Finish line!

I didn't die! It's always nice to start on a positive, don't you think? 

Here is the final blog, we have finally reached marathon day. Well, after the episode of bursting into tears at the doctors on Saturday morning and unable to find any time to catch up on sleep that afternoon, I had managed to create a lethal cocktail of sleep deprivation and stress in my body. By the time boyfriend turned up at my house that night, I was in full blown bitch mode. Poor boyfriend, who had spent the day cooking brownies for me, had thought he was coming round to offer words of support and comfort for the big day. But no, all I could do was complain how I hated running and that it was the most stupidiest idea, ever, in the history of the world and whoever invented it was a fool and I didn't like them and running was a giant bag of crocodile poo and it was stupid and sucked big balls of yuck. 


As the alarm went off on Sunday morning, I clung on to my dream world and sunk deeper into the duvet. It took boyfriend at least half an hour to drag me out by my feet and demand I get moving. 

The suncream went on first, factor 20, then came time for the Vaseline, I went through two small jars of the stuff. There must have been a layer an inch thick on my feet, the stuff was every where, and I mean every where - even in my bum! It was gross! I pulled on the lycra; after inspecting the mirror, much to my surprise, I had not turned into a super model over night and the lycra still wasn't working for me. Almost ready to go, just one more thing to do - make up! 

Boyfriend piped up at this point 'Becky, you do not need makeup for a marathon!' Errr yes I do! There will be about 8 trillion people watching this, what if I end up on TV, people might think there is a zombie invasion, or I might get carted away by the first aid people for thinking I'm sick. Make up is a must! Just the basics you understand, this isn't a beauty pageant you know! 

Any way, I left boyfriend at the 'runners only' gate. I'd been advised to wear a bin bag so I didn't get cold. Sitting on the floor, in my bin bag, all alone, watching thousands of lyrca clad people at 7.30 am on a Sunday morning was along way from the days of stumbling home, stilettos in hand a year ago. 


Some people are just mental! There was a man with a life sized tiger strapped to his back, a giant snail, two men had made a double Decker bus which they were carrying, Elvis was there, the entire cast of DC and Marvel comics, even Prince William and Kate Middleton had decided to take part. 

Before I knew it, I was waiting at the start line, sandwiched between two guys carrying a surf board and two guys dressed as giant pink lady apples. The gun went, and we were off. Slowly. In fact it took over half an hour to cross the start line. But we were off. 


I'd watched a video on YouTube the day before about a women's first marathon, when approaching a hill she would recite to her self that she loved hills, for every step she would say one word of  'I.Love.Hills' and before she knew it, she was over the hill. Apparently it's about the positive mental attitude. So for the first three miles, 'I.Loved.Hills'. By mile five I did not love hills! That was a stupid idea. That woman was stupid. No one loves hills! I suppose she got me to mile 5 but hills are stupid! 

I'd decided that morning that I wasn't actually doing a marathon, oh no, all I was doing was going for a mile run, 26 times. That's just a quick, ten minute run to my friends house round the corner, I could do that, easy. I'm just doing that 26 times is all. No problem. 


Don't go out fast to begin with, I'd heard this a million times. Ok then, slow, keep it slow, slow down Becky, it's not a race, slow and steady. Don't worry about the 20 stone man who is over taking you. Or the small child who is walking along side faster than you. Sloowwwwwwww. 


It was hot! The first 5 miles were a little tough, a few slight hills, a complete loss of bearings, a lot of sweat, but it's ok. I'll just aim to run for 15 miles, that's two miles longer than I've run in one go, so I can be proud of that, then I'll just run walk the rest. Yeah, I'll get a good base of running in and then I can slow down for the last third. Ohh you know what, maybe I can run for 20 miles and then run walk the last 6, oh maybe I'll do it in less than 4 and a half hour then. Hey wouldn't it be awesome if I can run the whole thing. Yeah, I'll just go really slow but as long as I keep running it will be fine. 


Hang on, by mile 8 it was SO hot and I was finding it tough. Oh this is pathetic! I've run more than this distance in one go and didn't find it hard at all, why is it so hard today, today is suppose to fly by! I so wanted to walk. I knew boyfriend was at mile 8, I'll run till then, run right into him and then demand he take me home and never let me do any thing so idiotic again. Just get to mile 8, just get to mile 8 and then you can stop. Stupid boyfriend had positioned him self in a really busy place, on a corner, behind railings. I couldn't run up to him. The idiot! There was no choice but to keep going. I hate boyfriend! 

I kept running till mile 10. I'd drank quite a lot of water and lucozade by this point and the memory of the half marathon, where I'd been sick due to too much liquid was fresh in my mind. I decided it would be a good idea to stop and queue for the toilet, in the hope it would relieve some of the fluid and I wouldn't be sick. If we're being really honest though, I just wanted to stop for ten minutes. I thought, perhaps if I stopped and caught my breath, I'd be able to go for another 10 miles. Yeah, it doesn't work like that. It was run walk the rest of the way. 


