Cool Running : he came, he saw, he did a bit of running….
Looking back it seems that the last blog I did was four weeks ago, a cheery little number about all the training I’d done and how I felt I was ready for the marathon. The last line went something like: “four weeks to go? I can’t wait!”. I’ll let you into a little secret, that last line was a big fat lie!
The last couple of months of my training consisted of me moping around with a face like a slapped backside because I couldn’t train thanks to a gammy knee. I finally got that fixed by a physio I’d been referred to (thank you Philippa!) but sadly, no sooner was my right knee fixed than my left knee packed up which was absolutely soul destroying, especially as the magician who had fixed my right knee had gone on holiday for a week.
I had already become convinced that I wouldn’t be able to do the race a few weeks before and had slipped back into old dietary habits, which mainly involved eating cakes all day at work. So with less than a week to go I revisited the fabulous Mark Potter of the Injury Treatment Centre in Worthing who stuck more pins in my knees, advised me of the generally accepted maximum doses of ibuprofen and bluntly told me that of course I’d be OK to run on Sunday. Gulp! This meant that I was about to face a gruelling 26.2 mile road race half a stone heavier as a result of falling off the cake wagon and having not pulled on a pair of trainers in anger for about eight weeks, hardly ideal preparation!
After a “once more for luck” acupuncture session on Friday I got home and read through all of the literature I’d been sent about race day. I planned my journey to the race, dusted off my trainers, attached the timing chip to them, pinned my race number onto my brand new, as yet unworn Body Shop Foundation running top and finally lay down for a restless night’s sleep around 1.00am. On Saturday morning I got my hair cut at around 9.00am which started a chain of “this time tomorrow” thoughts which frankly sent my stomach into somersaults! By the end of the day I was a bag of nerves so in a slightly masochistic attempt to calm them I watched the first half hour or so of “run fatboy run” before turning in for a good night’s sleep.
Getting ready on Sunday morning all seemed to happen in a bit of a surreal blur and before I knew it I was sat on the park and ride bus heading for Preston Park. Once I arrived there I had a little panic as I realised I had forgotten my asthma inhaler. Thankfully the nice doctor with the St John’s people was able to supply me with one which was a result and I set off for the Charity Village to meet up with the rest of the Body Shop Foundation runners. I was beginning to wonder what else I’d forgotten!
Everyone seemed to be full of nervous energy and we were all anxious to just get on with it so it was a bit of a relief when it was time to check in our bags and head to the start line. This was it! I was about to find out if acupuncture really had cured my knees and just how much fitness I had lost in the preceding eight weeks. At about 9.15am the race finally got underway and I was off around the streets of Brighton.
The first couple of miles were very tentative and I was very conscious of even the slightest twinges I felt in my knees, of which there were a few, but after I’d gone about four miles I began to realise that my knees were holding up nicely and it seemed I was in with a good chance of lasting the distance. Sadly it was becoming clear that my general fitness was way below its peak and that it was incredibly hot for April! Life was fine and dandy in the shade but as soon as we were back in the sunshine it was hot, damn hot, and the realisation once we hit the coast there was going to be nowhere to hide from that sunshine was not a pleasant one I can tell you.
After only seven miles I was getting the odd knee twinge so with the clichéd thought that it was a marathon and not a sprint and all I wanted to do was get round I began a regime of walking for a bit and running for a bit in an attempt to nurse my knees to the finish. It was certainly going to be a long old day! As I reached the half way mark the race winner was just finishing and I couldn’t help myself begin to applaud him, as did all of the other runners around me which was a rather touching display of athletic camaraderie I thought. By now we were back into Brighton and back amongst the crowds of spectators who were all clapping and cheering on every runner which was a huge lift to weary legs. The biggest lift of the day came when I spotted three loony women hysterically jumping up and down and squealing. To see the familiar faces of my other half and two of my sisters filled with a mix of excitement and pride was surprisingly emotional and couldn’t have come at a better time as I was really beginning to flag and was seriously questioning the likelihood of my finishing this blisteringly hot race.
At Grand Avenue I stopped to stretch my aching quads and was caught up by a couple of other members of Team Body Shop Foundation whom I spent the remainder of the race with on and off as I continued my run a bit walk a bit regime. From that point on, whenever there was a two way section there always seemed to be another member of the Body Shop Foundation crew coming the other way to wave to despite there only being fifteen of us. That always put a smile on my face, despite the pain which was now a constant throb in my lactic acid filled thighs.
The worst part of the race by far was from mile 20 to mile 23. This section headed out to Shoreham harbour where the crowds seemed to have disappeared and you were left alone with your aching muscles, but then as the runners turned the corner into the harbour itself from out of nowhere there was a banging DJ and very vocal pocket of lively supporters. As this was the western most point on the course and a staggering 21 and a half miles had been covered this support provided a very welcome boost to the morale but with the sun still beating down and the relentless sweltering heat this morale boost was fairly short lived.
At just over 23 miles we finally left the port road and turned back onto the promenade. At this point I was running with Brighton’s favourite son Mr Norman Cook on and off for a while and he was finding the going just as hard as I was, despite the amazing support he was getting from the crowds. We were swapping pain stories as we approached the 24 mile mark and I think this was the first mile marker through the whole race which I greeted with a smile as I figured no matter how much it was hurting I knew I would be able to drag myself on for another couple of miles. Half a mile after that and the bouncing loonies were back and because the runners and the crowds were on the same level at this point they were able to walk along with me for a few minutes and have a chat which was lovely.
And so to the final mile. A couple of hundred yards past the 25 mile marker I looked at my watch and saw that if I could complete this last mile in nine minutes then I would have broken five hours so I went for it. About two hundred yards later and the pain in my leaden thighs almost had me in tears. Sod five hours, a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt (so to speak)! The crowds in the last half mile were several people deep and the applause and cheers of encouragement were ringing in our ears from both sides of the road. The loudest cheers of the day occurred when I passed a clutch of Body Shop Foundation supporters about three hundred yards from the finish. I actually jumped they were so loud and I found myself laughing for the first time since the race started. By now it was as much as I could do to carry on putting one foot in front of the other but I was grinning from ear to ear as I knew that my five hour ordeal was nearly over. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was welling up inside with pride in my achievement and as I stumbled across the line I couldn’t really see properly for the tears in my eyes. It was over! I’d done it! I’d pigging well gone and run a whole blinking marathon!!!!!
It was a hugely emotional end to a journey which started back in June when I overheard a colleague excitedly saying that entries for the Brighton Marathon were opening at 11.00am that morning and I stupidly thought, that sounds like fun! (I still haven’t forgiven Laura for this incidentally). The journey had taken me through the highs of finishing my first 10k race and the lows of excruciating knee pain, the freezing cold and driving rain of November training runs and the sweltering heat of the final day. I’m very proud to have completed a marathon and am fairly confident that it’ll be a one off. I think I’ll try to do a half marathon every year from now on as I’ve grown to quite enjoy the training but having endured the race itself and the two days it has taken me to recover from it I think don’t think another full marathon is on the cards for this little bunny!
Well this will be my last running blog for the foundation so I hope it finds you healthy and well and if you’re thinking you might have a go yourself next year then I wish you the very best of luck and would urge you to get your trainers on and enjoy the ride. After all, if a tubby asthmatic like me can do it then you’re definitely in with a shout! ☺
