My countdown to the Mini Marathon: ‘A lot of runners say you’ll end up loving it...well’

I have not read critically acclaimed author Haruki Murakami’s memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I have not seen The Running Man. Running Up That Hill isn’t my favourite Kate Bush song.

If it’s not clear, I have no interest in running. I do not like talking about it, nor do I even like thinking about it.

Running, however, has unfortunately been at the forefront of my thoughts this summer, as, in a most uncharacteristic move, I have signed up for The Echo Women’s Mini Marathon, which takes place on Sunday, September 20.

A friend’s due date is September 21. “Oh, that’s the day after the Mini Marathon,” I tell her. “I’d rather be having another baby.”

I have two children, so I do not say this lightly.

It’s not actually my first Mini Marathon. I entered it over 20 years ago, with my mother, back when it was a 5km route. We walked it, and when I tried to reminisce about this experience with mum recently, she informed me that she had no memory of me doing it with her.

Perhaps I was such a terrible Mini Marathon companion that she has blocked it from her memory.

Onwards and upwards, and I’m back again. No longer a teenager, and determined to run it this time. But, given my lack of running ability, I suspect that I’ll be very happy for everyone to forget about my participation this time around, too.

I blame my husband. He is a runner and this year – after a string of 10ks – completed the half-marathon at the Analog Devices Cork City Marathon. I think I must have been jealous of the attention he got, because it was this effort that inspired me to sign up for the Mini Marathon.

It’s a 6km route, so quite a distance shorter than a half-marathon, but for me, as a non-runner, it might as well be one of the ultramarathons that Murakami writes about.

People who have been running for a long time do not quite comprehend that I am literally starting from zero.

My friend and neighbour, who has agreed to do the race with me (possibly not realising that she might have to physically drag me for the last couple of kilometres), recently completed the Cork City Marathon 10k. She entered quite late on a transfer ticket. “I was going to ask if you would get a transfer ticket too,” she said to me, “but then I remembered that [husband] is running the Half so you probably wouldn’t have anyone to look after the kids.”

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “Lack of childcare is indeed the reason why I couldn’t run a 10k”. Best not to mention that, at the time, I could barely run to the end of my garden without getting a cramp.

I’ve got better. That’s the annoying thing about exercise, isn’t it? The more you do, the better you get at it.

One of the reasons I’m doing this (aside from trying to glean some of the limelight off my husband) is to establish a proper fitness routine. I’m two years post-partum and rapidly approaching 40, so I’m keen to stay healthy and active. My problem is that I get bored with exercise easily, so I need to set myself challenges to stay engaged. Running 6km has, and will be, a challenge.

After a couple of months of build-up, I have finally successfully completed a 6k on the treadmill at the gym. My road training has been a lot more piecemeal. I’ve been claiming that is due to the warm weather (even the gym air-con barely cuts it, and I’m sliding off the treadmill in a slick of sweat when I do more than a single kilometre), but in reality, it’s actually because I find running in public intrinsically embarrassing.

I have no idea why. I am not a self-conscious person in other areas of my life. Nor have I ever – not even once – observed someone running and thought anything other than ‘good for them’ (non-sarcastically, honestly!) Yet, for some reason, I am convinced that, out of all the millions of people in the world who run in public every day, I am the only one who looks like a baby giraffe taking its first steps in a pair of overpriced trainers. This is not helped by the fact that when I do run in my local park, other runners always share words of encouragement with me.

This may be due to the inherent good nature and camaraderie of the running community. Or it could be because I look completely pitiful. I’m convinced it’s the latter.

It’s a common observation that runners really like to talk about their runs. I do not. There’s not really much to say about my pace (slow) or my form (a physiotherapist’s goldmine). Unlike Haruki Murakami, whose running apparently informs his creative work, I do not draw any artistic inspiration from the experience of putting one foot in front of the other in what is a much more unpleasant method than simply walking.

Instead, here are some of the thoughts that go through my mind when I am running:

Oh my god, this is terrible.

Why does my breathing sound like that, is that normal?

My legs no longer feel part of my body, yet somehow still hurt.

How long do I have left, surely not much? Oh no, I’m only half a kilometre in.

The other day, I came home from a 2km jog and googled “can you break a rib from running?” This does not bode well for September.

I’m doing it all for a good cause though, fundraising for Breakthrough Cancer Research. The Cork-based charity funds world-class research here in Ireland to improve the quality of life of children and adults diagnosed with cancer, and ultimately save lives. They work to find new treatments for cancers with some of the poorest prognoses.

My husband works for the charity, so I’ve seen for myself how passionate the staff, volunteers and researchers are about beating cancer, a disease that has impacted so many of our lives.

I joke about my training efforts, but of course, running 6km is absolutely nothing compared to facing a cancer diagnosis. The thought of this keeps me going through my more arduous treadmill sessions.

A lot of runners will tell you that it is addictive. You start out hating it, then you do Couch to 5k and you love it, you can’t get enough, you’re always thinking of that next run. Perhaps one of the reasons why I know that I am not a natural runner is the fact that I have been running for a few months now, three times a week, have managed to run for 6km without stopping, and... well.

A friend of mine asked me if it gets more fun with the more I do. “No,” I replied, and meant it. I will concede one thing, though: It does get easier.

And while I can’t say that I’m looking forward to actually running in the event, I am really excited to cross the finish line in September.

Who knows – perhaps I’ll even want to talk about it!

• To register for this year’s Echo Women’s Mini Marathon, visit: https://www.echolive.ie/minimarathon/