After a rather unsporting 2012, I got back on the running in 2013. I made two New Year’s resolutions: one not to travel by aeroplane (after 20-something flights the year before, I felt the o-zone would thank me for taking a break) and one to run four races in the four countries of the United Kingdom, all in aid of Mind– the mental health charity.
My wonderful dad became increasing unwell in 2012 with severe depression, leading to multiple admissions into hospital and some terrifying choices about therapies that might help him to get better and might make him a lot worse. I watched my dad getting worse for a long time before he got better and felt useless without a cure. Running lots of miles helped to channel my uselessness, increase awareness for the 1-in-4 of us that will suffer a mental health problem in any given year and raise money for a charity I was finding useful for support and advice.
The first of my four races was the Island Race, on Anglesey Island. I started the weekend getting a fast train out of London and found myself on the beautiful north coast of Wales, lit up by the setting sun and looking pretty magical. I found my way out to the island, picked up my race number, before heading down a track that I was told would take me to a bus stop that had a bus an hour that would take me to the town where I’d booked a semi-posh, sea-view hotel room as a special treat. A few minutes down the track and car pulled up alongside me, with the driver calling out “Ydych chi’n Hannah, a ydych yn mynd i Fangor?” As it turns out John was one of the event organisers (I think he was John, I hope I remembered that right..), had been told I was going to town and he was heading that way and was offering me a lift to my hotel. So far, so great.
Unfortunately, arriving at the hotel, things took a turn for the worse. They had an email confirming my booking, but hadn’t reserved me a room. With it being race weekend, the place was fully booked and they had to call around several local hotels before finding me an empty room. I walked along dark streets until I reached my new rather sad looking B&B with a view of a petrol station. I was shown to my new room/dorm, with three single beds and a cold shower. I asked about getting an evening meal and the proprietor looked at her watch, doubtful I could get a meal in the town after 7pm. So far, not so great.
I the end I got a meal, a good sleep and a taxi to the race start where Matthew (the driver) agreed to keep my suitcase behind the tea stall and make sure it didn’t get nicked. It was another perfect day for racing, with the sun splitting the sky but a frost in the air. This video shows us all lining up at the Menai Bridge and heading out the coastal road to Beaumaris Castle. There was a really friendly camaraderie on the Island Race, with all the plodders chatting about the charities we were running for and what races we’d done before or had in mind for the year ahead. The there-and-back design of the route did mean that the eventual race winner passed me on his way back to the finish line as I approached mile 7, which was slightly demoralising, but we gave him a big cheer as he sprinted past and he gave us an encouraging applause in return. And the last mile was lined with earlier race finishers cheering on those still to finish. John had a cuppa ready for me after I’d received my medal and banana and headed over to the tea tent. It was a really friendly race. The medals for the Island Race are made from slate mined in the local area, which is a nice touch too.
RUNNING RACES, IN DIFFERENT PLACES 