Why I run and what I listen to

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For many years, I’ve had an on-off, love/hate relationship with running. As a teen, I used to jog from our house to the bog in Spiddal, puffing my way up steep hills, past reeks of turf and on to the dump where under cover of darkness people disposed of their fridges, bits of cars, and other rubbish. Once, I took part in a two-mile road race and for the life of me, I can’t remember why. I hated running and this was in the days before Spotify and podcasts. I didn’t even have a Walkman. I was pretty sporty though — I played camogie and basketball — so I needed to be fit and I was also, more importantly, terrified of anyone in authority. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was a doormat. When I was told to join the cross-country running team at school, I did. (The same thing happened when I was told to take up cello lessons — the orchestra needed another cello and I was deemed a perfect candidate in the sense that I could never say no. I did, however, enjoy playing the cello.)

Since then, I’ve taken up running dozens of times. I’ve had gym memberships in Paris, London, Nairobi and Dakar. I never went regularly enough to really get my money’s worth and at some point, the novelty would wear off and I would revert to my natural state of book-loving, TV-addicted couch potato. I ran for a while in Abidjan but then a civil war intervened and I was too busy to jog. I ran in Dakar to try and lose my pregnancy weight but the guilt, the guilt! Leaving my child at home to sweat on a treadmill. I’d burn in hell for my self-serving vanity, surely.

I started running in Kenya for possibly the silliest reason of all. During the rainy season, it gets very cold in Nairobi and houses that are built for heat turn into damp, draughty dungeons. I was working at home — writing my first novel — and I just couldn’t bear it. I decided I had to get my blood moving. So I started to run. It was hell. Nairobi is 1,795 metres above sea level and the air is very thin. And I am a smoker. I puffed like a train around the back of my girls’ school, barely managing 1 km before collapsing. But I kept at it and when we moved back to London and my runs offered respite from tough commutes, office politics and the daily pressures of life in a bustling, expensive city. When I’d come home from work and start ranting and raving about slights, real and imagined, housework not done, clothes not ironed, my husband would say: “Do you want to go for a run, dear?” Of course, I was furious. Of course, I went, cursing his condescension all the way around Primrose Hill. Of course, he was right.

And now, many years later, in our new home of St Albans, I think I can finally call myself a runner. This year, I set myself a challenge. Well, my phone app did really. You vs The Year. Could I run 1,020 km in 2020? It turns out I could. Last week, I reached that fabled number with more than 100 days still in the tank. 

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Of course, running is the 2020 trend. We’ve got to stay healthy, we’ve got to stay sane and sure, there’s nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. And running has helped me to keep insanity at bay because it gives me a (perhaps false) sense of control. It’s something positive I can do to strengthen my lungs and my body and my mind as we all deal with a horrible virus that has poisoned the very air we breathe.
 
It has to be said that the middle-aged runner is a bit of a cliché and I do wonder sometimes if there is something a little tragic about a 47-year-old woman puffing her way around the streets of St Albans, down to the Cathedral, around the lake in Verulamium and then out onto Holywell Hill (because there is no way I am going up the hill to the Cathedral). What am I searching for? Eternal youth? Is this a mutton-dressed-as-lamb situation? My daughters would say my running gear certainly verges on the tragic. 
But if a middle-aged runner is a bit of a cliché then I have another one for you: the running writer, or writerly runner, if you prefer. It’s all true: running does help you solve plot points; it does fill the well so that you can tackle that tricky chapter with more verve when you return; it fires synapses that had turned sluggish as you slouched on the couch, typing with one finger and deleting with two. It also helps to dispel the rage that builds when you realise that your morning’s work bears little or no resemblance to the sweeping epic/moving elegy for times long past/literary masterpiece/artful depiction of love and loss that you described so eloquently after your fourth glass of wine the night before. 
You can read a lot of wiser articles about the almost magical synergy between writing and running — I for one am going to dig our Murakami’s book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running — but there is also this New Yorker article by the author from 2008, which is worth a look. 
Here, I thought I would list some of the podcasts that kept me going over those 1,020 km. I cannot run in silence. Afterall, I am running to get away from my thoughts, to silence them enough to allow my subconscious to get on with the critical work of turning my scattered musings into something coherent that might have a place outside my head. I should also confess that after years of laughing at people with funny white tails hanging from their ears, my AirPods are now one of my most prized possessions, so much so that I broke out in a cold sweat the one time I lent them to my teenage daughter. 
So, if you are a writer, or you are curious about the writing process, or indeed curious about life, check out some of these wonderful podcasts. They got me from A to B and beyond:
 
The Honest Authors podcast: Best-selling authors Gillian McAllister and Holly Seddon discuss the truth about being an author and interview authors, agents and many more for expert insight. Listening to this podcast is like hanging out with good friends. I love the informality but I have also learned so much from the interviews. 
Writers’ Routine: Every week, host Dan Simpson talks to an author about their routine, their work, their inspiration and the tricks of the trade they use to plot and publish a bestseller. This is a great resource because these writers really break down the process, talking honestly and openly about how they get from an idea to a final draft. It’s a great pick-me-up for those days when you think you should really have worked harder at maths in school.
 
So You Want To Be A Writer with Valerie Khoo and Allison Tait : Presented by Australian authors and journalists Valerie Khoo and Allison Tait, this podcast is packed with book trends, competitions, useful links and the incredibly popular Word of the Week feature (which always makes me laugh). Again, it’s like hanging out with friends. I love the dynamic between Al and Val, and their interviews with authors are invariably inspiring. I’m also a sucker for Australian accents. I blame Hugh Jackman. 
How Do You Cope With Elis and John: Elis James and John Robins talk to a range of guests about the challenges and hurdles they’ve faced in their own lives, whilst asking the question… How Do You Cope? Now, I’m a late convert to BBC Radio 5 Live. For years, I thought it was all about sports but now I listen to it all the time. Elis and John are two of my favourite presenters — quirky, irreverent and I’m a sucker for a Welsh accent too. This feels like the perfect pandemic podcast: wise words and hard-won wisdom from people who have coped with some of life’s toughest challenges, from life as an overworked doctor, to a loved one’s suicide to chronic insomnia. 
The Michelle Obama podcast: The Michelle Obama Podcast features the former First Lady diving deep into conversations with loved ones—family, friends, and colleagues—on the relationships in our lives that make us who we are. I could listen to Michelle Obama’s voice all day: calm, funny, and warm. This podcast also appeals to the feminist nosy parker in me — a window on the world of one of the world’s most powerful women. What’s not to like. And the advice is thoughtful and always relevant. 
So there you go: some of the shows that have got me through 1,020 km in 2020. I do sometimes succumb to listening to the news but that just makes my blood boil and I’m not sure that’s great for a woman of my age and delicate mental state. In any case, I plan to keep running, right through to the end of this shocker of a year.
I’m taking a break right now though because … and this is perhaps the most embarrassing revelation of all: I seem to have busted my back by simply sitting on a bench and watching a hockey match last weekend. I did also carry my daughter’s hockey bag home afterwards but I can hardly blame that as I have regularly upbraided her for whinging about how heavy it is and how she can’t possibly be expected to walk to the hockey grounds, which are a mere 20 minutes from our house. Nice to know whoever’s running the show has a sense of humour.