Dublin Rock and Roll Half - my first international running experience!

I’d been looking forward to this one for ages! Booked months ago as a surprise for Des’s Birthday (I was so relieved once he knew and I didn’t have to live in fear of it slipping out) I couldn’t wait to get to Dublin for my first bit of international running tourism! 

I knew that it was never going to be my fastest race – in fact I was fully prepared for it to be my slowest after that bloody injury and generally letting go of the reins, leading to this being the probably the least training I’d done for any race in the three years now that I’ve been running. But that didn’t matter, it was a weekend away and a chance to take part in a race series I’ve been eyeing up for a while.

For anyone who doesn’t know, the Rock And Roll series is a global running brand with races in all sorts of exciting places including the Las Vegas strip. They’re famed for their ‘live bands at every mile’ and the big celebration concert they throw at the end of the race. Being someone who’s been brought up to love music, it’s no wonder it appeared on the running bucket list.

As well as the excitement of the main event, arriving in Dublin at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning gave us the added bonus of fitting in some Parkrun tourism... well a Saturday morning just isn’t the same without it! A quick dash from the airport to Father Collins park where we were greeted by fellow runners from Nottingham and before we knew it, it was time for the off.

Without going into too much detail, I had a shocker the week before at a more local Parkrun, so the flat course and lower temperatures were extremely welcomed as I worked my way around one of ‘those’ runs where everything just feels right! As I made my way round the bends and finally up to the finishing funnel I was feeling confident and strong ready for the half marathon ahead of me the very next day.

The Saturday afternoon was spent soaking up some traditional Irish culture (of course I’m talking about a visit to the Guinness Storehouse!) then we were sensible and got a nice early night ready for the Sunday morning 6am alarm call when we made our way bleary eyed to the start line. And after a bit of a rush in the toilet queues and baggage drop off, all of a sudden the starting claxon was going and the thousands of pairs of feet began to pound the Dublin pavements settling in to their 13.1 miles journey around the city.

As per usual, the first couple of miles were fairly uneventful. I was feeling fairly jovial and pushing any thoughts of the lack of training to the back of my mind and taking in the sights and sounds of the event. Things started to get a bit more tough at around the 4 mile mark but I kept going, telling myself I could do it and reminding myself to take it steadily mile by mile.

Getting toward the five mile marker, the road was split and those of us still in the first third of our journey plodding along could now see those reaching their final few miles dashing down the other side. Some runners hate this but for some reason I’ve always enjoyed it – I don’t really know why but something about seeing those completely in the zone who’ll be finishing in perhaps half the time it will take me really motivates me!

And bloody hell did I need some motivation as the first of the hills I’d been anxiously anticipating started to come into view. Having looked at the elevation map earlier in the week, I knew there were going to be some killer hills but I’d nowhere near mentally prepared myself for what lay over the next five miles! Massive evalation followed by massive elevation up into some beautiful little villages, it genuinely seemed never ending. Accepting that there was no way I’d be running up these and living to tell the tale, I just had to crack on doing what I could. To be honest, somewhat surprisingly, I was still enjoying the race despite this as I chatted a bit to some of the other suffering runners around me. All of us cursing the hills, wondering quite why we thought it would be a good idea!

The miles extremely slowly ticked by, passing the half way mark where I could begin counting down instead of up (I always count up the miles to the first half then down to the end). The hills didn’t stop – there were some sharp downhills too which were almost more tricky to run that the declines, but definitely more fun! But I was making my way through the race eagerly looking forward to getting to the end.

By about mile 10 I was shattered, running when I could down a long sloping hill nervously checking the time every now and again to make sure I had plenty of time before they needed to open the roads. So I was bloody gutted when way ahead of time, I was asked to move onto the pavement because they needed to get the traffic moving, my head started going a bit and those all too familiar thoughts of being a ‘rubbish runner’ crept in. This all escalated when some of the bloody volunteers (I want to make it clear here, people who volunteer for races are generally magnificent and should be praised as such) who were obviously keen to get home started absent mindedly chucking rope off of cones and into the path of those of us still giving absolutely everything to get this race done. After nearly tripping twice and shouting at them the bloody be careful, that was it – the waterworks tap was on.

