Learning to say no

From trying to be the hero, to talking on the radio, there comes a point where you just have to give yourself a day off

Taking a rest in Donegal

My whole career, I might even say my whole life, has been characterised by a willingness to say “yes” to everything. That’s good, right? Be positive, go for it, no fear, just do it. Go and run with the Kenyans, the fastest runners in the world? No problem. Take your young family 9,000 miles across the world on a train to live in Japan? I’m on it. Run a 100-mile race around Mont Blanc? Sure thing.

I guess the first time I hit the buffers for real, the first challenge where I finally said no, was the Self Transcendence 3100 - the 3,100-mile race around the block in New York. Of course that was partly because I didn’t qualify, but really, I could have gone back and tried again. With enough perseverance, I could have done it, I’m sure. But inside, to myself, I said no. I just really didn’t want to. 

I know I still went and did something huge, running 1,400 miles around Ireland, but within that, there were moments where I gave myself a break, where I realised a road was too dangerous, or my body was too weak, and I jumped in the van. Saying no, cutting myself some slack, wasn’t a weakness. It wasn’t quitting. It was liberating. I didn’t have to be the hero. As I said to myself many times while running around Ireland: “I’m not Hardest Geezer.” Hardest Geezer, aka Russ Cook, is the guy who ran across Africa despite getting ill, being kidnapped etc etc. Nothing could stop Hardest Geezer!

Someone in Ireland joked that I was “Hard-ish Geezer”. Hah. Running almost a marathon a day is pretty hard, sure, but sometimes I’d run less if I wanted, or if the road was a bit dicey, and I’d stop regularly for coffee and cake along the way.