A tale of sacrificial buffs and over reliance on technology.

 I had a score to settle with this race.  Last year I had an awful time and had sworn that I would never enter it again.  That resolve lasted all of about 5 minutes as a friend threatened to snag my number if I didn't do it!  I wanted to run this year's event for fun.  At Paris in April  I had put myself under enormous pressure to run a sub 4 marathon, which for various reasons did not happen.  I was despondent and very self critical for a while.  Yesterday I decided that I was just going to go out and run - I gave myself permission to walk from the cones on 'Tourette's Hill' to the fence at the top if I wanted to.  I did not print a pace band as I did not want to feel I had a target to meet.

It was cold and raining when we arrived at the Cyclopark.  When I'd packed my bag I had relied on the BBC Weather forecast so had no rain jacket, thankfully I'd thrown a cap in at the very last minute, so it was sunglasses off and cap on.  I set off with the friend I ran with last year.  We chatted and ran, ran and chatted and, for me, the time was passing very pleasantly.  Not so for her unfortunately.  It turned out to be a reversal of last year - we parted company at about 11 miles again, having averaged around 8.50 min/miles, I left my friend by the personal drink station table we had set up and ran on alone.  It had stopped raining just before the start of the race and had become warm and humid but still overcast.  On one of the slight inclines of the lapped course there was a slight breeze which was lovely, after that it was a downhill towards two of the most amazing marshals ever - Neil and Les - I asked them to keep a look out for my friend and next time round was reassured that she was doing OK.  After this, on 20 consecutive laps, came Tourette's Hill.  Let me assure you, it is wisely named!  The stretch up to the finish area is slightly uphill - but enlivened by two aid stations, loads of supporters, including the most energetic, loud, curly haired girl on the bridge who was cheering and shouting out names as we passed below.

I was feeling good, I'd settled into a steady 9min/mile pace (according to my watch) that I was more than happy with and just settled down to keep on until the end.  In my mind I knew that 9 min/mile pace would give me just sub 4hrs, just enough sub 4hrs to allow, I hoped, for Garmin's notorious inaccuracy on lapped courses.  I slowed down a few times to check that other runners were OK - a friend from Basingstoke parkrun had lapped me a couple of times, so I was shocked when I lapped him.  We had a brief chat then, and I seem to recall that, later on, I walked backwards up a hill while asking him if he was ok!  I slowed again to help a lady who felt sick.  I say 'help,' what I actually did was stop, ask if she was OK, ask if she would like some water, gave her my water bottle and then ran on.  Half a lap later I remembered that it was my favourite water bottle and I had no idea who she was!

At some point the heaven't opened and we got a proper drenching!  I felt sorry for the supporters then as standing around in the rain is far more miserable than running in it.  I don't think it lasted longand after the rain we had bright, hot sunshine and a lot less humidity!  This is where having a personal drinks station was great - it meant I could change from cap to sunnies and back again without deviating from the route.  I was running and chatting and smiling and running - having a great time.  My right quad, which had been tight all week, was still tight, but that was more than countered by the pain in my left foot from the Morton's neuroma, so at least I was fairly balanced!   The new course, shorter laps but more of them, was great, the laps seemed to tick by very quickly.

There's a saying amongst long distance runners, 'Never trust a fart after 20 miles.'  With this in mind I took advantage of the conveniently located, track side, portaloos.   Too late I realised that there was no loo roll!  This was a bit of a catastrophe. I had a £10 note in my pocket (although I'd forgotten about that at the time) but there wasn't a scrap of anything remotely loo roll like anywhere to hand.  I considered sacrificing a sock - but with about 6 miles to go that seemed like the way to ensure blisters.  Then I saw my lovely, lovely White Star Running buff around my wrist.  Needs must etc.  I can buy a new one.  I have long thought that some one should make a buff which has a perforated strip along one end for just this sort of situation.

Back out on the road again, I found my legs had started to stiffen up a little during my comfort break.  I looked at my watch and figured I should be able to get sub 4 if I could just maintain my pace.  I realised too late (i.e. the end of my penultimate lap) that my Garmin was way off the mark and that I wouldn't be able to get back enough time in one lap!  According to Garmin, I passed the 26.2 mark in 3hrs 57min - but I still had a way to go.  I eventually got to the finish line in 4hrs 4mins and some seconds with my lying Garmin reading 26.9 miles.

Oddly, given how upset I was after Paris, I was not at all disappointed.  I'd set out to have a good time, not to run a good time.  I'd had a great time running with amazing people, supported by yet more amazing people and my time wasn't too shabby either!  It had been my most evenly paced marathon to date too, not perfect by any means - but there is no 18 mile dip in pace (this is normally where I get bored with the idea of running and my pace plummets).  So all in all a good day at the office.  I was given my humungous medal, my quirky goody bag, brand new and gorgeous buff (that will never be sacrificed!) bottle of beer and went to have my photo taken by the amazing Stuart, who can make a silk purse out of a sow's ear and me look halfway decent after a 26.2 miles.  Then it was time for a quick, painful, sports massage with a lovely student from the University of Kent before going back outside to chat and cheer and support other runners.