I cried for about the next half a mile – definitely not uncommon… but massively not helped by passing one of these “bands at every mile” who was packing up before those of us at the back of the pack had chance to enjoy it. Feeling thoroughly demotivated, if I hadn’t have been aware that I didn’t have too much left to go I couldn’t easily have thrown the towel in here.

But doing what I always do I kept on going and it did get a little better. I suppose I have the rope throwing volunteers to thank a bit because I kept running to make sure I was far enough ahead to not encounter them again! I soon started to hear some live music just in the distance and as I made my way around a bend a young lady was on stage still singing – back to crying but because I was happy this time “bless her she’s still playing for us” tears! 

Getting excitingly close to the end it was up another bloody hill – nothing compared to those earlier in the race but much more than necessary at 12.5 miles in – and past another band (yes I cried again!) and finally the end was in sight.

Excited and relieved in equal measure to see the finish line with Des’s big smiling face next to it waiting for me, I ran as fast as I could (probably the world’s slowest sprint finish) and at long last it was all over!

One of the perks of being one of the last to finish is that it takes no time to get through the finishing area (collecting the all-important medal and freebies) and retrieve my bag from baggage collection. Reunited with Des and both of us hobbling around in loads of pain we somehow managed to clamber to the floor to enjoy the last of the live music on stage. I have to say at this point that I was slightly (read very) gutted there was only non-alcoholic drinks on offer!

So that was it! Half marathon number five done and dusted. It was definitely a story of ups and downs and that counts for more than just the bloody hills! To be honest the atmosphere and other main selling points of the Rock and Roll series were a little disappointing. It was generally a great race which I did enjoy, but I was expecting much more from the bands on course and there were some other gaps in the organisation which tarnished the experience a little.

However, I must say I enjoyed my first taste of international running – and Temple Bar in the evening was an extremely welcome wind down to the weekend!

The all important medal!

Not the view you want more than 10 miles in!

#justdoingwhatwelove

This almost shows how evil it was!

June – the running streak that should have been.

This should be a post about running every day for a month. At one point it even looked like it might even have been a post about hitting my first ever 100 mile month.

Instead it’s a post about having a really good couple of weeks running which came to an abrupt end when the niggly ankle injury I had when marathon training returned with a vengeance.

I decided on the last day of May that I was going to do a running streak in June for a couple of reasons. Since the marathon, I’d been really hit and miss with training and really hadn’t got a real love for running back. It was all too easy to find reasons why I couldn’t fit runs in and generally my motivation was low. As a result, I my pace remained much lower than where I’d been before Christmas and before the long gruelling marathon runs had started to take their toll.

So with the two summer half-marathons I’m looking forward to in my head and wanting each of those to be a much better experience than the Stratford Half a few weeks ago, I decided a streak was just what I needed to get my head back in to it, and prove to myself that it is possible to fit a run in each day no matter how busy I am, how much I can’t be bothered and… how much I’ve drank the previous evening.

The first couple of days were fairly decent, a highlight was taking part in a spot of Parkrun tourism in Leeds with my lovely Southbank Running Club however that meant the run the following day was particularly tricky following a 14 hour drinking session!

By a week in I was feeling good! The runs were enjoyable and the love of running was really starting to come back. By the end of week two I felt fantastic! I was starting to really see my paces fall which I hadn’t expected while still doing the streak, I’d presumed it would be a bit of a ‘gets worse before it gets better’ experience.

I kept thinking back to that first running streak I’d done 18 months before – advent running! I remember finding that really tough and I kept wondering when that toughness would kick in this time. But as I crossed the days off the calendar I was only loving it more this time around! I thought about this a lot and I think it just boils down to how vastly different my conditions were approaching it this time around:

·         It’s summer. I like the summer! I do not like cold dark nights and mornings and having to wear a millions layers in an effort to keep warm

·         No treadmills this time – I don’t need to expand on this

·         Back in December 2016 every run was a solo run, this time it was quite the opposite!!

So really, the combination of running in lots of different places with lots of different people consistently in the sunshine makes for a much better running streak experience. So much so that half way though the month I realised that I was almost at 50 miles and maybe I’d even be able to get to 100 for the month. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy task but I also knew that I was capable and whoever took up running without being keen for a challenge anyway!! So that was that, I was going to do my absolute best to get to 100 miles by the end of June.