Mum and brother had made it to mile 10 and then 11. I tried to stop and talk to them but mother insisted I didn't stop and started pushing me away to continue - didn't she realise I didn't want to go on?! 

After the half marathon I hadn't wanted to drink lucozade in case it made me sick but it was the best thing in the world on Sunday. No other drink has every tasted so amazing. I must have drank 3 bottles of the stuff by the end of the day. 


Mile 13 met up with mile 22, it gave you the opportunity to see the really good runners on the other side of the road. To be honest, it was a little bit demotivating, seeing all these people nearly done and knowing you had nearly an hour and a half till you were going to be at their point. One old man ran passed with two streaks of blood down the front of his shirt from his nipples. I mean you hear it happens but to actually see it, he looked as though he'd been shot twice in the chest. I was so glad my chest was strapped well and truly down at that point! 

Between mile 15 and 21 I found it tough. I was bored and tired. The heat was so intense, it was just bouncing off all the city glass building and burning us like ants. Thankfully there where showers every few miles or so, they couldn't come soon enough, I also particularly appreciated the firemen with their hose cooling us down. Didn't appreciate the drunk men outside the pubs offering me their cider quite so much. Generally though, the supporters were incredible, so many people were offering sweets and drinks, kids wanted to high five you. It was lovely. My favourite people were the ones giving out quarters of oranges. Thank you. 

I so wanted it to be over between 15 and 21, I was still no where near the finish, I didn't think any of my supporters where around again until mile 24 and I was tired. 
But I plodded on. There was no way I was quitting, it wasn't an option. I ran past a few first aid tents with little faces peaking out from foil blankets, or legs sticking out from blanket covered stretchers.  Please don't let that be me, not far now, come on. I love running, I love running - I DO NOT LOVE RUNNING. Ok, but just keep going!


Suddenly I was at mile 20, hang on, how did I get here, MILE 20! That's 20 miles. 20 whole miles. Cool. That wasn't so bad. Do you remember me saying how I thought I was going to regret all those times I didn't go running in the winter because it was cold etc? Surprisingly on the day, I just felt thankful for all those times I did go running. I guess I could have been one of those people in the tents, but no, I was at mile 20! 


I realised my legs could no longer stretch into a stride and I was forced to move into a sort of duck run. Little short steps, trying not to take my feet off the floor for long. It actually became easier to run for fast short bursts rather than to keep going for longer. 


At mile 22 my body seemed to wake up, actually these fast burst were rather fun, I weaved in and out of people, the crowd cheered 'go Becky go' (my name was on my running vest), it was lovely. I zoomed past tower bridge, right past mum and brother and almost missed friends, if they hadn't screamed so loudly. I'd have stopped and chatted but I wasn't going to let this energy boost go whilst I had it. Off I went to mile 24 and suddenly it was hard again. I knew some friends were around the 25 mile mark, so attempted to keep going. 


I was stuck next to a rhino at this point. I'd spent the first 5 miles with Mr Blobby and here I was, nearing the end with a bloody rhino. The crowds of course loved this, but it was a tad annoying when the crowds would go crazy and all you could hear was 'look a rhino'  you just can't help but take it personally. 

Finally the end was in sight. I crossed the line and awaited the tears. With all this build up I was expecting an emotional finish. Nope, no tears came but there was some more lucozade. What was surprising was how matted my hair was, I guess all that vaseline, suncream, water, energy gel, lucozade and 26.2 miles had got tangled in along the way.

Oh I didn't pooh my self either. I achieved all three goals for the day! Finish, not poohing my self, no dying.


Surprisingly at the end I wasn't tired, wasn't sweating, I was able to run up and down stairs and I had loads of energy. I guess this is what's know as the 'runners high'. My medal remained around my neck for the next 5 hours. When I finally got home, at about 10 that night, I peeled off my trainers. Although they hadn't hurt during the day, my toes had decided to grow a few little blisters, well I say little, apart from the giant one on my left foot. It was so big, it looked as if my toe had grown a Siamese twin!  

It took me 5 hours and 42 minutes, but I queued up for the toilet twice so that's got to add some time, right?! Three days later and my legs and bizarrely my shoulders hurt like hell. Stairs are the ultimate enemy! But it was worth it. It really wasn't that bad you know, the training and the stiff legs after are the worst bit, the actual day is quite fun. I feel slightly deflated now. Maybe I need a new challenge?

So there you are, we have come to an end. Thank you for supporting and taking the time to read these posts. 
Guess what, I still hate running! 
I still need to raise another £300 or I will have to rob a bank and pay it on my own. Please help.