This is such a lovely race for chatting with and getting to know other people.  You see the supporters every time you go around the track, they feel like members of your family by the end.  If you are suffering they will give you a hug and a few words of encouragement to spur you on your way.  I remember thinking that the runners were all really considerate and polite.  There was lots of lapping going on, but there runners seemed to pass each other without any of the agro you sometimes see in big city races and, dare I say it, parkrun.

So, a HUGE thank you to all at tzruns, and to all the marshals and supporters, especially the girl with curly hair on the bridge.  You are all amazing and I had a great time.  Same again next year?   I can't wait that long, so will be back in Kent for the first Kent Coyote marathon in September.

How can you run your worst marathon ever but have the best running day of your life?

The answer to that question is quite simple.  Run a race organised by the amazing team at tzruns!  Brilliant pre race organisation which featured, but was not limited to, informative emails, choice of running number and booking of good weather, was complimented by an excellent venue, the friendliest and most welcoming volunteers at the start.  

I pitched up at the start to collect my race number and set up my personal drinks station.  I don't really know why I felt that I needed to do this as the food stations at tzruns events are excellent.  I didn't eat any of my bananas and only had a few sips of (warm) Lucozade, but it does make one feel a little bit like an elite athlete to have a bottle with your name and number on it.    After getting that sorted, pinning my number to my vest and going to the loo (twice) I passed some time chatting with friends.  Every race I go to seems to add a few more friends to my circle.  When I think back to my first race in 2010 where I knew no one I can't help but wonder why I ever went back for another race.  I turned up, ran and went home.  Now I seem to know so many people that it is a bit like going to a party!  I am, however, useless with names - so if I forgot anyone's name today, or looked a bit blank, just put it down to my aged brain not being able to cope with the sheer number of names I have to learn at work every year!  

At the start I felt fantastic.  I hadn't got any firm  goals for the day when I arrived, I was just going to see how it went.  The first few laps (of the 17) were great.   I was  ahead of where I needed to be to get a PB, well ahead.  I was smiling, confident and enjoying being back at  the Cyclopark.   I was eating up the laps, and really feeling for once as though I was born to run.    At 13 miles I was  still motoring.  It did briefly cross my mind that I had gone off too quickly - but I  still felt good, my legs felt fresh.    

Then something happened.  I couldn't feel my right foot or, I realised a bit later, the outside of my lower right leg.  I hadn't fallen, twisted it, or done anything that I could think might have caused the problem.  I slowed down a bit.  I got to the start/finish zone and sought out a running friend who was volunteering.  I wanted to get some reassurance.  MrB suggested that my shoe laces might be too tight, so I loosened them.  I could move my toes, I could feel if I applied pressure to my foot, it was just oddly numb, and was affecting my running.  I considered stopping, convinced I had injured it somehow.  I asked MrB what I should do.  He asked me what I wanted to do, I wanted to finish the race and get that bloody big medal!  "Well, get out there, but take it easy!"  We'd already worked out that I could walk the rest of the race and still not be the last finisher.  

I walked for a bit.  It was incredibly hard to walk when the rest of me felt so fresh and eager to run. I had a wee bit of a dip emotionally at this point, so gave myself a talking to.  I was kissing goodbye to a PB, so did it really matter now how long I took?  I realised that I could now approach this with a different mindset.  I could now chat to friends, pause and hug people and generally have fun.  And I did have fun.  When I managed to run my pace was still fast (for me!)  I still hated walking, but I soon realised that the heat had got to loads of people and there were many more walkers than runners in the final few laps.    

With 5 (I think) laps to go my walk a bit, run a bit, chat a lot strategy was working well.  Then my foot started to throb and itch.  I took my shoe off, expecting to find a putrid foot, or a the least some impressive bruising.  Nothing.  I looked again, and found a bite mark on the bottom of my foot and some swelling.  I can only think that something crawled into my shoe before I put it on and bit me part way through the race.  The relief at knowing I hadn't injured the foot I'd damaged 2 years ago  was great, but I was worried about causing any further injury with my strange running style.  As I got to the start area at the end of this lap I bumped into Sandra and asked if it was OK to leave the track to go and get some antihistamines, that was fine, so that's what I did.  Locating and rootling through my bag to get some drugs.  Sitting down part way through a marathon is not a good idea, getting going again was tough.  

I finished in 4hrs 48 minutes.  My slowest marathon ever but I still feel really positive about the whole day.  The first half of the marathon went so much better than I had hoped. I ran with some great friends,  the volunteers were supportive and enthusiastic, the organisation was faultless, the supporters were vocal and the bling is AMAZING!   I have no hesitation about signing up to run this again next year - in fact I am stalking the tzruns website so that I can sign up as soon as possible.   It is a real 'runners' marathon' - the support and camaraderie from all the runners, from the front runners to us slow coaches at the back is second to none, it shows the running community at its very best!

