Keeping GOING

I’ve been nervous for days, worrying if I’m ready for this 10k. But it’s nothing compared to the feeling I get when I arrive and join the queue to register at one of the tables.

Even though I’m here an hour before the start time, there are hundreds of people here already. Ahead of me is a group of twenty-somethings with feather boas and comedy glasses, a middle-aged man practising deep breathing with a very serious look on his face, and several competitors with lean bodies and ripped abs who probably do this kind of thing every weekend.

And then there’s me. Denise Richard, middle-aged mother of two, three months short of 50, and eight pounds over my ideal weight.

‘Is this your first time?’ asks the lady at the desk. I try to laugh but my nerves are getting the better of me.

‘Is it that obvious?’ I reply, trying to complete my registration card with a shaking hand.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she says kindly. ‘Give yourself time and you’ll finish the course, just don’t push yourself too hard at the beginning – save that for the final straight.’ And with a smile she hands me my number and turns her attention to the well-toned man who’s next in line.

I take my place at the start among the hundreds of others. My heart is pounding before I even begin to run, there are a thousand butterflies in my stomach and I wonder if my legs will be capable of carrying me around the course. I try jogging on the spot to get me in the mood and put my earphones in and listen to the playlist my daughter has created for me.

If you’d told me three years ago that I would be doing this, I would have laughed and said that you were off your