As I started the final climb of the tortuous, hilly, 13.1 mile route towards the finish line I started to become overcome with emotion, tears started to form in my eyes and thoughts flooded my head.
Over the past 3 hours and 20 minutes I’d been on a roller coaster emotional journey no less intense than that of the past 12 months.
Late in 2014 I returned to the town in Germany where I was stationed with the Royal Air Force for the first time in 30 years for a reunion with the guys that I’d served with as a fresh faced 18 year old.
At the time I weighed 23 stone (146 kg/322 lbs), my body, organs and face wrapped in a layer of fat that limited my ability to do anything.
A small knee injury was exacerbated by my weight and become a limp, it was impossible for me to run and even to walk at anything other than a slow stroll.
When I look back at the pictures of me from that period I’m shocked that I had got so bad.
I’m now aware that in the 15 years leading up to that moment that I had developed an unhealthy relationship with food.
I’d struggled my whole life with gender dysphoria, depression, suicidal feelings and self harm. As a teenager in Germany with the RAF I constantly carried a razor blade in my wallet with which to self harm, as a 40 something parent with responsibilities I chose food to do the damage.
Eating disorders are often the self destructive behaviour of choice for carers, unlike drink or drugs it still allows you to function, working and caring for your family.
In January 2015 I realised the depth of my mental health issues, I faced up to my lifelong gender dysphoria, the feeling that I was living in the wrong gender, and began to combat my depression and self loathing.
This led to a new found, and previously unknown, love and respect for myself. I began eating more healthily, as the weight started to drop I once again became able to exercise and within 6 months I’d lost 5 stone (32 kg/70 lbs).
My weight loss became evident for all to see, it was so dramatic that some people even thought that I was ill but hadn’t told anyone, little did they know that this was part of the process of finally making me better.
In July I came out to the world as transgender and transitioned from Steve to Sophie, ending a lifetime of self hate and self harm.
During this period I began to run more and more, enjoying the freedom of my daily run along the Brighton seafront from my home in Hove to the Palace Pier. 3 miles run down there, grab a cup of tea from one of the seafront cafes and walk home, and all before 8am.
As it became easier I began to stretch the runs, if I felt good at the pier I’d continue along the beach to the Marina, stretching it to 5 miles.
Then I was struck by one of my “whatif” feelings, the moments when I suddenly challenge myself a little more that normally appear in my head totally out of the blue.
It was late October and I’d done a 5 mile run on the Monday that felt great, at the end I still had plenty of energy and was sure that I could have gone further.
So two days later when I set off at 5am for a run I suddenly decided, hell I might as well do 10 miles today. This run wasn’t easy but it was very doable, to tell the truth it didn’t feel that different from the 5 miles, it just took longer.
On the Sunday I decided to do another 10 miles and again felt great at the end of it.
It’s at this point that my next attack of “whatif” occured.
“Hang about” I said to myself, “I’m doing these 10 mile runs and they’re going well, it’s great but I think I can achieve more.”
“It’s only another 3 miles and I’d be doing a half marathon, and that’s a big deal!”
I immediately went on the internet, desperately searching for a half marathon that fitted around my job in professional football and that still had their entry list open. Only one race fitted my criteria before the new year but it was only 11 days away!
And so we get to the morning of the A20 Paths ‘n’ Downs half marathon in Maidstone, Kent.
Up at 5am, after only 5 hours sleep due to a full day at a conference in London the day before, for the hour and halves drive to the start.
When I arrived at the hotel that served as race HQ I was surrounded by people that looked like they knew what they were doing — running club members, with their club tops and equipment belts and there was me, the newcomer for their first race.
As the start of the race was along a single track path I set off right at the back of the field, I really didn’t want to be the one that everyone had to divert through the stinging nettles to get past.
Being a Brighton resident who does all of their running on the seafront I was ready for the wind but the hills totally took me by surprise. The first six miles became an arduous climb as we headed further and further into the South Downs, climbing 900 feet including some slopes that I struggled to walk up let alone run up.
Tracking my progress on a GPS app on my phone I was in great form as I passed the halfway point, knowing that the worst of the course must be behind me and that it must surely all be downhill from here.
I managed to lengthen my stride on the downhill sections and felt like I was flying, the exhilaration of speed fuelling my energy.
I’d set myself a target of 3 hours and 30 minutes but as my satnav indicated the 10 mile point in 2 hours 20 minutes I began to think that a 3 hour time could be possible.
Joy and energy swept through my body as I revelled in this amazing possibility, it spurred me on and helped me to overcome the pain and fatigue.
As I passed 2 hours 40 minutes my sat nav was telling me that I’d done 11.3 miles, less than two miles to go and 20 minutes to cover it.
I was tired but the sheer joy in this achievement was driving me on.
Then just 5 minutes later my world came crashing down around my ears, my heart sank as I passed a course marker for the 11 mile point.
What? No! My sat nav said I’d done 12 miles, this can’t be, there was no way I’d make 3 hours now!
The energy drained out of me, I felt like I could cry, I just wanted to sit down and go to sleep. The old negative thought patterns took hold and began to play at my resolve.
As I passed a railway line I saw a sign saying “Do not go on the railway line,” all I could think of was the idea of climbing onto the line, lying down and going to sleep, the tiredness and pain would go away.
I struggled on, all the while thinking “this is so hard, this is so hard,” pain, fatigue and despair flooding my body and mind, chipping away at my determination and resolve to finish.
And then I caught myself.
“No, this is not hard, this is easy.”
This.
Is.
Easy.
I moved my eyes from the piece of tarmac directly in front of my feet and focused on the end of the road. I developed tunnel vision, my eyes purely on the goal, the next turn, the crest of the next hill and I carried on.
As I began the final climb to the finish line and saw it, enticing and so welcome, like a shipwreck survivor catching glimpse of the rescue boat, I became overwhelmed with emotion.
Tears began to build in my eyes as I thought about the journey that I’d been on in my life and in particular over the previous 12 months.
This wasn’t one of the big headline runs with hundreds of people cheering at the finish line but the dozen or so people that cheered me home were so gratefully received, I was a stranger but they supported me none the less.
The relief as I passed the line swept me away and I broke down in tears, knowing that this was another step on my journey to fulfilment and self realisation.
All of the thoughts and feelings that you’ve just read, flashed through my mind and I decided to record them on video, but alas, sometimes extreme emotions and coherent speech don’t always go together, see what you think.
I’m very proud of what I’ve achieved over the past 12 months, finally starting on a path to healing my many psychological wounds and the running is just one more tool that I use to achieve this.
It’s unleashed a new demon in me know though, one that needs to be fed and to that end I’m constantly searching for more half marathons to compete in addition to my place in the Brighton (full) Marathon next April, who knows I might even start looking like I know what I’m doing.