Yup, we’ve all been there: smacking into a metaphorical brick wall at 100mph and being knocked out by the sheer force of it. We might see it coming or it might be a total surprise, but it’s there and it’s a battle to get past the damn thing, not least because it’s no regular wall. This wall talks: “remember that worry you had? Yeah, that’s me. I’m the wall of worry here, and I don’t plan on making this easy for you.”
Git.
I’ve hit it twice in close succession recently, and it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with being beaten up by a wall of my own making – I’m still not quite over it yet, but I’m most of the way there.
The first was on my longest run to date: I’m doing the Black Country Half Marathon, my first half marathon ever (!), and I was thrown into doubt over whether I could do it. Needless to say, my doubt fuelled an angry run of 11.5 miles, and I have never felt a physical sludge like it. At mile 11, I knew I was done: I’ve been tired before, but never to the point where my body has screamed at me to stop before making me do so after pushing that extra half-mile! I was genuinely awed at how my body reacted; my mind wanted to get to 12 but my body literally stood in its way, which I’ve never had before.
Mind you, I could deal with this wall a little bit: it was a physical wall of my own making whilst proving a point, and while I’d have given my soul for a new set of calves at the time, it was a physical reminder that I bloody well did it.
The second wall though, he was a real nightmare because he was a mental wall. He was a companion wall to this one: after seeing my other half through his first marathon, I felt inspired and decided it would be epic to do a marathon before 30 – i.e. before the end of 2019! I’d Googled the flat ones (this was my version of making a mad idea sensible…) and settled on York, I’d started thinking up training plans and tapping up the other half for marathon wisdom (he’s been super supportive, even when he realised he might end up doing another one whilst still being told off by his legs for making him do the first one!)…
And twice I’ve been told I probably shouldn’t do it.
And when I hit that wall in the 11.5 miler, my pride in my longest run was vastly overshadowed by my fear that I can’t do it. I couldn’t get that horrible word ‘can’t’ out of my head. It still hasn’t gone: I did a tough old 10k race last weekend and tortured myself because a hip twinge made me walk for 30 seconds, and the first thing I did when crossing the line was cry (a lovely old man offered me a seat, the running community is one of the loveliest going), stamp my feet and say aloud “I can’t do it”.
It’s a wall Trump would be proud of because it’s taking me a long time to get past it, but I know I’m getting there. I fully believe our minds can be our best friend and our worst enemy when it comes to challenges, and right now mine isn’t fully on board with playing nicely. I’m giving it a good talking to and persisting with my training programme, but it has taken a lot of mental anguish and persistence to get over these walls.
The wall as a concept, though, is never going away for any of us, but we runners are a tough breed and we know we can break down barriers. Sometimes it might take a while, but we’re bigger and stronger than any wall and, hell, if we want to achieve something we’ll go out and blummin’ well do it!