Adam Quinn: Running has always been with me

We share some thoughts from Adam Quinn, a runner based in Cornwall. He shows that through lifes highs and lows, running has always been with him.

“As I made my way back to Carne Beach on the Roseland, descending from the dizzying heights of Nare Head and experiencing a strange new (genuine!) thirst coupled with a terrifying desire for the nearest available foodstuff, I knew this was for me. ”

Watching ‘Super Saturday’ at the London Olympics in 2012 had me swept up in emotion. It felt like a nervous energy was emanating from my stomach - inspiration, I guess. This was what I would do. Just like Mo, I would dedicate myself to training hard. And with all that hard graft I may not become an Olympian, but I surely couldn’t be an alcoholic anymore. I remember making this decision as I walked along sun-baked terraced houses to the off licence on the corner of my street. Tomorrow I would turn the page.

I didn’t, in the end, and for a few more years yet running was to be nothing more than my preferred method of transporting home stolen bottles of cider. It wasn’t until moving to Cornwall with my partner Jess in late 2016 that that feeling of inspiration was to come again - and this time to stick. As I made my way back to Carne Beach on the Roseland, descending from the dizzying heights of Nare Head and experiencing a strange new (genuine!) thirst coupled with a terrifying desire for the nearest available foodstuff, I knew this was for me. Every part of my lower body ached in a way I’d never felt before, and all I could think about was when I could get back to do it again.

In the intervening years I’d managed to get sober back home in Ireland, with the help of a Nun-run rehab in which running was banned, funnily enough. (Too close to the offies, you see). After reading ‘Born to Run’ - like everybody else - I started to run once or twice a week, but it was something I could take or leave. Marathons, Ultra marathons, and stories about them certainly fired an interest in me - but it all seemed a bit unobtainable. But when I got to Nare Head that day, gasping for breath and simply thrilled to be communing with the sea like this, I saw around the headland and all I wanted to do was go on. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and it’s stuck with me since.

St Agnes, Cornwall. Home of the KVK trail running race, hosted by Freedom Racing. Photo: Conan Marshall — St Agnes, Cornwall. Home of the KVK trail running race, hosted by Freedom Racing. *Photo: Conan Marshall*

My friend Tom seemed pretty normal, and he’d run the London Marathon - maybe I could do it. He put me on to Freedom Racing, and I promptly signed up for the 2017 KVK. My training ‘plan’ involved some classic methods, such as ‘run a 5k PB every day’ and ‘run everything at 7min miles’. As race day approached, I read everything I could on trail and ultra racing, carried away with my new obsession. I now had a sound knowledge on what to eat before embarking on a run of this length, and on the morning of the race I set about eating just about everything I’d read about. This backfired, and when heading up to the Beacon for the second time, I had to rely on the kindness of a St Agnes resident to save me from carrying on a couple of socks lighter.

Come to think of it, I’ve had an awful lot of experience of things going awry. Stepping up to race the Arc of Attrition a couple of years after that run at Nare Head, I spent the last 50-odd miles creating my own coast path diversions, and with failing vision due to a lack of food and water. More recently, this August at the Irish Mountain Running Long Distance Trials I went in feeling fitter than ever and confident of competing well. I finished 10km from the finish seized up with cramps, wondering if I’d ever find a hobby that didn’t involve dry retching. Near enough every goal I’ve set, I haven’t yet reached. But I’ve gained more than I could ever have imagined.

Growing up in Belfast, I could see hills all along the western skyline, but it never occurred to me to go up there - and not just because of the territory you’d have to cross. The Cornish coast path just spoke to me, and still does. The joy of rounding that first headland and unlocking a new perspective, that desire to move forward and keep exploring, have been with me ever since that first run on the Roseland four years ago. And I’m really grateful for that. Running has always been with me, in a way.