I am a slow, now-and-then runner, and ran a marathon when I was thirty – mainly to see if I could. Sixteen years later, and I am still a slow, now-and-then runner, but this time round my legs are quite a lot creakier, and so I’m taking the preparations a bit more seriously. I even downloaded a training plan! (Of course, downloading a training plan is the easy bit, as it only takes one click of a mouse finger; it’s the weekly miles in the winter drizzle that are the tough bit).
Around the time I ran the Nottingham marathon, I was living as a residential support worker for a house of young unaccompanied asylum seekers; young men of around 16, 17, mostly from Afghanistan or elsewhere in the Middle East. They had fled war zones, terrorism, and illegal occupation.
Although I only worked in that role for a couple of years, it made a big impression on me, and I’ve often wondered what happened to some of the lads I lived with. I remember quite clearly how scared many of them were about falling off the edge of the support system that I was a part of: either by becoming too old to be entitled to support, or by coming to the end of the asylum process. Some of those boys were successful in their asylum claims; others were deported (or fearing that they would be, went missing). I often remember how much they each tried to live their lives well, despite the confusing and often frustrating situation they found themselves in.
People who have been forced to flee their homes and seek sanctuary in the UK are often faced with destitution and hostility. (Sometimes they are even forced to live with lazy philosophers). I’ll be remembering my time with them as I train for the 2025 London Marathon.
Through my work at London Jesuit Centre, I came into contact with the Jesuit Refugee Service UK, and so when I heard that they have a marathon team, I was very tempted to apply: as a way to support their work, but also as a way to challenge myself physically. But I was slightly daunted when I heard I actually had a place on that team! The challenge for me now is to do enough miles each week without giving myself an injury, on legs that are more used to being comfortably rested on my desk—whilst my brain does the hard work of reading philosophy—than they are to pounding the pavements for hours or pushing me up muddy hills in the woods.
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