عشرة كيلومترات ونصف ماراثون

After sticking with running for several months, my family and I were shocked by my father’s illness, I couldn’t control my emotions, and my mind couldn’t come to terms with it—that loving father who had raised and cared for me from the day I was born until I became the person I am today had fallen ill. I started taking some sedatives, and my life was turned upside down. Months passed as if they were an entire lifetime, until I left Amman for London to attend a training course I had paid for several months earlier. I really needed to go there. I don’t know if the motivation was to escape or get away from the pressures, or if it was the Foggy City’s inherent charm and the tranquility of its countryside, which I hoped would bring peace to my troubled soul. All I know is that I really needed to go there—a place where I had studied and worked for about three years several years ago, and which I know just as well as I know Amman.

One day, shortly after I arrived there, I went out for a run. Of course, my inner self accompanied me on that run, and as soon as we started running, it began a long conversation with me: “What are you doing, Ola? This will change your destiny and the destinies of those you love. I never thought you were this weak. I thought you were incredibly strong and resilient, but it seems I was wrong. Are you turning to medication at the first real problem you face in your life?” Weren’t you the one who always told anyone trying to run away from their problems that running away isn’t the solution? You’re now facing your last chance: either you go back to being the strong, resilient person you used to be, or you’ll throw yourself into ruin. You’re stronger than just a pill, Ola.”

I finished my run and returned home. I went straight to the drawer where I keep my medicine box, grabbed it, and went outside. I walked a few steps until I reached the nearest trash can in the neighborhood, I threw the pill bottle away, turned my back, and went back inside. I vowed to myself that I would never return to such weakness—I am strong enough. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have excelled at kickboxing, nor would I have been able to live here in this city, far from my family and loved ones, several years ago. Running became the medicine for my wounds and the cure for my pain. In it, I felt that I was still capable of holding on; through it, I found the answers to my questions; and it was my refuge in moments of weakness. Every time I went out for a run, Run I run a distance of ten kilometers; that was in 2016

In August 2018, a friend asked me if I wanted to go for a Race “Marathon?” The question took me completely by surprise, since the longest distance I had ever run was ten kilometers, so how could I possibly run more than forty kilometers? I thanked him for the question and apologized, but he pressed the issue, pointing out that there were still about eight months until the race, that I’d been an athlete since childhood, and that with proper training, I’d be able to finish the race. With his persistence and my defiance, I told him I agreed. He said, “How about two, then?” I asked, “What do you mean?” He said, Marathon of Paris will take place in April of next year, while the London Marathon will be held just twelve days later, and you know that the trip between Paris and London takes no more than two and a half hours at most. The word “London” brought back a flood of memories; it took me back to those difficult days I’d gone through, as well as to other beautiful days I’d spent with my friends during my student days in that charming city. I found him asking me again, “You didn’t answer me—what do you think about both?” I smiled and said, “Yes, I agree.” And so I began training for the marathon, not knowing what awaited me there.

After a few days of training, it occurred to me to search social media for a running partner in Jordan, and I found a team Running Amman I found them on Facebook and reached out to them right away. I asked them how many times a week they go running, and they told me three times. Hmm, good, that’s exactly what I’m looking for. “What about the distances?” I asked. They replied that it ranges from eight to ten kilometers. I asked, “What if I want to run farther than that?” They told me I could run whatever distance I wanted, either before or after the group run. I joined them, and being with them helped me increase the distance I run from about twelve to seventeen kilometers in just two weeks.

The First Half Marathon

It hasn't been long since I joined the team Running Amman It was only a few weeks later when one of the team members came up to me and asked, “Would you like to join us in one of the Amman International Marathon races? You can choose between 10, 21, or 42 kilometers.” The idea of running a half-marathon seemed perfect to me, given my preparations for the marathon. “Yes, I can definitely run 21 kilometers. I ran 17 kilometers last weekend, and it’s easy to run an extra four kilometers. Yes, I’ll sign up for the half marathon.”

Race day came quickly. I participated with great enthusiasm and managed to finish the race in under two hours, which is a good time for a beginner runner. That was on October 12, 2018. Less than two months later, I participated in another half marathon—the Ayla Half Marathon, which is held every December in Aqaba—and I also managed to finish that race in under two hours.

Then winter arrived with its cold and harshness, and I had to go out to train in weather that was sometimes bitterly cold, sometimes stormy, and sometimes rainy. I would put on warm sports clothes and head out early in the morning, running through the streets of Amman while thinking about every aspect of my life. Running made me forget the cold weather and the raindrops that often soaked me and drenched my clothes. I would go out to train and wouldn’t stop until I finished the distance I had set for myself beforehand, I continued to prepare and train until I reached a distance of thirty-three kilometers in February 2019—the longest distance I had ever run before a marathon. After that, I began to shorten my runs to give my body the rest it needed before taking on a new athletic challenge I had no prior experience with.

What happened in Paris? Did the heroine of our story finish the marathon? Tune in next Sunday for Part 3.

Read more on Urkod Sami Qatami's Half-Marathon Story