What the Bleep?!

Mentions of the 'B' word are usually met with groans, vomit stories and relief that, after leaving school, you'll quite possibly never have to face the Bleep Test again. But, actually, I secretly quite enjoyed them.

I was pretty average at school sports, my parents were never very sporty so I didn't expect to be so myself. No one thought of me as particularly active and, although I was on the school hockey team, I was quite likely the weakest link – hidden at the back to fill space. None of this really mattered to me, though. I still enjoyed the time we were given to escape scrawling at desks and I'd always try hard but accepted I would never be that good.

Thinking back to the bleep test, though, I remember being in the last handful, still going and feeling thoroughly confused that I was running with the "fit" people. It was brilliant to be in that little group whilst still feeling like I could go on forever but then my teenage insecurities kicked in and I decided that I clearly didn't belong in this elite group – I retired with fuel in the tank and watched as the rest of the group eventually keeled over.

I'm not jealous of those that collapsed on the floor in a nauseated pile next to their guts but I am disappointed I didn't have the confidence to carry on and see just how far I could go. There's nothing I can do about the past, however, so I must look to the future. Now I'm older and wiser and braver (perhaps, read "more stupid"), I'm not worried about my place amongst others but rather what I can do, so I've signed myself up for something that, again, may trigger groans and vomit stories and relief that others don't have to take part. Next year I plan to do my first ultramarathon – 35 miles round the beautiful Scottish Isle of Tiree. It's something I never thought I'd even think of doing but that doesn't meant I can't do it. I might not be the fastest or the strongest runner but that doesn't mean I don't deserve to give it a go.