Running Like a Girl (23 page)

—Haruki Murakami

F
or some, running around the neighborhood will provide more than enough stimulation. For others, me included, entering public events becomes a necessary motivation. Whether it's chasing an improved time or a medal, the thrill of the crowd's roar, or receiving the recognition of other runners, events can be worthwhile, whether you're entering a 5K fun run or trying to beat your marathon PR. Even though there is much to extol about races, they can really push your nerves. No matter how well you have prepared your mind and body, the tiniest of
practicalities can trip you up. And even if they don't put a major dent in your race day, they can cause you sleepless nights. Here I offer you the benefit of my past mistakes and successes.

Charity is the easiest way to take part in many marathons. Marathons or half marathons in big cities are hugely expensive to stage: Logistics include road closures, marshals, liaison with the police and emergency services, and the transportation and security of bags. While larger races usually have some random ballot places, the vast majority of spots are turned over to charities to allocate to runners who have applied for them. If you don't want the pressure of fund-raising for your first big race, smaller events are usually inexpensive to take part in, but be warned—what you lose in pressure to fund-raise, you lose in support en route. There is no doubt that I would not have got round my first marathon if not for my obligation to the charity. Without constantly reminding myself of the lives of those I was helping, I would have buckled under the weight of what I was attempting.

How does the system work? Charities buy places for a few hundred dollars each and give them to amateur runners on the condition that they raise significantly more money than the cost of a place. Every now and then a newspaper or a documentary will pop up discussing the “scandal” of how charities are expected to buy these places, as if they believed that every single person involved in manning roads, driving trucks, and checking bags could do it for free, but I rarely take much heed. A phenomenal amount of money is raised by people taking on a huge feat, and I struggle to see the problem with that. It is a
truly humbling experience to share a race with those less able than you, those injured by war or disease, or those running in memory of loved ones.

What I do have a problem with is the small number of runners who take on a marathon in response to some existential crisis, commit little to the training over the six-month buildup, and then send out a handful of slightly passive-aggressive e-mails demanding a tenner the week before the big day. I believe that if you are asking people to sponsor you for a long-distance run, you have earned the right to ask, because you have taken on a daunting challenge. People don't sponsor you for the day you spend in a beautiful major city, being cheered and heralded by strangers as a hero; they sponsor you for the dark, lonely mornings when you get up before the heat has come on just to get that extra five miles done. They sponsor you for the parties you attend without touching a drop of alcohol because you have a long run planned for the next day. They sponsor you as a show of support to your loved ones, who are bored rigid of having you roll around on the floor complaining about your tight hamstrings. They sponsor you because you are paying tribute to others' pain by undergoing an experience that will at times hurt you.

During a period when you might already be busier than ever with running (and endless stretching), fund-raising can be an added stress. Here are some tips on how to get on top of the situation:

Obviously, if your running is inspired by a specific person or event, this decision will be easier. Make sure you have looked
into the charities offering places. It will make all of those wiseass “Why should I effectively be funding your hobby?” comments a lot easier to deal with if you know why you have chosen your charity. And it will make the darkest points of the run more bearable if you can properly visualize the pain that you are easing in others by experiencing your own.

The best known and most reliable is
www.firstgiving.com
. They have revolutionized the whole process; indeed, they have largely removed the horror of having to write down sponsors' offers and then chase the checks indefinitely after the event. They allow you to personalize your site with photos and text, to link to social networks, and to keep up to date with who is sponsoring you and when. You can either send individual thank-yous or one large group one after the event.

If you simply want to prove to yourself that you can run the distance, be honest about that. There is little that people will spot faster than some spurious fear of brittle bone disease or a made-up uncle dying of an obscure illness. These tricks are entirely transparent, insulting to people's intelligence, and can do more harm than good. It's far easier to respect someone who tells the truth: “I have wanted to try running this distance for years, and as motivation, I have researched the charities and chosen to work with this one because of X and Y. I'm hoping this will help me get to the end, so do bung me a tenner if you have one going spare.”

Don't use social media forty-eight hours before the event to post a jumbled selection of panicky messages in UPPER-CASE LOUD VOICE about how awful it's going to be because you've been so busy that you've hardly trained. No one cares, and they won't feel like ponying up their earnings if that's how you approach things.

Post regular updates on how the training is going—keep a diary on Facebook or hashtag posts and pictures on Instagram or Twitter. Let people in on what a struggle it has been on icy January runs, or let them whoop with you when you reach significant milestones. However lonely you might feel at times, no one runs these events alone, and knowing what you've been through is far more likely to inspire people to sponsor months' worth of commitment, not just one magical day.

Asking celebrities to post a link to your sponsorship Web page on their time line is of very little use. The vast majority of the time they won't do it, and when they do, their Twitter followers rarely click on the link. This is particularly acute in the week or so before a big event, when Twitter can start to seem like a jangly begging bowl being waved in everyone's face. It is significantly more effective—and appropriate—to ask specific people with whom you have a connection than to rely on the potential kindness of strangers.

Try asking your company for some corporate sponsorship. A lot of smaller companies are happy to put up a bit of money
for you to run with their logo on your outfit, while others simply want to contribute to a healthy, worthwhile pursuit for their employees. If you work for a bigger company, it is worth getting them on board so you can send companywide e-mails promoting any events you hold to raise funds.

