As well as often being asked how I run, people are intrigued to know what it feels like to run when you can’t see where you’re going.
For those that haven’t followed earlier posts, my lack of sight means I have light and dark perception only, therefore I have no option but to run with a guide. I’m 31, and have been blind for over half my life, so I’m very comfortable facing challenges people might consider tricky without the ability to see what you’re doing.
I am attached to my running buddy by way of a sweatband bandanna, knotted in the middle to form two loops. I hold one, the guide the other, leaving us enough room to run as freely as possible, whilst allowing the guide to retain control for obstacle avoidance purposes.
A guide running partnership is all about teamwork, relying on confidence, communication, understanding, anticipation and practise. Like a sprint relay team, tennis or badminton doubles pair or defensive unit in football, when you don’t have these, you’re chance of success becomes much harder.
Above all though, trust is absolutely crucial if the blind runner is going to perform to the best of their ability, and that’s on both sides. The runner has to have one hundred percent confidence that the guide is going to do everything they can to ensure accidents are avoided. The guide has to be confident that they have the runner’s trust and that the runner will respond to instructions quickly, as well as trust in themselves to make the crucial calls at the right time, not being overly protective whilst not taking unnecessary risks. Both have to understand that a problem may occur, work hard to prevent this from happening or minimise their impact, but, when something doesn’t go to plan, it must not be allowed to have a negative effect on the bigger picture. A jockey will come off their horse, a cyclist will crash, a footballer will miss an open goal, a cricketer will drop a catch they should hold, the strong minded doesn’t let it affect them. If you run and you can’t see where you’re going, it’s inevitable something will go wrong at some point: that’s sport, live with it!
Anticipation becomes more of a factor the faster you run. I spent twelve years concentrating on track sprinting, with the 100 metres my most successful distance. Regardless of your level of sight, reaction times are vital, how fast you come out of the blocks can be the difference between winning and losing. I was always among the fastest starters in groups I would train with, beating people to the 30 metre mark even though they’d run the 100 metres in 11 seconds, whilst my personal best was 12.5. When I would run 200 metre races people standing at the finish line would sometimes be concerned I had false started as to them, I would move between seeing the smoke and hearing the gun: I managed to master the art of going on the B of bang. With this in mind, I am able to run fast, safe in the knowledge that I will respond, even if a warning is late.
When writing about Tadworth Ten recently, I made reference to the challenging ground conditions. This race was a perfect example of where the runner/guide relationship working well results in a strong performance. There were stretches of off road with many a bump in the ground where a sighted person could break an ankle if they weren’t concentrating. Where we ran on road, it was mostly down hill, and pretty steep. Jim, my guide on that occasion would later comment that my running was either courageous or foolhardy. Truth be told, it was probably a bit of both, but I’m only ever going to try something like that if I have faith that the person I’m attached to can take action if needed. In the case of Tadworth, had I been running with a lesser guide, or someone I wasn’t used to, my time would have been significantly slower.
How much information I like to be given does depend on the situation. There’s the minimum, curbs, tree roots, people and so on, but in a race situation I may ask the guide to tell me things which might help when fatigue becomes an issue.
“There are ten people ahead and I believe we can catch them,” they might say. This is a judgement I’m unable to make but is exactly the sort of thing which I would use to drive me on. There remains a sprinter hiding inside me and my competitiveness means I get a kick out of the knowledge I’m picking people off.
Sometimes, no matter the amount of information I’m given, not being able to focus on a target, or look at what’s around me, can be a challenge. The moment when fighting fatigue is when this becomes an issue. As the body and brain gets tired, thoughts lurking in my subconscious take over, think of it as like daydreaming in boring meetings, or thoughts keeping you awake at night. Often this takes the form of songs going round and round my head; frustratingly they’re usually ones I hate. I hope by writing about ones I like which I’m associating with running, or the London Marathon, might mean the likes of
Fall Out Boy and
The Script can be replaced with some decent stuff at my mental hour of need.
It’s said boxers go to some dark places in the mind when pushing themselves to the limit and beyond. I’m no psychologist, but I do know that if I feel I’m not running well, this thought can easily get tangled up with any other negative ones which might be lerking in my subconscious. Of course this can happen to anyone, and dealing with this is all part of toughing it out, a challenge I’d like to think I rise to. A word from the guide about how they think I’m running, a comment about who is around us or an update on mile splits and the brain is focused on the job again.
Whether being able to admire the scenery would make a difference to this mind wandering I can’t say, I’m sure were I watching out for obstacles this concentration would keep me occupied. Alternatively I’d be brought back to reality with a bump by running into a tree. All together now:
“George George George of the jungle, strong as he can be!”
(Photo taken by Nigel Rothwell of The Stragglers)
