RUNNING | WRITING | CREATIVE WRITIG

After Four Marathons and Seven Half-marathons I’ve Finally Begun to Understand Why I Run

The challenges and freedom are two of the reasons

The start line (all photos by author)

**Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go — **T.S. Eliot

It took me more than twenty years to grasp the concept of running as not just a stamina-driven activity. I became a runner in my early 20s. However, it was only when I started training for my first marathon in Brighton a decade ago, that I realised that the combination of brawn and brains was as vital as a nutritious, balanced diet, and a good night’s sleep.

Having strong legs is not enough. Developing the will to cross the finish line requires both physical and mental strength. My latest “lightbulb moment” arrived on Sunday 17th May, 2026, when I crossed the finish line at the Hackney Half — the so-called “Glastonbury” of half-marathons in the UK.

Sunday 17th May, 2026. Soaking up the vibes in Hackney Marshes

After the event, and whilst talking to my partner, I reflected on what had gone on before. The run had been my best one ever by a country mile. My pace had been excellent, my posture brilliant, and my recovery outstanding. These are the three elements that I usually focus on when running long distances.

As I sat at a table and tucked into a duck salad, I thought about how running — and cycling — have always forced my brain to collaborate with my body. A good example of this was during my second marathon in Brighton, when a little voice in my head advised me to walk for a bit after the twenty-second mile. At first, I resisted the voice, until a hundred yards after, I capitulated. It was the best decision I made that day. It was the reason why I crossed the finish line later on.

I took up running when I was still in uni, and living in Havana, Cuba. At the time an economic crisis (not dissimilar to the one the country is experiencing now) was sweeping through the island. There was barely enough to eat. And yet, there I was, in Havana University Stadium, jogging with the bare, Caribbean sun hitting my slim frame.

Running was at the time an escape valve from everything that was happening in my homeland. Corruption, scarcity, and misery were everywhere. For me it was either running or going mad. Yes, sometimes I turned up at the track at midday with nothing in my belly but the breakfast I had eaten that morning. Or barefoot because I had no trainers to wear. But, I had to run.

Little by little, other reasons for running began to reveal themselves to me. The first one was the challenge to get going. It was not unusual during that early period to ask myself why on earth I was putting myself through this ordeal. However, within a quarter of an hour I would settle into my run and all regrets were forgotten.

My little moment of fame. With the actress and presenter Siobhan McSweeney

There was also a sense of freedom in my ground-pounding routine which, in those uni days, contrasted sharply with the Cuban government’s clampdown on our right to speak our minds. For thirty or forty-five minutes, I was alone with my uncensored thoughts.

Fast forward two decades after and I incorporated another element into my running, especially when attempting to be marathon-ready: mindfulness. It happened whilst training for my first Brighton Marathon. For months I ran without listening to any music, a change that unsettled me at first, but which I warmed to eventually. This tweak allowed me to focus on my surroundings, on the relationship between the pavement and my body, and on the nexus between my body and my mind.

With my partner

Since then I’ve gained a powerful insight into my motivation for running. It’s the exercise, and at the same time the challenges. It’s the sweat — few tears, and no blood, I’m afraid — and also the tuning into my surroundings. It’s the camaraderie at the start line, and the finisher’s medal at the end. It’s, to misquote Eliot, to find out how far I’ve come and how far I’ve yet to go.

Screenshots of my Strava

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[embed]Exile Becoming a castaway in my own citymedium.com