they or friends had survived. Being on the weepy part of the hormonal cycle didn't help much, but I know I would have found it very moving at any time.
When the time came to start they divided us into three groups: the runners, walkers and joggers. I was around the middle of the joggers, and I was a bit cheesed off at the number of people who stopped running/jogging as soon as they crossed the start line, blocking the way for those of us who really did want to run. I wanted a two lane system - walking pace and faster! Next time I'm going to join the runners group. I crossed the start line seven and a half minutes after the official time (it felt like a maths problem: if several thousand women pass through a gap X wide at Y abreast, how long will it take them to pass?) and wove in and out. There were a few patches where the path was too narrow to overtake and I had to walk a few steps, but I kept going and soon we were on the wider stretch and things eased a little.
It was astonishing what a difference the supporters made. I didn't have anyone cheering for me, but when you run around up a hill, knees protesting and lungs straining, somehow people applauding and cheering everyone gives an unexpected boost. I did walk for about 500 yards (4K to 4.5K). It was up a steepish slope and I was tired.
I know for regular runners 5K isn't much, but it felt like such an achievement for me, even though I didn't run the whole way. I felt absolutely amazing afterwards, although I ache a bit today I have so far raised over £135 (more with giftaid) and I am really keen to do it again next year.
I ran with four names on my back:
Lily Robinson was my Nan. She had cancer in the 1970s and Grandad was told several times that she wasn't going to survive. She battled through, and lived until 1995, although the damage done by the treatment left her very frail for most of my childhood. I am so grateful that thanks to the treatment she received I knew her for almost 17 years. I still miss her so much.
Joan Watson was the mother of my oldest friend. She died a couple of years ago after her second fight with cancer. She came from Bury (something I didn't know until I moved up here) and when I spoke to Caroline yesterday she said that Joan loved Heaton Park and used to take C and her sister when they were little. It made it feel even more fitting that I ran with her in mind.
Irene Kerrison was my paternal grandmother. She died of breast cancer when I was about four. I am deeply saddened that I have no memories of her.
Chris Rippon died of cancer last year. He was a very dear family friend and is much missed.
