The Emotional Journey of Running for a Cause
Author: Chris Carra
Running is a pleasure, whether for fun, fitness, or competition. There’s something truly liberating about lacing up your shoes and hitting the pavement.
But running for a cause can elevate that pleasure into something even more powerful. That was certainly my experience when I took on my first charity race a few years ago.
Running for a Cause
In July 2019, my daughter was born six weeks early. Her unexpected arrival was not only a shock but a concern. At just over 4lbs, she needed to stay in the neonatal unit (NICU) at Singleton Hospital in Swansea, Wales, for two weeks.
Around the same time, I had scheduled to run the INVNCBL multi-terrain race in Pembrey. Of course, those plans were swiftly cancelled. I was now the unprepared parent of a premature baby. Fortunately, the organisers allowed me to change my entry to the Cardiff race later in the year, meaning I could still run.
First-Time Fundraising
I’d originally entered the race for fun, but it made sense to turn it into a fundraising opportunity. Raising money for the NICU at Singleton Hospital felt like the natural choice.
It was my first attempt at fundraising, and I was surprised to find that it was incredibly straightforward. I set up an online donations page and spread the word through sending people messages and sharing on social media.
People including friends, family and even complete strangers, were only too happy to support the cause. The unexpected kindness was humbling. Within a few weeks, I’d raised £710 for the NICU. The only thing left to do was race.
Race Day
On race day, I travelled from my home in Swansea to Cardiff, where the event was taking place.
I was more nervous than I expected. I wasn’t just running for myself anymore. This feat was being undertaken for the crucial neonatal unit, the kind people who had donated, and my daughter.
It wasn’t your typical running event, but a hilly 10 km trail race packed with obstacles, from tyre carries to wall climbs, with everything caked in mud and manure from nearby farms. I had my good friend Steve running by my side to keep me company.
Finding The Rhythm
When the race got underway, we were at the back of the elite wave, trudging through thick mud, tackling steep hills and scaling slippery walls for the first three kilometres. It was fun, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t running to my full potential.
While Steve was an experienced runner, it became clear that obstacles weren’t his strength. As the minutes passed, I found myself picking up pace. Every time I looked back, Steve was slipping further behind.
Do I stay with my friend? Or do I go for it? I was running for a cause, and this gave me clarity. I wanted to place as highly as I could; to give my donors value for their support, I felt the weight of this heavily on my shoulders. I needed to go for it.
I gave a final look back, then turned and sped up.
Pushing Through
Having spent the first 15 minutes of the race at a walking pace, I had almost a full tank of energy. I let loose: sprinting sections, overtaking other runners, diving into ponds, crawling under barbed-wire nets, and wiping manure from my mouth. I felt unstoppable.
But as the hour mark passed, I realised I was completely alone.
Nobody in front of me and nobody behind. For a moment, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn, but a steward in the distance confirmed I was still on the right path.
Reaching The Finish Line
Climbing the final muddy hill, the buzz of the race village grew louder. Rounding the last corner, a large climbing net stood between me and the finish line. With no other runners in sight, I asked a steward, “What position am I in?”
“You’re in second,” he said.
Astonishing. I couldn’t believe it. Seconds later, I crossed the finish line in second place. I hadn’t expected to finish in the top ten, let alone take silver.
Someone handed me a medal and a beer, and I stood there at the finish line, waiting for Steve. As I caught my breath, the enormity of the moment hit me: I’d raised hundreds of pounds for a cause close to my heart and somehow placed second in the process.
This is when I realised there was a tear in my eye.
Around 15 minutes later, Steve crossed the finish line. I apologised for leaving him earlier in the race, but he’d had an eventful run and was celebrating my podium finish.
Reflecting After The Race
When I got home, the first thing I did was give my medal to my three-month-old daughter. A few days later, I proudly handed over a cheque for £710 to the NICU staff at the hospital, which was an incredible moment. That was my first encounter with a giant novelty cheque – and I promised myself it wouldn’t be my last.
Now, I have my eye on a longer-distance race in the not-too-distant future. Perhaps easing in with a local 10K, or even the Cardiff Half Marathon or the Wales Half Marathon in Pembrokeshire. Being based in Swansea, these runs are relatively local to me, which is always helpful come race day.
Wherever I run, this time I would likely do it for a different but equally worthwhile cause, such as Macmillan, and aim to raise even more money.
Naturally, I’d love to take on another obstacle race too, although my memories of tasting manure may take a little longer to shake…
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Author Bio
Chris Carra is a writer from Swansea who has extensive experience in running, resistance training, nutrition, plant-based living, and recovery. He has written about fitness and wellbeing for publications including Men’s Health, Men’s Fitness, and Vegan Food & Living.