I was so motivated and keen to hit my target that on Monday 19^th June I decided to postpone my normal lunchtime run around Colwick Park in favour of going in the evening so I’d have time to get more of those all-important miles in. I had noticed that my foot had been aching a little bit it felt like the kind of ache that would easily run off if I took it steady. How wrong I was!

Heading down the familiar paths of Colwick Park, looking out over the lake shimmering in the sunshine and trying everything to take my mind off it but it wasn’t working and it was quickly becoming a case of run a few meters walk a bit until I got to just over a mile in and realised it a futile. It was time to turn off the Garmin (just realised I’ve not even mentioned my lovely new Vivoactive!) and hobble back to the car.

I was definitely crying a bit as I hobbled my way back, phone in hand whatsapping the running club group to share my woes. I’m not sure whether I was crying more out of frustration and worry that my streak was over or more because it really bloody hurt.

Hoping that an evening of the whole RICE thing would sort it I tried to stay positive as I settled on the sofa to enjoy the first England match of the World Cup campaign.

Skip forward a few weeks and I fully expected that hopes of England winning the World Cup would be long gone along with any worries of a dodgy ankle. However despite my delight at the unfortunately we’re well into July now and the ankle still isn’t right. It’s not as bad as it was an I did manage my first run in two and a half weeks but I’m still limping.

It will get better – a trip to the doctors after a week in pain confirmed that it was just a bit of tissue damage. But it’s a matter of being patient and building back up slowly – not something runners are known for being good at!

My next big race is 6 weeks away now, the Dublin Rock & Roll Half Marathon. I’m really looking forward to it but definitely won’t be worrying about speeding my way around. It should be a fantastic atmosphere and I’m really looking forward to the weekend away with Des so I’ll just go along and enjoy it.

 

 

Stratford Half Marathon 2018

I always like to get my thoughts onto paper as quickly after a race as I can while it's still fresh. But a combination of a busy few weeks and not having particularly fond thoughts about this race, here I am four weeks later finally sitting down to talk about the Stratford Half Marathon.

13 or 14 of us from my running club signed up for the Shakespeare half, a couple of us keen to use it as a marker after our spring marathons, others just always up for a new race and the all important medal which goes with it.

It had all the potential to be an excellent run. A lovely, scenic yet challenging course, decent crowd support and half the distance I'd dragged myself through a couple of weeks earlier. But some days, it's just not your day.

It started well, the sun was shining and the buzz of having Des and loads of our friends there meant the early start and long drive were all but forgotten by the time we reached the start line and took some obligatory pre-race selfies. As the starting horn sounded accompanied by the clapping of spectators who were lining the streets, I felt good as I got moving, excited even.

The first couple of miles were alright, the course fairly flat and nicely scenic with the spring sun not yet too exhausting. I felt fairly strong as I hit the 5km mark and into the second quarter of the race. I was trotting along the countryside roads of Stratford quite happily enjoying it about as much as one can enjoy a half marathon.

Then around mile five or six, things started to turn a bit. Despite feeling quite good, I got a bit too hung up on the numbers on my watch and realised I wasn't really running very quick at all. At this point, I completely fell out with the race. I don't really know why but I just went into a complete strop with it. I couldn't get my head around how, when I felt like I was trying really hard and running really well, I was still so bloody slow.

On reflection, it was probably a combination of the heat, the undulating course and the fact I'd barely done any miles since the big day a few weeks earlier. Thinking like that would have been far too rational and sensible though, so instead I just carried on in a huge huff.

Despite being able to look back on it now with a bit of humour, I was the closest I've ever come to giving up that day. I really let it get into my head that I was a 'rubbish runner' and I really struggled with the thought of how much longer it was going to take me to get across that finishing line. Half crying, half-running half shuffling down those county lanes which had seemed so lovely just a little time ago, I decided I had to keep on going because either way I'd need to get back to the finish line and if I gave up I knew I'd be fuming with myself by that evening.

So I carried on. Plodding along determined to get to the end, thoughts of running a time to be proud of out of my head and just focusing on keeping going. I made little patterns for myself run for a bit then walk for a bit... just get to that tree then you can walk etc until I got to about mile 11 when I'd settled quite nicely into a run half a mile walk quarter of a mile pattern. Not ideal but at least finally the distance was starting to melt away.

