Well, this is a bit embarassing. On the weekend I put up a live stream to the global Wings for Life race, which I was heading to Silverstone to take part in. Anyone who ended up watching it may have seen rather a lot of me, because, um, I ended up winning it – first female, anyway.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=BPYTuHGv88Q%3Fwmode%3Dopaque%26feature%3Doembed
The race is a unique one – it takes place simultaneously at multiple locations around the world – and raises huge sums for the Wings for Life foundation into spinal cord injury research. Runners are chased by a ‘catcher car’ – in the UK driven by none other than David Coulthard. (Friend at the start line to him: “Is this the slowest you’ll ever have driven a car, David?” Coulthard: “Ha, you obviously didn’t follow my Formula One career!”) You get a half hour head start, after which the car starts very slowly but gets progressively faster. As it comes past you, your timing chip registers you as ‘caught’. The winners are essentially the people who run furthest, and get caught last. I managed just shy of 35km, while Tom Payne, the male winner in the UK, did an astonishing 61km.
It was mentally very tough, at least for the last few miles, when you started praying for the car to appear behind you, but have to keep going, never knowing when the ‘finish line’ might come. It was pretty darn hilly, too. Huge thanks to my friend Simon (who apropos of absolutely nothing, edits the brilliant Like the Wind magazine which you must all subscribe to) who I ran with. I’ll forgive you, Simon, for saying “only about another five miles” when it was actually more like 11. Eventually.
Knowing, towards the end, that another lady was only about 300m behind me kept the pressure firmly on. But I just about hung on, and was duly presented with a large glass trophy in the middle of a country lane in Northamptonshire – and a trip to one of the other global races next year.
The most surreal afternoon of my life didn’t get any more normal: being interviewed, getting a press release with my own name on it, being cheered when entering a bar … I’m beginning to think I imagined it. After all “I ran for ages and ages and ages and David Coulthard chased me in a car” does sound like something you might dream after a bit too much cheese.
So, that was my very unusual weekend. After the marathon, then this, I promise next week’s debrief will read “got up, ate toast, went for a jog”. And finally an apology to my coach who told me, post-marathon, to stick to an hour of running and not be daft. Sorry, coach.
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