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. 

I can, can I?

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. Repeat every ten seconds. Determination, come onnnnnnnnnn. I can do this. 

Last post before the big day. Throughout training I have read so many tips and heard so much advice. I know what isotonic drinks are for - to replace lost salts, I know to cover my entire body in an inch of Vaseline - so much so, that I reckon I could probably body slide my way to the finish if needs be. What I didn't read about was the emotional side. I've been like a walking time bomb this week. 

I like to think that I'm not a crier, I can sit through the 'notebook' and not a tear will glisten from my tear ducts! But this week it's all changed. I've been welling up all over the place! 

The stupid marathon people have put adverts up all over London, the last thing I need to see on the tube ride home is some 'inspiring' poem about how every blister counts, it just results in my eyes filling up with tears and body starting to shake. Luckily I've been pretty strong and managed to make it all the way to Saturday without any tears actually escaping from my eyes. 


On Thursday I went to the expo, the expo is located in London dockyards, to get there you have to get the Docklands light railway (DLR) which has no driver, so you can sit at the front of the train and pretend you are the driver, it's pretty damn exciting!

Any way, I got to the expo, sorted my number in no time and then had to walk through the exhibition to get out. It was terrifing! I felt like a little girl on her first day of school who's mum had just left, except I was surrounded by a million people kitted out in lycra. It was a futuristic world where everyone is super fit and wear spray on clothes to show off their toned bodies. I was a visiting alien and did not fit in at all! Despite a year of running, I have come to accept that lycra will never be my friend. All I wanted to do was sit on the floor and cry. I got the hell out of there as quick as I could, avoiding eye contact with the sporting gods as much as possible. I sat on the train home a miserable, shaking bubble of fear. 


I managed to hold the tears of fear at bay. However, because I had glandular fever in my late teens (that's mono to those of you in the US), my immune system is completely shot, for the first few months of running, my glands would burst out of my neck after every run. Just before the half marathon I picked up an infection, which I haven't been able to shift for 6 weeks now, finally trying to get to the doctor proved fruitless this week but I eventually found a clinic you could just walk in to. So, getting up early on a Saturday, I trekked across London to this walk in clinic, only for them to tell me it was full and I would have to make an appointment. For 3 weeks time! My eye lashes could no longer contain the tears and the dam burst, all over the waiting room. I was a snivelling, dripping mess. It was a lovely sight, the poor nurses didn't know what to do. All I could manage was to put my hands over my face and blubber an apology for my tears. On the bright side, they moved things around and made me an appointment for Monday. 

You know that feeling where you're waiting to do or hear about something that you don't want to do, the one that comes out of nowhere, which starts in the pit of your stomach and rises up, before catching like a lump in your throat? The one you get when you're about to do an exam, or get the results from that exam, or hear back from a job interview, or wait in the salon to get your legs waxed. Well that's what's been roller-coasting through my mind all week - the feeling, not the leg waxing that is. 


Speaking of leg waxing, I did get my legs waxed this week, I wouldn't want to be mistaken for running in a gorilla costume and I hear cyclist get their legs waxed before a big race to help them go faster - every little helps, right! 

Once I've eaten the worlds biggest bowl of pasta tonight and laid out my kit for tomorrow, there will be nothing left to do but try not to panic. I'm more terrified of tomorrow than I've ever been, even more than that time at university when I was convinced the alien from the film 'Signs' you know, the crappy Mel Gibson one, were sneaking around out side my room in the middle of the night, I'd have peaked out my doors spy hole to check if I hadn't been so frightened to leave the protection of my bed!

Let's just recap on the 3 marathon goals:
1. Get round
2. Don't poo my self
3. Don't die


Good, well I think we're all sorted then. Mum tells me it's not good form to try and climb on to the back of one of the wheel chair competitors - apparently that's frowned upon. 


Thank you to the extra sponsorship that has come in this week, I've updated the mile dedications on the last blog. If any one else from around the world would like to sponsor I would really appreciate it, it's for a great charity and I still have to raise a further £500. Here is the link: Yippeee you are sponsoring me!


I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. :)
  

Nearly there...

Well, we are almost there. The finish line is in sight, only 4 more days to go and it will all be over. Woohooo! 
Do you like how I say 'we'? It's almost like we've trained for this marathon together. Well I say that but I don't recall you joining me on those winter runs? You have however done an excellent job of supporting, so thank you very very much for all the kind words, advice, sponsorship and for putting up with my panic attacks and meltdowns. I really have appreciated it all and I hope I do you proud on Sunday. Ok, good, that's the mushy bit over with then. Right on to the running stuff.

