I have quite a vivid memory from my childhood of standing on a roadside near Roundhay Park in Leeds watching my dad come in to finish the Leeds marathon. I don’t know what the year is and I guess to be brutally honest I don’t even know if it’s an actual memory or one that I recall because of a photo somewhere, but for me it’s a memory none the less.
Fast forward probably 30 years – minimum….
This weekend just gone saw me running my first organised race for a couple of years, and only my second ever. It was the Pennine 10k held in Burnley and I completed in a time of 1 hour 3 minutes and 31 seconds.
I had a really good time, the route was good, I felt pretty good and I was ok with my time, although I think I could’ve got a bit of a faster one if it wasn’t for the congestion at a couple of parts of the route, but hey, I’m hardly Mo Farah!
How these two stories really start to connect for me though is how, as I came up the home straight, looking to sprint home only to realise it was an uphill finish, there at the side of the road, alongside some family and best friends(part of what I lovingly refer to as The Circle), watching me coming in, were my gorgeous wife and my awesome son. Instantly the tightness I felt at the end of the race disappeared and I could’ve been running on air for all it was worth. A really great moment for me that reminded me of that memory, years ago, watching my dad coming in.
After I’d crossed the line and picked up my goody bag and tshirt, hugged my brother, who was waiting for me having finished the race a good 10-15 minutes earlier, I went and found them, still at the side of the road, albeit NJ was wandering round, indifferent to whether or not I was coming to find him! We had a lovely cuddle and I made a commitment to our little pride that I’ve made many times already in my head since he was born. A commitment to make as many memories as possible for us. One day I want him to have moments like I just did.