I feel like I have to mention at this point the fantastic runners who started to come past me. Along with the half marathon, there was a full marathon option and just after I reached the 11 mile marker the first runner ran by me. Followed minutes after by the second and third etch, all people who'd ran twice as far as me, twice as fast. Despite my own struggled I couldn't help but shout words of encouragement, bloody brilliant effort.

Back to my own run, I was nearing the end now and flipping heck was I glad! Carrying on with the little pattern I'd formed through miles 11, 12 and into the final one down a tiny narrow path and back into the park I'd left behind all those hours earlier. I could hear the crowds starting to build as I made my way through the final twists and turns and finally the finish line and familiar smiling faces were back in sight.

Feeling more relieved that it was over than anything else as the town's mayor put my medal round my neck I was so glad to be done! Des was waiting for me right next to the line and as it happened a toe accident a few miles in meant he's had a pretty bad run too. It was hard as we reconvened with the rest of the running club to find some pride in what I'd done rather than annoyance at how badly it had gone.

But it was done, half marathon number 4 in by far my slowest time of 2:53:58.

On a positive note, I would definitely recommend that Stratford Half Marathon! It was extremely well organised, a good level of support along the picturesque route with plenty water stations along with way. I definitely can't say that I won't be back to give it another go...

I am a marathon runner! VM London Marathon 2018.

What. A. Day!

I can't quite believe that it's all over, after the months of training, anticipation, nerves and excitement, it's all done now!

I don't really know how to start properly with describing the day, so the beginning seems like a good place. And I promise I'll try not to waffle on too much.

To be honest, I was a lot more calm in the final few days than I expected to be. I'm a huge stresser and worrier but as the marathon got nearer, I was loads more excited than nervous, and I was right to be!

The first thing I've got to mention is the heat. After months of harsh cold winter training, British Summer decided to show its face at the back end of last week. And as the marathon rapidly approached, all over the news and weather were the predictions that Sunday 22nd April was set to be the hottest London Marathon on record. Just my bloody luck!

To some extent though, as I made my way from Greenwich Train Station and up through the park with a friend from Running Club and some friends of his, the warm sunny weather just added to the joyful, festival-like atmosphere. The buzz in the runners' area was like nothing I've experienced, we were all in it together and the day was the final hurrah of months of hard work... we had this!

All too soon it was time to get in the pens and it all suddenly started to feel very real. Surrounded by thousands of nervous runners I'd by lying if I said I wasn't feeling it too. A huge roar from the crowd let everyone know the clock had stuck 10 and Queenie somewhere over the other side of Greenwich pressed a big button for Mo and his gang to get started. And we waited.

We waited and waited then shuffled forward a bit then waited some more. It was almost 45 minutes before I finally crossed the start line but the rush of energy and excitement once I had was unreal. As I made my way through the streets lined with spectators to the sounds of cheering and various bands playing there was a real party atmosphere. It was great!

Aware of the relentless heat, I slowed my pace right down and took it all in. I was never going to be world record breaking so pace wasn't a huge worry to me, I'd much rather enjoy the day. As I bounced my way round the London Streets I was doing just that.

The first key landmark en route is the famous Cutty Sark, a magnificent restored ship always promising hundreds of eager spectators. As with the rest of the marathon so far, it did not disappoint! To be honest, that part was a little bit smaller than I expected, but it passed by and I got excited in the knowledge that my family would be waiting for me just a couple of miles down the road.

I carried on trotting round through a few little twists and turns and was horrified to see as I turned one corner a rather large Derby County FC flag. Seconds later, I noticed Des and my family just in front of it and...well video evidence which I won't publish here shares the sentiment I had for that Derby flag! But a photo I will publish shows how happy I was to see Des (and the rest of them) and I can be heard shouting between expletives how much fun I was having before I carried off on my very long journey.

It was shortly afterwards that things started to go wrong. Starting to tire somewhat in the heat I, along with thousands of other runners, were devastated to find at mile 9 that the water station had completely ran out of water!!! All too soon the great endorphin rush was overshadowed with panic and the worry about when, during the hottest London Marathon on record, we'd get another drink.

