I DID IT: I am a marathoner

In November last year I ran a 10k in 1 hour 9 minutes and decided to sign up for the Manchester, UK marathon.

Yesterday (6th April) I ran the last 10k of the marathon in 1 hour 7 minutes. In five months, I managed to not only knock minutes off my 10k, but I managed to knock minutes off it after running 20 miles.

Look they gave me a medal and everything.

I always approached the marathon with a sense of caution, I didn’t want to aim for an amazing time and be disappointed when I crossed the line. So it was with great surprise when I found myself sprinting over the finish as the clock read 4 hours 45 minutes.

I would have laughed at you, if you had told me that would be my first marathon time.

And in a way it seemed part happy accident, part stubbornness and partly admitting to myself that maybe I was much fitter than I let on.

I had originally planned to run a 5 hour marathon, by joining a 5 hour pace group. Pace groups for the initiated are basically runners with big flags on their back; who keep you at a steady pace to you finish at the right time.

Before the race: I don't normally look like this at 6:30am.

They are good, because they force you to keep steady and keep you going when it gets rough.

I spent the first few miles running with the 5 hour pace group, made up of jolly Manchester guys who played 80s songs from a speaker on their iPod and kept waving at all the elite runners going past. It was a nice way to start.

However, I decided to speed ahead to find a port-a-loo and catch them up later. This is how I accidentally found myself in the 4:45 pace group, and caught up with my running partner.

I found the pace to be pretty good, and managed to catch them up easily after finding a free toilet. We pounded through Altrincham, one of the more picturesque bits of the route. (Better than the bit at mile 23, when all you could see was fields and a sign directing us to the Sewage works - grim.)

We hit the half, and I felt fine. In fact, I felt good! Who have I become?!

I’m not sure at what point it was that I let myself believe I would make it under 5 hours, maybe around 16 miles when I ran past my parents and still felt strong. Or at mile 23 when my pacer told me next time I could do a 4:30 marathon (next goal!)

Finally at mile 24, I hit the wall, my legs hurt and my energy ebbed away. This was the first time I walked in the whole thing. I still cannot get my head around this, I ran consistently for 24 miles (that’s over 4 hours!)

I lost the group at mile 24, and let myself walk a little. Finally, I got to the point where I could see Old Trafford and began plodding down the road. As we turned the corner and I saw the finish, I did something I never thought possible – I sprinted. My pacer was on the line and shouted me in. It was glorious.

And here’s the strangest thing, it was great fun. I genuinely enjoyed it. All the crowds cheering on the sides, and shouting my name! Chatting with random runners along the road.

Feeling strong up until around 20 miles, and only letting it hit me at 23 miles. Seeing my friends standing with a banner, at a point when I was nearing the “god what the hell am I doing” stage. Though all I managed to say to them was: "I am about to fucking die" as I went past.

In five months, I went from running a 10k for the first time, to completing a half marathon to finishing my first full marathon in 4:39:53 (I didn’t go over the start for 5 minutes).

But wait, how the hell did I get there?

In all honesty, I have no idea. And I have a sneaky suspicion if I can do it, anyone can.

Here is a collection of injuries I collected over the course of my training (some not even running related):

• Spin splints
• Weird hip pain (I think its basically sore IT band)
• Ripped the skin of both knees when falling over while running
• Fell out of a loft onto my elbow
• Fell over on some ice bruising my knees at NYE
• Random ankle pain
• Some lovely chaffing in my armpits during the marathon

Mmmmm chaffing. 

I missed some long runs, neglected my strength training and did lots of unhealthy things to my body. So yeah, no one is more surprised than me at that time!

But the main thing is – would I do it again?

I’m already trying to organise one for 2015.

Berlin marathon anyone?

(And yes my legs hurt today).

Apparently I picked up a men's t-shirt, I don't really care. 

A MASSIVE THANKS TO:

EVERYONE who sponsored us! You’re all legends. We’ve made £1,202 so far.

My Brussels (and Maastricht) buddies for pretending to be interested in me talking about this, and letting me make terrible training decisions without too much judgement (another beer anyone?)

My Manchester friends for coming out on race day (with a Bruce Springsteen related sign!), and bringing me food while I lay mildly comatose afterwards.

My dad for passing on the wisdom of a former runner.

AND FINALLY the most important two people:

My mum, for being awesome during a pretty rubbish time. For listening to me doubt myself constantly and for being there on the day to shout support.

Gerrie Evans, my running buddy and constant support throughout this whole ordeal/journey.

For any running people (non runners might get bored now):

I drank water at every stop, and carried it with me until the next one – swapping it at each one. It worked well.

I had three energy gels with me, and ate all the ones along the track (six Clif bar shot gels). First one mile 6, mile 12, and then anytime I could my body dropping after that. I think this helped me stay running for such a long time. No stomach problems at all!

