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.

Salisbury parkrun inaugural

One week after gutting it out, quite literally, at the Kent Roadrunner Marathon I found myself at the inaugural Salisbury parkrun.  I had completed four short (3 - 4 miles) runs since the marathon and none of them had been enjoyable, comfortable or anything that could be described as speedy.  In a fit of madness I had even attempted to run up Brockham Hill.  The relief I felt when I reached the top was short lived when I realised how painful running down such a steep hill would be!  

Saturday, however, means parkrun day.  There was no option but to lace up my trainers and get on out there and try to run.  And Salisbury is relatively nearby - who needs a lie in on a Saturday morning when one could be gallivanting around the country for a 5k run?  I picked up two friends on the way and had left the short people behind so not only was I going to parkrun, I was going to have to actually make an effort.  

The weather was gorgeous.  Sunny, but with a bit of a breeze. We found the car park easily, met up with other parkrun tourists, found the loos, found the start, listened to a run briefing, made a rude comment to the race director from last weekend's marathon (OK, that was just me, my friends are lovely, well behaved and very polite).  

The course is three laps of Churchill Gardens, zigging and zagging around - there is no way I could retrace my steps again!  My legs hated all the corners and weren't too keen on all the grass either.  Those three laps seemed so hard, but we were supported by fabulous marshals,  including a large group of volunteers who waited near the start/finish to cheer the runners on.   Amazingly I managed not to get lapped, and was very relieved on my final lap to see the turn off for the finish.  I even put on a tiny bit of effort to get to the finish line - I regretted this as I had to try to maintain it over a longer than anticipated distance!   

The finish funnel was long and narrow - which meant that there was less chance of people overtaking each other after the finish.  The message about staying in order had obviously been taken to heart by some of the runners who were panicking about staying in order in the queue for scanning barcodes!  

Coffee afterwards was in the cloisters of Salisbury Cathedral.  To say that the view was better than my regular post parkrun coffee would be an understatement!  The coffee was good and the croissants were excellent.   I said the words 'penis' and 'vagina' and shocked an elderly couple walking past our table, which added to the general mayhem.  In my defence, it was a perfectly innocent discussion of when Yr7 should be taught the reproduction module of the KS3 science curriculum - I maintain that the first half term of year 7, when they don't know each other well enough to say these words out loud, is not the right time.  

All in all, a lovely event.  Flat as a pancake, but twisty and turny enough to make it interesting.  Go along and see for yourselves!  Huge thank you to the event team and all the volunteers who made this parkrun possible.  

The best laid plans!

I love my friends at tzruns!  They put on the best races, and I've had lots of fun running at their events at the Cyclopark, I've run races that I've been thrilled with  and races that I've been thrilled that I've managed to finish.  I know that, whatever the outcome, I have never regretted the decision to enter one of these superbly organised events.   Everything from the option to choose your own number to the random fancy dress, showboating competitions and professional photography included in the race entry adds to the fun and enjoyment.  This really is a race organised by runners for runners.

Arriving at the venue, I felt calm and relaxed and enjoyed chatting with friends.  The weather was warmish with a bit of a breeze and I couldn't wait to get going.  I had been feeling pretty ropey all week -  half term will do that to a teacher - and wasn't sure what to expect, but I set off with a friend and we ran at a pace where we were able to chat comfortably.  It was lovely to chat to her as I don't see that much of her as she live in the shadow of the Angel of the North!  We chatted and ran and ran and chatted and it was all going rather well.  We were averaging 8.44min/mile pace, it felt good, it felt easy.  It felt like I could run like this forever.

And then… And then something happened.  I have no idea what.  Was it the sun?  Was it nerves - I used to suffer from awful nerves to the extent that I would throw up before I had to speak to a group of people?  We may never know.  We were at about 11 miles in and I needed to be sick.  So I parted company with my friend and a pretty miserable time ensued!  I was sick a lot.  Even when there was nothing left to throw up my body tried to get rid of my stomach lining!  It seemed that if I tried to do more than take the smallest sips of liquid the result was catastrophic!