Slowing right down into a walk, I started to share words of disbelief with other runners "Can't believe it" "in this heat" "they said there'd be enough" echoed around with one man angrily encouraging the spectators to tweet about what was happening.

Really really feeling the heat now and worrying about when the bloody hell I'd get to another station with stock, I decided the best thing to do was put out an SOS message to the family Facebook chat group. Then I got my head down and got on with it as best I could, all the while with the uncertainty in the back of my mind and my pace reflecting it.

Eventually I got to my support crew at about mile 11, I was even happier to see them this time! They, like many spectators around them, had got loads of water from a local shop for me and my fellow runners. I've never been so excited to see a bottle of something non-alcoholic! The heat had been really getting to me so I took Dad's cap and carried on with my journey, feeling a little perkier.

As I carried on plodding through the streets of London, thoughts turned to the next key landmark I knew wasn't too far away, Tower Bridge. Everything really beginning to hurt now, I was willing myself on to get there as that was the part (other than the finish of course!) that I was most looking forward to. Struggling through, trying my best to keep an consistent pace, it was at this point I had the pleasure of running with Harriet, one of my fellow Girlguiding team. We nattered away a bit and all of a sudden turned a corner and there it was!

Heading towards the magnificent structure, I heard a familiar "KKKKAAAAAAYYYYYYY" in the distance. As if this bit wasn't amazing enough, one of my best friends, John waving madly at me! I skipped over the road to him, so excited to see another friendly face, gave him a big hug and a few happy tears and once again trotted off on my way.

All runners love a selfie, and at this point I couldn't resist. Keeping my pace as much as possible I whipped my phone out and quickly shot, the result (below) was a pretty fab photo! With a new rush of endorphins I flew up onto the bridge, something I've dreamed of running over for years and really soaked in the fantastic atmosphere. This was made even more brilliant by another friendly face from my running club cheering from the side of the bridge.

Before I knew it I was hitting the half marathon mark, I was half way there! Shit, I had to do all that all over again, on legs that were already tired, feet that were squealing and hours and hours after I had a good porridge re-fuel. This is when it started to get really hard and the enormity of what I was doing hit me.

To be honest, miles 13-18ish were fairly uneventful. The crowds were still great, everything really hurt and my pace was getting ever slower. With no major landmarks to look forward to and not seeing my family for ages, this section was without a doubt the hardest bit. It was impossible to ignore the runners either side of the road here and there taking assistance from the hundreds of volunteers waiting to help.

I still had a long way to go and it was increasingly feeling like my legs weren't my own. I never for a second thought I wouldn't finish but bloody hell these miles went on forever! I seemed to be stuck in that no man's land between reaching the half way point and getting to the last third running round endless Canary Wharf streets.

I don't know why or how, but somewhere around mile 18 I got a bit of a second wind. Everyone around me doing a combination of walking and running by this point, from somewhere I got a burst of energy and didn't stop for a walking break for ages. It was definitely helped along by a sort of tunnel of charities (including the Girlguiding cheer squad!) and as I encouraged the crowd to cheer then cried a bit as they did, I started to feel like I was in control again.

The next few miles were again fairly uneventful, still bloody hard but with that faint glimmer of "I'm really the top side of this now" I started to look forward to seeing my family and Des again as I knew they wouldn't be far away. Scanning the crowds looking for them was a really helpful way of taking my mind off the pain I was in, and the determination for them not to see me walking kept me running which helped too.

I finally reached the stretch of road where a couple of hours before I'd plodded down one side watching the speedy runners glide down the other and before I knew it there were the faces of my five favourite people in the world, I was so so happy to see them! Hugs and kisses and more tears ensued (along with a warning to Des that his forehead was burning!) This time I swapped Dad's hat for a Nottingham flag and off I went to sort this Marathon once and for all.

Despite the jovial tone I'm trying to keep here and the rose tinted glasses I'm definitely wearing writing this a few weeks on, I can remember being in an absolute world of pain. I've never been good with it, to be honest I'm quite mardy. But I am bloody stubborn in equal measure and it was that stubborn determination that kept me going as I went back past tower bridge and into the final few miles at long last.