You don't have to ask people to sponsor you only for the race day. There is a world of other sponsorship ideas that you can dip into, from bake sales at the office to asking people for their unwanted things that you can sell on eBay to raise funds. Imagination is a more effective fund-raising tool than relentless nagging.

Divide up the amount that you need to raise, or the amount that you are aiming to raise, and work out how many people you know who might be able to sponsor you a few dollars. Ask them. Then get creative with the others. Don't repeatedly ask people who won't be able to afford it; that's rude. It's easier to play to people's strengths, getting help from those with time and money from those with money.

No one is obliged to sponsor you. You have chosen to do this event. It is your responsibility. Don't be impatient if people don't immediately cough up. Be as lavish with your thanks as you are with your requests.

Running can be funny, undignified, and ridiculous. It's not necessary to be po-faced about threshold runs and lactic acid just
because you are raising money for a worthy cause. Maintain a sense of humor—you might need it in other people before the end of your running adventure.

Find out if there are others in your area running for the same charity; if there are, try to coordinate with them. More than one set of contacts at a bake sale or a trivia night can make more of a splash and keep spirits high if you end up selling damp cupcakes at a drizzly fete with no one but the toothless guy from the booth next door for company.

This really is one of the most important points. As with anything to do with money, avoiding the issue is not going to make it go away. If you feel awkward asking people, updating social media, or doing specific e-mails, you are still obliged to deliver the required money to the charity. The way they see it, your social anxieties are less of a problem than those being endured by the people on whose behalf they work.

Add the link to your fund-raising page to your e-mail signature or in the bio of your Twitter or Facebook profile, so you can alert people without having to address it directly. Don't ignore the fact that you've got a certain amount to raise. The charities will help you, but they can't do it all. As with the running itself, the only way to do it is to, well, do it.

Most of the charities that work with running events are very good at informing their runners where the funds are going and why they are needed. It is a tremendous motivation to visualize
what the money can be turned into. There is usually a specific contact who can get back to you if you need help or have queries, and the charity always sends a team on the day to cheer you on. Make that connection if you can. Smaller charities in particular are hugely grateful for the funds, and the difference they make is immediate and tangible.

The confidence that running has given me in my appearance is immeasurable. There are people who have seen me in my running clothes before or after a run whom I never would have let see me entirely without makeup five years ago. Public running events are occasions when there are professional and amateur photographers in abundance. I want to look good in those pictures. By “good,” I mean strong, powerful, and inspiring. More than that, knowing that you don't quite look like death, even if you feel like it, is indisputably cheering.

Consequently, I have put an inordinate amount of time and effort into researching what beauty products look good, make me feel good, and, crucially, don't disintegrate before I have encountered my first glucose drink. These are my essentials:

Nail polish is the perfect boost for running. I love it anyway, but when I am taking part in a public race, I have a positively Brontë-esque passion for sparkly flashes of color on my fingernails. I have run in Tom Ford Perfect Coral, Chanel Peridot (a greeny gold), and Illamasqua Rare. Before the San Francisco Marathon, I yearned for a certain sparkly topcoat that a friend ended up traveling across the whole of London for, as she knew
how much a part of me my marathon nails are. It is almost impossible to chip or ruin nail polish while distance running, which makes it the King of Products for these purposes.

As far as my toes are concerned, I prefer to leave them bare, so I can survey any damage incurred when I get home. Make sure you cut and file your toenails about three or four days before the event so that they are neat but not so cropped that they leave flesh beyond the nail, which really hurts after three or four hours of running.

For my first marathon, I knew that I wanted to use one item of makeup that would stand out, stay the distance, and make me feel like a disco goddess even if drenched in sweat, rain, and humiliation. After much consideration, I went with an eyeliner that I'd used at my sister's eighties-themed hen party. Bright, almost violent green, it was MAC's Liquidlast in Aqualine, which takes about three days to remove. It didn't budge an inch on the hen night, despite our spending hours learning a dance routine and making a pop video to Whitney Houston's “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” I was finding neon sparkles on my pillow for days afterward, so I had absolute faith that the eyeliner would last a marathon. My faith was not misplaced. Despite at least an hour's downpour, I was still wearing it in all of the grinning finish-line photographs. Sure, it looked a little demented, but I was proud to cling to a little disco glitter despite the horrors of the day.

False eyelashes for running can feel very “Jane Fonda workout video,” too close for comfort to brickish bronzer streaked
high on cheekbones and slick lip gloss. But if your lashes are as translucent as mine, you can look like an albino rabbit in finishing photos, and mascara applied six hours earlier isn't going to make the distance. I'm not suggesting you apply falsies the morning of the race, which would be altogether too stressful, but I have become somewhat devoted to an occasional twirl with semi-permanent eyelashes done professionally in a salon. Applied individually to your own lashes, they make you wake up looking like Brigitte Bardot and are almost impossible to remove until they grow off with your own lashes. They are a firm marathon friend, and I save the requisite cash to make sure I can have a set on for big events.

Running does extraordinary things to one's skin. As someone who has always had very dry skin, I had anticipated that a few extra hours a week spent outside would leave it more parchment-like than ever. In fact, the opposite happens. The boost of circulating blood, as well as the sweat pumping out of my pores, gives me a glow that no product has been able to replicate. The salt of a good sweat is an incomparable exfoliant, as is the sea spray that blasts my face on seafront runs. That said, dry skin can be grim on long runs, and during the winter, I can feel rather battered. Clinique's Moisture Surge is my solution.