A lesson in humility #2
‘What about you? Hope said that you’re one of the best runners in the group.’
‘Hardly. I like to run and do it often, so I’m used to it, but I’m not fast.’
‘So, you’re saying that if Charlie is the hare, you’re the tortoise?’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Bethan, giggling. ‘So, why did you decide to join the group? Everyone here’s got a story, you know. Even Charlie, as unlikely as it seems.’
‘Yeah? Umm, well,’ said Max, not feeling comfortable sharing the last eighteen months of his life, the heartbreak of losing his parents, and the devastation it had caused with a stranger just yet. ‘I’m just here to try and get in shape, that’s all.’
‘Good for you,’ replied Bethan, who was pulling one leg up behind her, and then the other, while balancing on one leg. Max did the same.
‘What about you? Do you have a story?’ he asked, and her face changed for a moment, hinting at something serious lurking beneath the surface.
It was the same expression that Max was sure he had himself.
Had Bethan lost someone close to her too?
She said that everyone there had a story, even Charlie, so perhaps despite everyone appearing to be quite normal, they all had their own heartache?
Their own versions of what he had been going through.
He couldn’t imagine someone as bright and as energetic as Hope having major mental health issues, but then again, they might think the same of him.
However, before Bethan could answer, Hope called out that it was time to start running.
It was the thing Max was looking forward to the least. The last time he had gone for a jog was just before the accident, and so the minute he started slowly jogging with everyone else, it immediately felt quite alien.
He knew he was going to get tired, and wouldn’t be able to run for longer than ten minutes without having to stop.
As soon as they began, Charlie was off ahead of everyone else with tall, long strides, and to be fair, he looked the part.
Bethan set off with Eve, as they were going about the same speed, and Joe and Anita seemed to be on the same pace.
Hope hung back and jogged slowly next to Max.
‘How you going, Max?’
‘It’s been quite a while since my last run. Sorry if I don’t last very long.’
‘No worries. Every journey, right?’
‘Right.’
‘And just so you know, don’t feel like you have to sign-up for the Clapham Half. It’s just something we all decided to do, you know, to have a goal, but it’s one hundred per cent up to you. No stress.’
‘Can I think about it?’ said Max, beginning to puff. He could already feel the burn in his legs, and his heart that was probably in shock, beginning to beat rapidly.
‘Yeah, course, mate. No worries.’
‘Bethan said before that everyone here has a story. Is that true?’
‘She’s not wrong. It’s one part run club, one part therapy.’
‘Is that why you started it?’
Max and Hope slowly ran beside each other, as they made their way along the pathway that snaked through Clapham Common. As they ran, Hope looked across at Max.
‘I almost died, Max. I was a raging alcoholic in my twenties. I’m still an alcoholic, that doesn’t ever bloody leave you, and I’ve been going to AA for years now.’
‘Oh, right, shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘No, no, it’s all right. No worries. I was at my lowest ebb when I found running.
It literally saved my life, and I wanted to share that with other people.
There’s just something about exercise and community that changes us, you know?
So yeah, people tend to have a story, and maybe in time, they’ll all share their stories with you, and maybe one day, you’ll share yours with us. Whatever it is.’
‘What makes you think I have a story?’ asked Max, and when he looked at Hope, she smiled.
‘Everyone’s got a story. Some are worse than others, bigger than others, they’re all different, but we’ve all got one,’ said Hope, and they kept running, stepping one foot in front of the other, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said.
Everyone’s got a story. He would never have imagined her being an alcoholic.
She seemed so fit, so happy and energised by life, and yet she had almost died.
Max wasn’t ready to share what had happened to him yet, but he was eager to hear all their stories.
Bethan, Charlie, Joe, Anita and Eve, they all had their own heartache, their own pain, and they were out there on Clapham Common, trying their best to run it off.
For the first time since he had seen the flyer at the coffee shop, Max was excited about the possibilities of Common People.
Maybe it was just what he needed to move on.
He felt his legs getting a little stronger as the pace picked up.
He was inspired by everyone around him, especially Hope.
Maybe he could do this. Perhaps he was a runner, after all.
Thirty minutes later …
‘There you go, mate, get it all up!’ said Charlie, patting Max heavily on his back, as he puked up into the grass by the side of the pathway, as everyone else in the group watched on with varying degrees of horror. ‘This is the sort of growth I was talking about. Good bloke!’
‘Sorry, I don’t know what happened,’ mumbled Max, coming up for air, before he felt his stomach convulse again, and he vomited all over the grass in front of everyone.