Why running is one of life's good things....

HOW do you know your limit? In sport, depending on your commitment, you are pushing your body to its extreme, sometimes until you are physically sick, hands on your knees, retching with exhaustion.

In life, when you are constantly being challenged both mentally and physically each day, how do you know your limit or when you have reached the edge?

Life is tough right now, bloody tough. Survival is about taking small steps and toasting the successes; never looking back but trying to always look forward. There have been times this past week when my limit has been teetering in the red zone; that awful feeling of claustrophobia, panic and overwhelming anxiety.

But as each day passes, the dial moves away from the red zone. That infernal sickening knot in the stomach slowly disappears as every small step is made, each single success is toasted and cherished.

Last night I decided to put my mind to a gruelling speed training session; 10 sets of two minutes' hard running at 80% to 100% effort, with 30 seconds' interval between each set. The backdrop was Eastbourne's Western Lawns overlooking the English Channel at low tide, and a grassy 250 metre circuit marked by cones with darkness descending on a cool September evening.

These Wednesday night sessions are amazingly popular, the diversity of standard was huge, with the whippets at the front tearing around the dew-sodden grass lapping slower ladies at the back who were putting in an equal amount of effort.

Running is such a confidence thing. When you are running well your heels lift off the ground like a horse setting off at a canter, your legs feel strong and your body relaxed - minimal effort for maximum speed like a well-tuned car burning up a track.

But when your mind is a mess and insecurities gnaw deep in your brain, this has such a major impact on your running. The smallest of climbs becomes an Everest-like challenge, the lethargy in your body as the miles tick by becomes grossly exaggerated as your mind wills you to stop and give up.

Psychology is such an important part of a runners' make-up; we're not talking about championship running, but those who push their bodies to their physical and mental limit. Frequently in races and in training, you use a mental strategy to get you through; some stay focused to stick in the zone, others use distraction therapy. I count my strides when I go up a hill, trying to listen to the cadence of my steps so they synchronise with the count. It's a distraction therapy.

I wasn't sure how my body would react last night. I knew I needed to run, I also wanted to run with other people and to be challenged.

Surprisingly, despite being anxious at the prospect of having an absolute Horlicks of a run, I came off the hour-long session feeling buoyed with my self-confidence significantly boosted. I set out with the attitude of going for it, pushing myself hard but making sure the first set was as good as the last set; avoid going off too hard.

Very soon I found myself up near the front with the whippets. A couple of guys stayed with me for the first two or three sets but I pushed on. My legs felt strong, they wobbled a little towards the end because of a lack of core strength, but I was light and lifting. My lungs felt good too, coping with the sharp, burning pace.

And when the seeds of doubt crept in, the trick was to block those considerations from the mind; I distracted myself by setting targets around the course, looking ahead to the next cone or passing the next person on the circuit as Mike, our instructor, counted down the time at the end of each set - "30 seconds gone, half way, last 30 seconds, 10, 9..."

This was a good night. This was a night when running was the vital psychological crutch I needed. I wasn't physically sick at the end but I was buzzing with endorphins as the group went through the routine of stretching exercises at the end.

Life is about hanging onto the good things, cherishing them and nurturing them. And running is definitely one of life's good things.