In the quest to enjoy running again, I have been thinking a lot about how I first started. I think that getting back to my running routes will be good for me as it might allow me to tap into the reasons I fell in love with it in the first place.

As a child, I spent most of my time on my bike, a second hand BMX, often with a crushed drinks carton wedged into the brake calliper, rubbing against the grip of the tyre to make it sound like a motocross bike. I took part in the occasional cross country run in primary school and even competed in a local event. This didn’t really develop into anything at secondary school and the only running I did then was cross country in PE lessons. There were always better athletes than me in my year and the cut throat environment of the secondary school PE department meant that my previous experience stood for nothing. As far as running was concerned, that was the end of that…

…Until I went to University that is. For reasons that I can’t fully explain, in the midst of my first year at the University of Liverpool, whilst juggling a new course, getting to know new friends, learning how to look after myself and, of course, the socialising, I had the urge to go for a run. It’s a feeling I can relate better to now, than I could back then and any runner will know what feeling I mean. It can be quite overwhelming and it is something I often experience when I haven’t run for a while, but back in 1998, 5 years after I had last run any distance, it came out of the blue.

This is where the story becomes a comedy. In fact, if somebody was to write a guide on how not to start running, they would base it on what I am about to tell you.

Acting on the urge, I fished out a pair of shorts that I used for the gym (I only ever lifted weights back then – I wasn’t into cardio!) and a rather heavy, long sleeve Umbro training top. I used the only pair of trainers I owned that could not be described as fashion trainers, but they were still around 4 years old, and without any warmup or stretching I set off around the block.

I wasn’t aware of how far I was intending to run when I set off and back then, there were no Garmins or Strava, so there was no way to get immediate feedback on how far I had travelled. All I know is that it didn’t seem very far when I went that way on the bus to the city centre campus. I have, however, measured the distance since, which was futile because the point of the story is that regardless of my intentions, I never made it anyway. I made it to the first corner and started to struggle. I remember quite clearly how shocked I was to be struggling so soon into the run because I thought of myself as fit and my mindset was very much ‘you don’t walk when you have gone out running’. So, feeling like the whole world was watching me, I carried on…and struggled more…but persisted..and struggled even more, before finally stopping and walking the rest of the way. I’m not sure how much of the 1.05 mile route I actually ran, but I do think with hindsight it’s hilarious the way I went about it. I woke the next morning with the DOMs like I’ve never known!

It would be another 8 years before I tried running again and unbelievably, I’d make the same mistakes again. More of that another time!