I am a marathon runner – it is my super power

The world is changing and we have to change with it. If my job is the only thing I will lose during the coronavirus crisis I will indeed be happy. I’m more worried for friends and family – stay safe, please! This post is a tad bit personal and not so much about motorcycles, however motorcycles were what made me pack up and leave a secure and settled life in Sweden for the greater uncertainty of being an immigrant in a country where I could ride my bike every day throughout the year. We all make our choices and I live with mine, this is not to complain, rather to share my experience of two different crises, the Brexit vote and the coronavirus, on a personal level.

Our bikes outside our last house share in London, just before we left for good.

In June 2016 we left London. After spending nearly two years there, we packed and stored away our five boxes and went camping in Wales. Summer was going to be spent travelling and seeing friends and family and then we had our goal set for Japan. With my new English teaching certificate in hand, we were going to spend a few years there teaching and travelling. That did not happen. In our tent in Wales we read about the Brexit referendum and the horrible – and for us, totally unexpected – outcome. How would that affect us as a Swedish-British couple with plans of living and teaching in different countries both outside and within the EU? Impossible to foresee of course, but we needed time to think, some breathing space.

We were very excited when we finally reached the border to Scotland.
Up north we go, to contemplate our future.

When summer ended we were still travelling. I had covered large parts of Europe including the WIMA rally in Hungary. I had been camping and staying with friends and family but now it was time for us to reunite. As we went north up to Scotland, we were accepting that Japan was not going to happen this time. The future seemed too unsure and we aimed to go back to Spain instead, fearing that if we waited Christopher would not be able to. With Brexit done, he would not be able to benefit from European free movement. We had always imagined that Spain would be the place where we would settle, after living and experiencing other countries, it was going to be our place to grow old. Now we needed a change in mindset and a plan. We were fortunate to be able to housesit in England during autumn and halfway through winter, as Christopher took his driving licence for motorcycle with a local driving school. In January 2017 I took the ferry from Portsmouth to Santander and rode to Barcelona. Christopher followed by plane. The first month we stayed in hostels, renting bunkbeds to keep things cheap and looked for jobs. When I got my first teaching position we rented a room through AirBnB – the atmosphere in cheap hostels isn’t great if you want to be able to plan lessons and need good solid sleep. I was equally happy getting my first job as leaving it, I learned the hard way how horrible the working conditions can be in English academies and how poorly the teachers are sometimes treated. I moved on, found some different jobs, teaching at 3-4 different places trying to make ends meet on a very saturated market.

Out riding in Catalunya, there is so much to explore around here, all year round.

From this, I learned what I like and what I want and then I found a job which would allow me to take own responsibility in my classroom and grow as a teacher. I learned new skills and adapted my English teaching methods with my preschool teaching pedagogics – I am now teaching Swedish to all ages, which is so cool!

A month ago, we were literally on the verge of buying a flat here in our little village, feeling that we had finally come to a point when we both felt like we had found a place we want to call home and feel that we are well enough sustained to go ahead. We were looking at possible flats, and even a garage, hoping to be able to send for our 11 boxes that we had stored away five years ago when we left Madrid. The following week, Spain went into full lockdown and we were not able to even go out for a walk.

While I still have my job, but with reduced hours, the state of the global economy will hit businesses hard, especially companies that deal with the movement of people in Europe, and I have to be prepared for the worst. I need a Plan B and this time travelling is not an option.

This beach is 2 minutes from our flat and I walk along it everyday on my way to work.

How should I go on from this? The possibilities are endless if one wants to see it like that, but the risks are great as well. Should we stay here in this little village with hardly any employment possibilities within my field, or should we try and find another place to settle. I’m honestly tired of living in my bags and I would like to get my stuff; my books, my grandma’s plates, our Murano wine glasses and the quilted bedcover that my mum made for us.  This village is not perfect, but it has a lot of what I ask from a place to live, a friendly community, decent weather all year round and accessibility to culture as both Tarragona and Barcelona are within easy reach. I love running along the beach and going for a swim in the sea every weekend. I love our Friday tapas rounds and our weekly morning coffee reading poetry. My heart wants to stay but my mind says it might not be practical. I’m exploring possibilities for work and studies online. The options are many, should I educate myself further as a teacher of Swedish as a second language, although the market here is very small here for Swedish teachers, or should I continue my studies in English linguistics and enrol for a masters course. Should I start teaching English online? There seems to be a constant demand for online-teachers in China, but the paperwork is complicated in Spain. Or should I consider a permanent change or a temporary fixture? I work until mid-June, at the end of June our rental contract runs out – then we need to move on, both physically and mentally.