I think I cried for the vast majority of the last two miles. I cried for such a huge mixed bag of reasons. They were happy tears definitely, I thought about how far I'd come (both literally and mentally), and as the crowds were willing me one, perfect strangers smiling and cheering my name, I was like a tap that just wouldn't turn off. I couldn't help but be extremely reflective as I came to the end of the biggest challenge of my life and the tears kept coming as I made my way down the embankment, focusing on the view of the London eye which I knew meant I was so close to the end.

Turning into the mall is like nothing else. You're running on that reddish road you've watched thousands of runners make their way down on the telly but nothing can really prepare you for it. By now the pain of the 25 miles I'd ran already insignificant I ran through those last metres proudly holding the flag of my beloved Nottingham behind me. I don't think I've ever had such a huge smile on my face.

I came level with two other women about 400m from the end, and an excited spectator shouted to one of them "I love you soooo much, you've got this!!" Well, that was it, me and my two new fellow runners were in floods. I turned to the strangers next to me and said "We have, we've got this, we've bloody done it" as one of the other women said how beautiful it was seeing families and loved ones supporting each other.

From nowhere I managed a sprint finish (which was in reality probably as far from a sprint as possible without sitting down) and before I knew it a kind smiling lady was putting a big heavy medal on me and I had "Well done" coming from here there and every where.

As soon as I gathered myself enough I took out my phone and rang Des. I'd done it, I'd bloody done the best thing I've ever done and I needed to tell him all about it!! After just about holding it together while I spoke to Des, he passed the phone to my Dad and as soon as he said "you're not crying are you" the flood gates opened again. He cried, I cried, and I put in my order for "a pint, a glass of wine and a Pepsi Maxx in that order before I hung up and went off in search of my bag which I'd parted with what felt like weeks ago.

By this point, I was in such a haze that I couldn't even work out which lorry I needed to get to and must have looked pretty pathetic hobbling round, a snivelling mess. Eventually I got there, so happy to see a different pair of shoes that I said straight down to change into them.

Now, bit of advice here. If you've just ran a marathon DO NOT SIT ON THE KERB. I think getting up from there may have been the hardest part of the whole thing, blooming heck who knew the floor was so far away!

I need to draw this blog to a close at some point or I'll be waffling on forever. I feel like as this bit marks the end of the actual marathon I should do here really. I could go on about the pain of walking down the steps to the delayed tube, or about the sheer delight and seeing Des and my family when I got back to them. I could definitely talk about how after a week of abstaining and 26.2 miles later, how magnificent my line-up of drinks was. But I think I've gone on long enough!

So that's it, I'm a marathon runner!!! It really was such a fantastic day and went straight in at the top of my favourite days ever. It's the ultimate on the running bucket list and I've done it!

London Marathon - you were fantastic!!

Five days to go!

In many ways I really can't believe I'm properly into the final stages of marathon preparation. Months ago when I got the phone call and swiftly accepted the place, late April seemed like an absolute age away. Even at Christmas it still seemed a long way off, yet all too quickly it's days away and I've somehow got to run a bloody marathon in just five days (and one of them is almost over!)

I wanted to sit and get this blog out before I go into full marathon prep panic mode because I want to do it well, it's a post I've been making mental notes and planning ever since that day back in October. It's my thank you post.

First and foremost, I need to thank Girlguding for giving me the opportunity to run the London Marathon, something thousands of people each year dream of doing. But not just that, and perhaps more importantly I want to thank all the women I've met throughout my life as a "Girl Guide" many of whom have been fantastic influences on me. Regularly when the training has been tough I've thought about them and in particular how amazingly proud I know Nita would have been of me for taking on this challenge. Thinking fondly back on many of the memories - especially from the sunny August weeks spent in a tent at Walesby Forest - has also provided me with some good giggles to keep me going.

Next is anyone who has been to the fundraising events in the lead up to the big day. Everyone who braved the Baltic Yorkshire temperatures back in December at Bleak House Farm for the fabulous horse gala, it was a lovely day despite the chill and everyone was so wonderfully generous and kind. Then there was the hugely fun Race Night at the Venue where once again the pockets were deep and this time the beer flowed, thank you for coming along to support my cause - I hope you had as much fun as I did!

And speaking of The Venue, thank you to Sandra, Ness and Tony for letting me have the event and for your kind donation, I'll be wearing that logo with pride on Sunday and I can't wait to show off my medal next time I'm in! And thanks in general to all the "pub lot" for your continual support and encouragement.