My intention last week, was to do one more long run. Ummm, yeah, well that didn't happen. It appears staring out the window is much more appealing. I did go swimming twice and kayaking twice and on two very short runs, so I was active, sort of, I just didn't cover 16 miles of solid running. Ah well. Too late to worry now. AGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

I had a minor mental break down this week. You can not run in the marathon unless you have completed the registration process and picked up your runners kit and number. To get your number you have to visit a big exhibition. Now the big exhibition is only on for 3 days before the marathon. You have to turn up in person, with your ID and your registration form. The registration form arrives with the marathon magazine in mid March. Now as I understand it, if you do not have the magazine you do not have the registration form, if you do not have the registration form, you can not exchange it for your running kit and number, if you do not have your runners number you can not run. Guess what....I didn't receive the magazine! 

Queue a mini breakdown, midnight call to the mother, some slow breathing exercises, desperate calls and emails to my charity and I'm back on track. Apparently this can occasionally happen. All I need to do is go to the help desk and tell them my story. All should be fine. Should be fine. I'll let you know what happens when I go to the exhibition tomorrow night! If you hear about a crazy person running around London Docklands, you'll understand right? RIGHT?!

When I first started training, I was all sorts of levels of excitement. I read all the tips and blogs and books and stories of people who had done it. I was picturing how it might change my life, how I might learn to love running (I haven't), how I would get super fit and slim (nope) and how this might give me the confidence to do other, more exciting things (we'll see). One piece of advice stuck out though 'I name each mile after someone I admire, I'm sure as hell not going to give up on their mile'. I thought it might be fitting to name each mile after those who had sponsored me, I will try my very best not to give up on your mile. Here are my miles:

1. Me - well I thought I should do a mile for my self

2. Nicola and Sam (my first sponsors)

3. Mark, Sarah and JJ 

4. Mike and Ann

5. Georgina, Anouska and Clare K

6. Julia and Christine

7. Hannah and Si

8. Amy and Alison

9. Lucy and Fran

10. Chris and Alex M

11. Orry and Greg

12. Micky and Toby

13. Kellie

14. Laura and Claire C

15. Nick and Kali

16. Kat and Saph

17. Helen R and Cole

18. Alex and Xael

19. John and Andrew

20. Danyel

21. Kirree

22. Jess

23. Louise

24. Natalie

25. Helen W and Chavonne

26. Mum

26.2 All of you :)

Midges!

Can I have 3 more months please? 
I've spent a large proportion of this week trying to persuade boyfriend to take my place in the marathon, so far he is not budging, I've tried reasoning, I've tried bribery, I've even tried blackmail. Eventually I turned to violence. Even with my incredible ninja skills, he still refused to give in and is now in hospital. I however, am now single. 

Being the kind, generous person I am, I graciously offered my precious marathon place to various friends and family. All refused. I tried to give it to my mum for her birthday present, she laughed as if it were some kind of joke! 
What is wrong with people! I'm giving you the gift of running, ACCEPT IT!

Well there is one week to go. A week. One bloody week! Why didn't I go running all those times I was too tired, or cold, or hot, or bored, or catching up on episodes of Grey's Anatomy, why! I still haven't run more than 14 miles! And that was weeks ago!

Last weekend, instead of going on a 16 mile run, I went for a half an hour swim and then to the cinema (SuckerPunch). On Sunday, boyfriend made me go running with him. He lives in the hilliest place on earth! In less than 2 miles, I had managed to throw a hissy fit about the number of hills and refused to go on. So Monday, rather than attempt to run together again, we went to a theme park instead.

With the marathon dawning closer I realised I really did need to get a big run in, with a week off work and too many distractions in London town, I packed the car and went to my mums. Now mother just happens to live on a lake. Perfect for running around...or so I thought. 
Trainers on, headphones in, off I went for a 16 mile run. 

At 23 degrees, it was the hottest day of the year and much to my surprise, there were a million midges around! I must have swallowed whole colonies of flies. It was horrific. Plus I was so hot, I've never sweated so much in my life. I felt like I was running in a desert.

As there was no one around I thought I would cool my self down by chucking some water over my head. I've seen professional runners do this, it's the thing to do you know! In the words of Julia Roberts, 'Big mistake, big, huge actually!'. I've now learnt that midges like water. I had an entire country of midges stuck to my face! 

I made it 4 miles and then gave up. 
Fear not though, I'm aiming to get at least another 11 miles in before the end of this weekend, a short run mid next week and then I'm hoping to twist my ankle and won't be able to take part in the marathon for next weekend, oh no, wait, sorry, that's not the attitude, I mean I hope all goes well for the big run.