Pintxo Pote – the local Friday tapas event.

Nothing is ever impossible, but it might take longer than one would think, or even like. I’m a marathon runner and I have learned that half of the effort is mental, and that the strategy is to take things in small steps and create partial goals. When 42km is divided into legs of 5km, then it is only 8 parkruns and a bit to go until the finish line – and a parkrun is no problem to complete, right? My body might not be able to run marathons anymore, but my marathon mind-set is with me every day. As soon as I have decided my goal I will work towards it in small steps.

Finishing the Lisbon Marathon with Anneli.

Parkrun tourism, part 2: England

I can admit immediately that my initial plan to follow up on my Parkrun streak from Ireland with three Parkruns in England failed. There was no way I could get up and pack my tent at the break of dawn after a busy WIMA rally and farewell dinner followed by a rock concert by Thor, the gods of rock (that is what they call themselves, and I’m inclined to agree).

The first weekend in England we headed into Stoke-on-Trent and Hanley Park. Parking possibilities there were excellent and the park offered a challenging and rather complicated combination of loops before the beautiful home straight by the pavilion. But before we got started, the Parkrun organisers had to deal with a medical emergency and an ambulance was called in. Someone had collapsed and needed medical attention, which the team saw to with impressive professionalism. With a mere 20 minute delay, the rest of us were sent off running.

After the rather small Parkruns in Ireland, this one felt gigantic, probably about 250 runners. We did not stay for Parkrun coffee, instead we returned home to Christopher’s parents for a brunch consisting of rice and stirfried veggies that his mum prepared, yum yum.

The last Parkrun, in Ludmoor Park, Weymouth, was one I had looked forward to for a long time as my friend Sheonagh was going to join me. I’ve done this Parkrun a few times before when I was house-sitting and she was away riding motorbikes in Africa, but we had never done it together before. In the three years since I last ran, there the gathering had grown to a shade over 400 hundred runners and we all set off like a colourful snake through the park. I think this is the largest Parkrun I have attended.

Before.
After.
After.

For this outing I had swapped my motorbike for an e-bicycle. After the run, we returned home for coffee and toast with homemade marmalade in the garden. Then off to the beach. A grand finale for my Parkrun tourism!

Next time will be with my Sudbury Court mates in December when Christopher and I are going to London for a cultural weekend.

Parkrun tourism, part 1: Ireland

“Are you going to take part?” the man asked me rhetorically as I parked my motorbike near the Parkrun start and finish. He was happily surprised when I responded, “Yes! I’m just going to get changed”. Off with boots, trousers, jacket, gloves and helmet and on with my Vivo Barefoot shoes, running watch and cap. When all my motorbike gear was packed away and secured on my bike, I was ready to start. Ride and Run, yeah!

Parkrun tourism is a great way to interact with the local running communities while running in some new and interesting places. All our Saturdays were planned so that I could run a new Parkrun.

First out was Tullow Parkrun near the Wicklow Mountains. Their Parkrun is a two lap course in Rathwood Rath nature park near a garden centre where you could eat full Irish breakfast to the price of two for one afterwards. The run itself was an enjoyable, flat course in the forest and around a pond, overall on a rather soft, pleasant surface and the breakfast got full points.

Taking off at Tallow Park Run
Taking off, barcode in hand.
No, I have not started to eat bacon and black pudding all of a sudden, this is Christopher’s breakfast.

The following Saturday we were on the south coast camping at Eagle’s Point. We had just waited out a horrible storm and the weather for Saturday’s Parkrun at Glengarriff Nature Reserve was excellent. The course was a figure of 8 on a mixed surface, some excellent soft trail but also some rather harsh tarmac. It was a rather challenging course with one super long hill but I made a point of running all the way, albeit very slowly at points. This Parkrun had no feasible breakfast place so we continued over the mountain and the Caha Pass and on to Kenmare for a full Irish, but not before I’d had a splash in the river to freshen up. So, full points for the location, the route was very scenic and the river refreshing. This was my overall favourite among the three Parkruns I participated in.

My favourite stretch of this Parkrun.
I can’t think of a better place for a run.

The third and last Parkrun in Ireland, Clonmel, was the most sociable one. They might be disappointed to see that their Swedish Parkrun tourist from Spain actually is registered with Sudbury Court Running Club in London. Well, it is the running club in my heart and it is difficult to let go. The course was a temporary one, normally they run on the perimeter of the horseracing track, but the substitute was a delightful 2.5k along the River Suir and back again.

Sprint to the finish.