Also on my vest on Sunday is WriteOn - thank you Jo and the rest of the team for your support, it truly means a lot!

Then there's Wastecycle. The logo is on my vest in anticipation of a donation once my finishing time has been confirmed - £5 for every minute sub 6hrs is a great motivator! And thank you to my fantastic colleagues who have brought cakes, books and taken part in the sweepstake, it's great to know you're behind me!

My fantastic running club has been invaluable during the training. Through their knowledge, advice and continual humour they've been an absolute God-send. I'd love to name you all but I know I'd forget someone so just know that I'm truly greatful to you all for everything you've done and said to help me - and the kind sponsors are a bonus! We are without a doubt the friendliest and best running club around!

Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, shared and commented on my blog and social media posts. In particular my wonderful and supportive bunch of Aunties, I'm so lucky to have you! No matter how much I post people have a positive reaction which has kept me reassured that I'm not being too much of a marathon spammer.

On the subject of marathon spamming, a special thank you has to go to the lovely Sarah Bryan, my work bestie who sits with me for 40 hours a week. I'm sure she must be sick to death of hearing about running but she does nothing except listen, smile and give me some of the best words of support I receive.

Huge huge thank you to everyone who has donated! I've absolutely smashed my target ad I couldn't have done that without each and every one of you, thank you!

And finally there's Mum, Dad, Des, Simon and Katie.

When I say I couldn't have done it without you lot I absolutely mean it. For everything you've all done and your continual support in every way there aren't words to thank you enough. I promise I'll try not to be too mardy or stroppy in the last few hours before the marathon. I can't promise I won't moan after though...

This is it then. My next post will be the race write up... here it goes!!

The Rob Lathall Field Mill to City Ground 18 Mile Run

It’s been no secret in my recent blogs that things haven’t exactly been going to plan. So with the London Marathon drawing ever nearer, a run I spotted via Facebook seemed perfect for getting things back on track – 18 miles from my home town of Mansfield essentially running back to West Bridgford and my beloved City Ground.

I already had in my head (and written on a loose plan) that Good Friday should involve somewhere around 18 miles so it was great coincidence that this run meant Des and I would both be able to run sort-of together but at our own paces in the company of other people – and there was the added bonus of it helping out a couple of charities too.

Good Friday soon came around and the long-run prep took place as usual, this time with the addition of a hydration backpack which is something I’d never used before therefore adding another thing to worry about! (I needn’t have, it turned out to be just fine once I’d got used to the sloshing!)

We arrived at Field Mill greeted by a handful of other runners and founding members of my Fan Club – Mum and Dad – who’d came out into the cold to wave us off. After a bit of nervous standing round and an obligatory pre-run photo shoot it was suddenly time for the off before I’d even got my GPS watch going!

I headed out on the route with a group of women and as we began up the first hill toward Sutton we had some little bits of chatter, the standard “How far have you ran before” “Are you training for anything at the moment” type comments all runners use to strike up conversations with each other.

Those first few miles were more hilly than I’d anticipated having spent some time studying the route map beforehand. It was tricky but not entirely unpleasant and I was kept company by a really pleasant chap who was making sure I didn’t fall too far behind the pack.

As we reached the first main check point of the Badger Box a friendly group of ladies said they’d make sure I kept with them and wait for me when I needed it – I was greatful of that and didn’t realise at that point just quite how much waiting I’d be making them do!

The first six miles ticked away fairly steadily, but as we ran on I could feel that niggly ankle reminding me it still wasn’t right and by mile seven I was having to walk a fair bit, wincing now and then as I got a pain here and there when my foot landed. I pushed on encouraged by the ladies whose names I was slowly picking up as we headed through Hucknall and toward Bulwell.

No sooner had my ankle eased off though did the bloody blisters start. I really don’t know what’s happened over the last month but for some reason my feet just seem to have turned against me and became ridiculously delicate! I could feel the familiar burning sensation in the arch of my foot and spreading but determined to get this run done I pushed on, albeit walking much much more than I’d have liked and running very slowly otherwise.

But true to their word my new friends didn’t leave me! No matter how much I insisted I’d be OK and knew where I was going, every couple of hundred meters I was greeted with smiling faces and words of encouragement.

