Race Report: Mo-Running

WHAT:  10k run

WHEN:  30th November 2013

WHERE:  Greenwich Park, London

In late Autumn, a strange phenomenon occurs. The top lips of men (and a few women) become hidden behind a fuzz of hair that is combed, twisted and trimmed into shape. For thirty days, faces are decorated with handlebars, pencils and magnums, all in the name of Movember by way of raising funds and awareness of men's health issues. A mustachioed team is created during November, each member with his groomed uniform proudly displayed, supporting each other through the growing itchiness and styling dilemmas.

Photo from Mo Running

It is this type of knowing support that makes the running community special. As with growing a moustache for a month, running looks like a ridiculous idea to those who don't partake - it can be uncomfortable, you often look silly and it takes dedication. And within this community, whether you're braving your first run or beasting your tenth marathon, you'll have someone cheering you on that respects and 'gets' what you're doing. So it comes as no surprise to me that runners have embraced this occasion and organised races to support all the Mo Bros. 

Photo from Mo Running

There were eleven Mo Running events in the UK this year, each with a barrage of participants dressed in moustashes (real or otherwise) ready to take on either a 5 or 10k course. After a few weeks of injury induced rest, I happened to choose one of the hilliest locations. But whilst the Greenwich Park hills were almost tear inducing, it was also quite a pretty course – lots of wide open greenery and a peek at the Cutty Sark, plus one or two bemused runners training against the flow of extra-hairy runners. But despite all of this to distract me, when your shins shout pain at you before you've even crossed the start line, those 10 kilometres are going to feel long and hard.

And that, my friends, is why I chose to join a group of running buddies for the race. The marshals' shouts of encouragement were uplifting and even made me giggle on the way round but nothing could have got me up those hills other than fellow runners who were going through the same leg burn. No one could've dragged me round the second lap (once I knew about those killer hills) other than someone that understands why I'm doing it in the first place. My cheer crew were so good, they even pulled a few struggling strangers up the final elevation and across the finish line.

Hopefully now the injury is falling behind me – and after a lot of much needed hill training – I won't need so much persuasion round the next race course. But if I ever need it, even without friends by my side, I know there'll be someone in the pack to encourage me through the worst.