Nothing to Fear

What are you afraid of?

The last time I ran with my headtorch was at Thunder Run in July. Truth be told, although the weekend itself was great fun, I hated everything about the running experience. My first lap, in miserable muddy conditions, reduced me to tears. My second lap in the middle of the night wasn't much better and I was a quivering wreck by the end of it. I didn’t write much about the weekend; I was just glad when it was all over.

But ever since my first attempts. I've always loved trail runs at night; after my experience at Thunder Run, I wasn’t so sure. 

But I wasn't ready to give up the idea of night running. 

My experience at the Rodbaston 10k gave me back some of my lost confidence for coping with mud, water and woodland obstacles.

But how did I feel about in the dark?

Was I brave enough to get back out there? What if I couldn't do it? 

A few weeks ago, I signed up for the Delamere Forest Night Runner 10k... I'd run it before and enjoyed it. I liked the route. I knew what to expect. It seemed like a good way of rediscovering my love of night runs in a familiar context. But a little bit of fear still lurked at the back of my mind. 

I almost didn't get there... bad weather, blocked roads and changes of plan made me wonder whether it was meant to be. 

Was this a challenge I was really ready for? Would fear win out?

I just about made it to the start line, attached my headtorch and took a few deep breaths. That feeling of fear was still there... but what was I really afraid of? 

I wasn't worried about pace or not being the quickest - I'd run my fastest Hanley parkrun since April 2014 just a few hours earlier and felt good.

I wasn't worried about completing the distance - I smiled my way around 10 miles last weekend.

I wasn’t worried getting covered in mud – I was wearing old trainers that could go straight in the bin at the end and everything else was washable.

I wasn't worried about getting my feet wet - I'd run through the biggest of big puddles in Hanley Park that morning.

So what was really making me fearful?

As I stood on the startline, I realised my fear came from my desire to enjoy the experience. I wanted to relish aspects that had made night-running so much fun in the past - the confusion in my senses, the solitude, the variety of the terrain, the unsteadiness on my feet, the uncertainty about what's around each corner. I'd relished all these things in the mist on Mam Tor and the quiet isolation at Hornchurch Country Park.

But at Thunder Run this year, these things had become negatives not positives. I'd forgotten that running in the dark was meant to be exhilarating and make your heart race a little bit. It isn't meant to be straightforward. It does give you moments when you are not sure what to do next.

And that's ok. In fact, that's what makes it fun. It's about feeling the fear and doing it anyway.

As the race got underway, I relaxed. I looked around, watching the lights from all the headtorches add a magical sparkle to the woods. I looked up at the stars - the sky was finally clear after all that rain - and relished the lack of light pollution as we climbed to the highest point of the course. There were a couple of moments in the muddiest section in the woods and the steepest parts of the downhill track where my heart did race and I thought back to the horrors of Thunder Run, but it didn't turn to panic. It was a good fear this time - Thunder Run ghosts exorcised!

And in that final downhill mile - running as hard as I could and not worrying that my headtorch was fading fast and I really couldn't see more than a couple of metres in front of me - I felt just like I had at the first night run on Wimbledon Common - brave, exhilarated and inspired.

I have nothing to fear!

And I got a glow in the dark medal