Kent Roadrunner Marathon

It all started a few months ago, Ian Berry of TZruns mentioned that he was organising a second 'Kent Roadrunner Marathon' and had I thought about signing up.  "Yeah right," I thought, "I really want to run 17 laps !"  I told Ian that I'd run his marathon if he let me have bib number 69.  I'd never heard  of people demanding their own numbers and getting them, so thought I was on fairly safe ground.  How wrong was I?  Ian said yes, and I was signed up.  I wasn't even sure where the race was taking place until someone told me it was 'near Bluewater!'

I travelled down to Gravesend yesterday afternoon, with a brief detour to Bluewater to pick up things I'd forgotten to pack (hair brush, FitFlops), and checked in to a Premier Inn.  As I checked in I asked what time breakfast would be served, 8am!  Far too late for me when the race was due to start at 9am.  Dinner was eaten with friends (who were celebrating their wedding anniversary).  It was a huge amount of food, and after catching up with friends and meeting new people, I toddled off to bed at about 10.30pm.  

Yesterday was surprisingly warm, and I was dreading a hot day today, but the sky was cloudy and the temperature was chilly as I arrived at the Cyclopark and parked my car close to the pavilion building before paying for parking, collecting my race number, timing chip and 16 wrist bands. The wrist bands were to save our poor addled brains having to remember how many laps we had run - a good plan as most runners come equipped with just 2 thumbs and 8 fingers so that counting beyond 10 would involve removing shoes and socks!  The system is quite simple, you start with 16, take one off every time you complete a lap and pass the start line, thus running your very last lap without a wrist band.  Simple really.  

We assembled for the start, there were announcements for birthdays, 100th marathons and then we were off.  The first 9 miles were fabulous, if a little too fast, but then I developed a shooting pain in my right foot.  I thought it was a blister, so took of my shoe and had a look, but nothing there... It was agony to put my foot down, still, at least it slowed me down to a more manageable speed.  I was ok-ish until about 17.5 miles.  Then it all got too much, it hurt a lot, and the idea of running round and round the track again and again lost its appeal!  Passing the finish line was pure torture - the temptation to stop was huge.  I walked through the water station each time I passed it, I detoured to the loo 5 times, I stopped for a chat with a friend who was marshalling.  "Is it OK if I stop?" I asked, she told me to do another lap and see how I felt, walking if necessary.  So that's what I did. 

Whilst I can't say I'm a convert to laps, they do have some interesting features.  You get lapped, and you lap others.  I was lapped by the first man at 4 miles into the race and the first woman after 6 miles.  It was good to see these speedy runners whizzing past, normally they are so far ahead that mere mortals like me don't get to see them.  Lapping other people was an unusual experience for me - and I lapped some people several times. It was a very friendly atmosphere, lots of banter between runners who knew each other well or had only just met.  My frequent loo stops confused people as I'd suddenly be behind them again and working to catch up!   17 laps also ensures that you become very familiar with every twist, turn and undulation!  A slope that you barely register on lap one becomes a mountain during the final few laps.  

I'd set out today aiming for 4hrs 20mins.  By 17 miles in I didn't care how long it took, I was just going to finish this thing.  I couldn't do the necessary maths to work out how I was doing.  At the beginning of the penultimate lap I worked out that if I could do each of the remaining laps in about 15 minutes I could still get my PB.  So I walked to the water station, had a couple of cups of water and set off at a gentle trot!  I was so thrilled to get rid of my last wrist band that I threw it to some friends in the crowd. Shedding that bit of weight obviously worked and I picked up the pace.  Suddenly I was running at sub 9min/mile pace.  I caught up with a runner who'd left me behind ages ago and we ran together for a bit, before I ploughed on leaving him behind.  I got to the top of the last steepish hill and walked for about 100m, I couldn't run... but my pace still stayed below 9min/mile pace.  I started running again as I turned the corner to the uphill slope to the finish, I kept pushing on, the last quarter mile shows a pace just over 8min/mile.  I've never been happier to see a finish line.  The gun time was 4:16:17, my watch showed 4:16:00 but whatever it was it was a 6+ minute PB after the toughest run I have ever had.  

The medal we were given is HUGE, ostentatious and heavy on a fabulous custom ribbon! I staggered back to the car with it round my neck, it really felt as though someone had moved my car... I'd parked close to the pavilion, but this walk to the car was taking ages!  Then a return walk to the pavilion with wallet to buy lunch and to pay for a massage.  It was lovely to sit around and chat with people I'd met during the run.  

After lunch I said my goodbyes and thanks to the lovely race marshals and to Ian and made my way home.  I did have to pull into a layby for a snooze at one point, but got home safely in the end.  I'm looking forward to seeing the race photos - the photographers were so friendly and encouraging!  As for tonight - an early night beckons!