I think over the weekend I was again reminded what a selfish sport running really is. It was Wilmslow Half on Sunday. In the past, this has been my race. It's meant a lot to me. Nothing I can explain, but I would move heaven and earth to ensure I was running and in top form. I joined the club, whose race it is, got more involved in my running and training and did better and better each year, raising the bar for the next. In recent years, the desire has been taken away from me, but it's unavoidable.
Each year it's the talk of the town, road closure warning signs, and the razzmatazz and hullabaloo of the start and finish, a spectacle to immerse yourself in and makes you proud, or irritated to be involved with. I've witnessed and fought off the call to for club members to marshal. Why would I marshal my home event? I want to run it. The call had become close to becoming an order...a condition of club membership. No choice, you can't run, you must marshal. It's unlikely I'd have run this year, clearly I can't even walk just now.
So I volunteered. I simply helped out on the day, water distribution point set up. I felt heroic and noble turning up on the day...and was instantly greeted with the sensation that my contribution was already late and insignificant. You don't organise and deliver the North Wests premier Half Marathon by turning up a bit early. There was a military operation in full swing, something that had clearly been going on for many months. We set off, dropped the water and associated equipment at each of the water stops, then found a spot to watch.
Eventually the leaders came by, a trickle of runners turns to a torrent, until again it eventually fizzles out to the last runner. And then it's over. We reversed what we started earlier, packed up, and picked up a first round of litter, knowing a deep cleanse would follow the next day. By the time we got back it was all over, yet we'd seen none of it. We'd been out for about 8 hrs in total, so other could run their race in just a fraction of that time. And we were just a few. There were hundreds of marshals, each with there own story, selflessly giving their day.
Most of them were in some remote spot away from the glory of the start and finish, so the runners could do what they wanted to do. I couldn't help but think it was a bit selfish of me in past years to insist on running when others work silently and uncomplaining to make it all happen. And it all seemed so trivial. Massive input providing water, yet to watch it dispensed and disposed of so casually. But it was all worth it. Volunteering....I would do it again in a heartbeat.
