Lawson Dauer
(Beginner)
‘Fifty seven year old male, portly (but not quite obese), ex-cyclist required for an unusual athletic event.’ That’s what the notice in my local park didn’t say. However, walking with my wife and dog through Heaton Park, Manchester a notice did catch my eye inviting entrants for the first ever UK Backward Running Championships. We both laughed, boy did we laugh. Sadly an hour or so later I couldn’t stop me pressing the ‘submit’ button, I was a confirmed entrant in said championships.
The biggest worry was could I train to run, or at least fast walk, a mile backwards. However, within a couple of days of entering, everybody (including most customers of the RSPCA shop where I volunteer) knew of what I was attempting. Great! I was now certain that somebody would ask how the training was going –‘ I’ve spent the last few days on my settee watching Jeremy Kyle’ was not the correct response. A suggestion that I use the run to raise funds for the RSPCA (I eventually raised £200) was a further incentive to keep going.
Finding a regular training location was easy. A couple of hundred yards from home is a football pitch / dog walking area. At 6am there was nobody to watch me running backwards apart from Jimmy (the dog). Surprisingly, perhaps, running backwards came quite easily. On my training patch I didn’t even have to worry about looking behind me as I knew just about every blade of grass. Training was varied with the odd trip to the seaside. I didn’t even get any unusual looks there. When I ran backwards along the beach people (if they noticed at all) assumed that I was some sort of athletics coach training my wife who was jogging forwards. A potentially major set-back when I badly tore a calf muscle & could barely walk for three weeks. Thankfully, a local physio performed a minor miracle on me. He had to. With the sponsorship taking on a momentum of its own, failure to complete was not an option.
Race day arrived & it was pleasantly sunny. We (myself; Mrs myself; the dog; and, eventually, about 20 family & friends) arrived at the start point to finally come face to face with the opposition. I felt like turning around when I discovered that one of the entrants had recently won the World 5000 metre backwards championships. Still, if my presence in the race didn’t worry him, why should his presence worry me? Adrenaline, great for boosting the self-confidence! It was now that I could focus on my genuine goals. Most importantly I had to finish – I owed that to my sponsors. I didn’t want to finish last – does anybody? Finally, I wanted the training to be worth something & set a time inside about 20 or 25 minutes. Now is perhaps a good time to explain that Heaton Park has been my back yard since I was about 5 years old. I know Heaton Park. What I didn’t realise until then was that the gently sloping pathways are the Eiger & Matterhorn in disguise when running backwards.
Mrs myself wanted me to finish – so much so that she appointed Big Al (family friend & best man at our wedding) to be my minder & jog around with me. It was Big Al who took it upon himself to tell me such gems as ‘You are doing fine – that runner is a good 30 yards behind you’. One thing that you do know when running backwards is where those coming up behind you are. What I shouldn’t thank Big Al for is telling me, with 600 yards to go, that he & another friend would double their sponsorship donation if I broke 20 minutes. Then was not the time as it tensed me up & I started to lose my rhythm.
Around the final bend & only 250 yards to go. Past the lakeside café, one very short & gentle rise & I’d be home. I started to hear my details being given out on the PA system. Disaster!!! Marathon runners talk about hitting the wall – that moment when the body feels that it cannot take any more exertion. I’ll bet they’ve never hit the wall after just 1700 yards? Those three weeks of missed training almost cost me. Somehow, from somewhere quite deep, I found the willpower to complete those final 60 yards. The dial was very much in the red zone.
Over the finish line & I’d made it. Turns out that I didn’t win. The winner was Garret, our World Champion and one of the nicest sportsmen I have ever met, in a time of just 7 minutes 30 seconds. Most people can’t run a mile forwards in that time. Me? Twenty seventh overall (out of thirty two) in 18 minutes 30 seconds.
Really the finishing position turned out to be irrelevant, because we all won. How can you not be a winner when you have taken part in an inaugural event, you’ve had great fun training & in the race itself, and you’ve made it to the finishing line?