Breakfast: Toast, peanut butter and jam. Banana and some beetroot juice. 500ml of water with Nuun hydration mixed in.

Pace: 10:45.

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The last leg of the journey

Here I am, sat in my pyjamas only a week away from my first marathon.

I don’t know how to feel anymore, my mind jumps between all encompassing fear to giddy excitement. I have started dreaming about the marathon, and they are nearly always nightmares. I accidentally do the half, instead of the full and end up hours later than everyone else. I forget all my water and energy gels, and just have to hope that I can finish without collapsing.

The thing about marathon training is, that as it creeps closer and closer, it becomes the thing everyone wants to talk to me about and the thing I want to talk about the least. I suddenly feel embarrassed when I have to tell people my longest run was 18 miles, and they suck in their teeth as a sign of respect.

I want to grab them and say, seriously it isn’t that great – I say ran, but most of it was me cursing at trees and at my own legs. Some of it definitely wasn’t even running; it was tired walking hoping it would all end.

I guess that is where the terror comes from, the feeling of pure inadequacy!

On the other hand, there is something wonderful about it all. I can run 10 miles, and say, that was just a 10 miler. As if 10 miles was a normal distance to spend pummelling pavements. I am now fit enough that most runs under 8 miles, just feel kind of boring, my body itches for me to grab onto that runners high from when I first began.

Even just completing a simple 5k is an achievement (finally under 30 minutes!).

I now have a strange relationship with my running gear. And as cheesy as it sounds, when I put on my striders and trainers, I feel strangely empowered. These are the clothes I wear to break down personal barriers, to go beyond anything I could have imagined. It feels good.

And on the day, I get to see my friends and my family. I get to be cheered on by random strangers, meet others who have been working as hard as me.

In many ways my training didn’t really go as planned, I missed countless long runs due to various illnesses and injuries, and in the last month became quite slack. I drank too much, ate badly, choose the pub over the gym, smoked when I should have quit, basically lots of bad things.

BUT here’s a little secret that the running community sometimes don’t reveal to you – its ok, because despite all that I am still running. Look up running on the Internet and too much of it seems made to make you stop. People can be snobby, and cruel. Not all of them of course, there is a great camaraderie in running. 

However, sometimes there are snobs, and those snobs can make you feel bad. They moan about slow runners, they berate those attempting 5 hour marathons, and they pretty much have a go at those who don’t fit the healthy standard for a ‘runner’. (As I said, not all, there are plenty of lovely encouraging people out there too!)

I learnt to not let it get to me, because the simple fact is, I am running – even if my training went askew, even if I am not the healthiest person, or my mile times are just faster than walking – I am running. I hate the idea that people are put off, thinking they need to be the picture of health before they start, when really you can do it whatever your habits!

So here I am, on the final stretch! I have no more aspiration than to cross the finish line. I am hoping my stubbornness will force me to keep up with my 5 hour pace group and that someone will be waiting with food and a beer at the end (or a coke, I always crave coca cola after doing long runs).

Let’s hope I can hobble away from this experience, with a tiny feeling that I might do this all again sometime.

Until race day… WISH ME LUCK.

Also we have made over £1,000 in sponsorship, which is bloody awesome :D

You can add to here, if you haven't already.

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My legs hate me today

Last week I ran a 10k, and in the flurry of a runner high - I dreamily decided that it would be a brilliant idea to sign up for a marathon in April. And much like making a drunken purchase using Amazon one click, that brilliant idea suddenly felt utterly absurd as soon as the adrenalin had worn off.

A marathon? The most I have managed before is 10k, so I may not be starting from scratch, but when my race results came in for the run on that Sunday - my name seemed to be surrounded by a large amount of women in the over 40 category. Not that women over 40 are bad runners, in fact I can tell by looking at my own time (I hour 8 mins if you must know), they clearly aren't.

So like any self-indulgent runner, I decided to write a blog - mainly as a outlet for my frustrations, confusions and naval gazing.

Today my legs hurt - they really bloody hurt. They hurt in that way that it is almost hysterically funny how much they hurt, because every movement feels like someone is shredding my thigh with a steak knife. Ok, so its not that bad, but it is the unfortunate issue with running a 10k, followed by a 5k the next day.

My body isn't used to this kind of pressure, it has come rather used to sitting or lying down. I once perfected the ability to lie on my bed, while watching endless episodes of 30 rock on Netflix eating crisps, without having to lift my head at all.

So now my body is on strike, it is refusing to go on, it is picketing the fence that is my upper thighs and sneering at my feet for even trying to get me anywhere. However this shall of course not deter me. I am mildly amused by my bodies resistance, like a toddler throwing a tantrum – it will eventually pass and I shall keep going.

I am a mild reprobate – I drink beer (I live in Brussels, its basically their water), I can’t hear the words 'free food' without the urge to stuff it all in my mouth, I have spent days not leaving the house, but I am a runner.

Welcome to my blog.

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