Mind over matter
Most people travel to Paris for a romantic sojourn, fashion week or to see some of the most famous art in the world. Sophie Tedmanson travelled there to fulfil a longheld dream: to run a marathon.
Standing on the Champs-Élysées on a brisk Parisian spring morning, looking back at the Arc de Triomphe, surrounded by thousands of runners, I suddenly burst into tears of overwhelming emotion. I was about to realise a long-held dream to run a marathon, and was doing it in one of the prettiest cities in the world. The British woman next to me was also crying; to my left a French woman holding hands with her nervous-looking elderly mother smiled and offered “bon chance!”, while a group of men behind us held aloft a disabled boy in a wheelchair who they were about to push 42 kilometres to raise funds for charity, as the entire field erupted into cheers. Running a marathon is more than just a bucket list fitness goal. It is a challenge of body, mind and soul, and can change your life.
I have been a runner for many years, but began seriously when I decided to get fit and healthy four years ago after finding myself in a dark place of depression and anxiety. I gave up alcohol, began to reassess my life and tried to live one of more positivity. In doing so I became addicted to running – it helps my mental health, keeps me fit and enables me to see some of the prettiest sights in the world on my travels. Running the Paris Marathon in April was a culmination of all of these things, and a triumphant reminder that I could get through anything.
While the marathon itself is epic, so is the training. The marathon took over my life six months before the race, when I began training. I consulted with nutritionists, a sports psychologist and my personal trainer, and acquired a running coach, Nike trainer Sam Strutt.
Learning new techniques and stats kept it interesting, as did being accountable to my coach. I trained four times a week, sometimes before dawn on a work day, culminating in a long run every Sunday that increased to 36 kilometres two weeks before the race. By the time I filed up to the starting line in Paris, I had run in freezing rain, hail and even 28-degree sunshine for more than 750 kilometres all over Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Los Angeles and Paris. I had worn through sneakers, singlets, tights and earphones.
BEFORE I KNEW IT I WAS ROUNDING THE CORNER AND RUNNING TOWARD THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE
All the running made me an eating machine, and my social life revolved around my training. Friends would meet me for brunch after a long run to the beach, and every Saturday evening became a carb-loading session as we ate our way around Sydney’s Italian restaurants.
But running for 42 kilometres also relies on mental strength. You are running for four hours or more. All the training, gear and gadgets help, but in the end it comes down to your mind, your body and your legs: just you and the road.
Coach Strutt says one of his training tactics is to help athletes find their inner voice, “a confident kilometre-crusher and a ruthless discomfort depressor”. He adds: “I prescribe training that will show your mind and your body that you can achieve your goal.”
There is a remarkable mental toughness in marathon runners. The Olympic race itself (first run in 1896) was inspired by the Greek soldier Pheidippides, a messenger who, legend has it, ran from the Battle of Marathon to Athens to declare war was over in 490 BC, and famously died when he got there. Female marathoners officially came later (there was no Olympic marathon event for women until 1984). But marathon and long-distance running is becoming increasingly popular among women.
Of the more than 43,000 runners who finished this year’s Paris Marathon (with the average age of 41), 25 per cent were women, an increase on last year. According to research by the Danish runners’ site RunRepeat.com, the percentage of women participating in marathons globally was up by just under 27 per cent in the period from 2009 to 2014.
Melbourne psychologist Michelle Cranston began training for her first marathon to help improve her mental health. “I can now say that I am the happiest I’ve ever been,” she says. “The immediate effects, such as the runner’s high/ endorphins, sense of achievement, fresh air, bonding with my dog (my main running buddy!), etcetera, are incredible antidepressants.”
Anthony Klarica is a sports psychologist with the Carlton Football Club and works with elite athletes. He says a lot of women he works with use exercise to help with depression or anxiety, and to help build mental strength. He recommends setting an achievable outcome to work towards – to simply finish a race, not necessarily a specific time that will stress you out. Being vocal about your goal helps not only you, but also those around you, he says. “When you participate, you are an inspiration to others surrounding you.”
New York-based Australian filmmaker Sarah Dowland first began running eight years ago after being inspired by colleagues. She has since completed six marathons and is currently training for the Berlin event in November. She has also inspired her husband, Jon Collins, to take it up.
“It has changed our lives,” says Dowland. “No matter what is going on in the world or even in my life, running makes it better. For me it’s a meditation that I can turn into fun or competition. One of our favourite things is running in a new place; you discover a lot of things you may not otherwise see.”
Angela Raso, communications manager at Clinique, says she learnt the capacity of her mental strength after dealing with a midrace injury while running her first marathon in New York in 2014. “Stopping was just not an option,” she says. “I focused on the pain and followed it as it moved around in my body. I had read about mindful running and staying in the moment, and that is what got me through.” Raso also ran in this year’s Paris Marathon – and remarkably recorded a personal best time despite another injury – which doubled as a holiday with her running friends. My family and friends also embraced my marathon dream, some travelling to Paris to watch me run. Others followed my progress through Instagram and Facebook. By the time I arrived in Paris, I had a strong group of “Team Ted” supporters, including my parents and best friend, who all flew to watch me, as well as other friends from Europe. Seeing their smiling faces along the route – and especially getting a hug and encouraging words from my mum as I emerged from a tunnel at the 29-kilometre mark with the Eiffel Tower in the background, right when I was starting to physically hurt – is a memory I will always treasure.
A few kilometres later, though, disaster struck. I was so excited at being three quarters of the way through the race – having already run the most spectacular route past the Tuileries, the Louvre, Bastille, Notre-Dame and along the Seine – that as I attempted to take a photo of the Eiffel Tower I dropped my phone, smashing it and leaving me with no music. I never run without music, and I had specially programmed a running list of anthemic tunes to help me to the finish line. For the last 10 kilometres – the most challenging segment when your body and mind are literally screaming to stop – it was just going to be my own thoughts and my aching legs. A panic came over me and my bad knee started throbbing. Suddenly I heard an “Allez Sophie!” and saw a French child yelling out the name on my bib, and reaching out to give me a high five. I realised it was my time to mentally dig deep, soak up the moment and the stunning surrounds – I was in Paris! I distracted myself from the pain by replaying all the training runs in my head, all the stress I had gone through to get there; my friends who had taken up running because of me; my nieces back home who emailed photos holding banners calling me a “running queen”; and the smiles on my parents’ faces an hour earlier.
Before I knew it I was rounding the corner to Avenue Foch and running toward the Arc de Triomphe, this time towards the finish line, physically and mentally tired but all in one piece. As I crossed it, years after I took up running and first dreamed of running a marathon, 16 weeks after I started training, and four hours and 15 minutes after I crossed the start, I once again sobbed. Relief. Adrenaline. Enormous pride washed over me. A few steps later an ageing volunteer hung a medal around my neck. “Formidable Sophie!” he said. I grinned through my tears and blew him a kiss. Formidable indeed: I was now a marathon runner.