The miles still melted away, albeit slower than in the first section. In my head I had that I needed to get to 12 miles… once I was there I was two thirds through and could muster through the final section.

12 miles came and went and turned into a half marathon – I was now officially running further than I ever had before! Still with that burning feeling in my feet all too soon I was at the foot of “prison hill”, a part of the route I’d been dreading since before I set out on the Nottinghamshire trek. Anyone familiar with Nottingham will know what I mean by prison hill – it’s a sharp, steep incline just off the ring-road heading toward Basford. It’s hard work getting up it in my little Peugeot 107 so heaving myself up it 14 miles in was just as tricky as I’d anticipated.

Needless to say, when I finally reached the top I was not alone! By this point I really don’t know how I’d have kept going without the support of my fellow runners, the were bloody fab!

Another hill up and down and before I knew it we were on Mansfield Road and finally properly on the way back! Properly on familiar territory now on pavements I’ve pounded loads of times training for various races. At this point I think the mixture of steady down hills, knowing I was nearly back and the ever-present encouragement meant my pace picked up slightly and it wasn’t too long before we turned on to London Road ready for the home straight.

As we gathered ourselves for a final team-talk where the ladies assured my we’d do the final bit together, I couldn’t help but have a little cry. Overcome with relief at being nearly done, pride at what I’d already achieved and gratitude for the ladies who’d got me through it.. it was nearly all over!

I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to Trent Bridge! As we veered onto Trentside, my home turf which holds so many memories (both running and otherwise) the five of us linked hands to melt away those final few meters to re-join the rest of the pack who it felt like a lifetime since we’d seen back in Mansfield.

Seeing Des’s face beaming at me (he’d put extra miles in to round it up to 20.. and finished an hour earlier than I got back) and being handed a medal and goody bag was such a fantastic feeling.. I’m genuinely surprised at how I managed not to cry again!

Rounding it all off the only way we know how – with a well-earned pint in The Southbank – really put the icing on the cake of a great morning (I’m definitely looking at it with rose tinted glasses now that a few weeks have passed!)

All in all it was a great experience, regardless of how many days it took me to be able to walk properly! Both organised and taken part in my some wonderfully friendly people… I truly think there is something special about the running community.

So now I’m into the final countdown for London, with less than two weeks until the big day! I don’t think I’ll ever fell completely ready but I don’t feel half as out of depth as I did do!

www.virginmoneygiving.co.uk/kayknowles

 

The start, smiles all around!

The route, never realised North Notts was so 'undulating'

The SBRC contingent at the end, still managing a smile in front of the world famous City Ground!

Four weeks to go... definitely did not need an injury to crop up!

I've realised this morning that it's far more awful not being able to run when you want to, than really not wanting to but dragging yourself out anyway.

It's now just four weeks until London and instead of setting my alarm for 7am to go through my beans and toast routine before heading out for a long run, I'm sat in "runner's corner" (the part of Southbank Bar which is taken over by Lycra and fluorescent t-shirts every Wednesday evening and Sunday morning) having just waved off everyone else on what feels like the first sunny Sunday morning in bloody months.

I've somewhat begrudgingly ran in rain, snow and wind during this marathon training and when we finally get a nice Sunday I'm hobbling around on a dodgy ankle feeling jealous, annoyed and pretty deflated.

I don't know exactly what wrong with it, but since I ran on Thursday I've been in loads of pain. I don't know whether it's the pain that's bothering me the most of the accompanying panic that I needed a really good run today to put me in good stead for the 18 mile trek I've signed up to next Friday from Mansfield to Nottingham.

I've always been a worrier, so to give me some actual ammunition and a cause for worry and it's a bloody awful combination, especially four weeks before race day when I need my head to be in the right space. I'm going to have to pull out something special in the next few weeks to give me a very much needed confidence boost.

Right now, I'm trying to think about the next few days rather than the big looming day that is 22nd April, but it's just about impossible. Weeks ago I came to terms with the fact that it's going to be by far the hardest and probably the most painful thing I've ever done... now it all feels like it will be twice as hard and twice as painful and I need to be ready for it in just four short weeks.

Wish me look... I bloody well need it!

And if you could spare absolutely anything and sponsor me, I'd be hugely hugely grateful!