I am so grateful for the support of many friends.  I sat and cried with the support team from CPRC  who told me to remember that it was just one race.  I adopted a walk/run strategy, still throwing up with alarming regularity, but on a point of principle I decided that I would run up Tourette's Hill on all 17 laps!  (As an aside, I suggested a group of supporters who were just along from the top of the hill that their support might be more useful on the hill.  They were an amazingly vocal group of supporters and I can't thank them enough!)  I was astounded by the generosity and kindness of my fellow runners and supporters.  I burst into tears when people were nice to me!   I'd love to mention them all, but I'd forget someone!

I did finish the marathon.  4hrs and 32 mins  and some change.  There were some lovely memories: one of the loveliest people on the planet ran her first marathon (I wanted to run the last few laps with her, but really could not manage that), the fastest woman I know lapped me several times in a cow hat and cow print tights didn't get cross with me calling her a 'Fast Cow.'  There were some truly awesome marshals on the course - special mention must go to (in my friend's words) 'the two lovely gentlemen in the far corner!' who were wonderful!

I'm home now.  Via a drive in to London to pick up a stack of books.  I've walked 2 miles to get a curry  and have investigated to contents of my goodie bag - there's beer in there.  Tomorrow morning I may even be able to lift my rather large medal!

So what's next?  Well I have a few things planned, an off road marathon (yes, I am mad!) and a couple of shorter races, but the next big thing I am focussing on is the Royal Parks Foundation Half Marathon. I had a cracking race there last year, and have always loved this one!

Paris to Versailles

I'm not enjoying getting old!  My memory is playing tricks on me!  I was sure I'd last run Paris-Versailles in 2012 - I was so sure that I spent ages trying to look for my time in the 2012 results listing (tricky anyway on a mobile 'phone!)  I knew it was 1hr 26 mins and some change, and I also  knew I wasn't anywhere near fit enough to come close to that time at the moment.  When I ran that time, in 2011 it turns out, I was running really well!  I got PBs at every distance I ran that year.  I think the fact that I only started working at the beginning of September that year may have had something to do with me being more focussed on training!  

So, after a longer break than I remembered we were going back to Paris for the race with that hill!  We travelled to Paris on Saturday morning, arriving with plenty of time to pick up our race numbers and look at the stalls at the expo.  I was beginning to have doubts about my choice of running kit.  It was really warm in Paris and I had brought a t shirt to run in.  I had a look at the clothing on offer, and while it was possibly to buy obscenely short running shorts there was not one single running vest on offer because they were all showing off their autumn and winter stock.  So I would be wearing my lovely Kent Roadrunner top, as would Husbando!    Neil, who were were staying with and who had hoped to run with me in 2011 but ended up running by himself in 2013, was running with us - he had to make do with the rather nice, but much more subdued, official adidas race shirt!  My KRR top was admired by a French lady - who informed me that I must be American because I was wearing 'such a shirt.'  No amount of denial by me would convince her that I was English!

Race morning dawned bright and sunny, we had breakfast, got our stuff sorted out and headed for the station to get the train to central Paris.  In contrast to 2011 my mood was good - we chatted and laughed and talked about our goals.  Neil wanted to do better than last time, Husbando was planning to run with me, and was hoping we could run sub 1hr 30.  My A goal was sub 1hr 30, my B goal was getting round in one piece.  We were joined by a growing throng of runners - always reassuring to know that we were going in the right direction.  At Champ de Mars I sent the boys off to check the bags while I queued for one of those 'tardis loos' - the ones that self clean between each user.  I reckoned that, by the time I got to the end of the queue I might need a wee!  From there we made our way towards the start and took some photos with a famous Paris landmark in the background.  

There are no starting pens at this race, and with 25,000 entrants we thought we ought to make our way to the start areas where runners were gathering.  There was a constant commentary from the, very loud, PA system.  I understood about 60% of what he was saying.  I didn't think we were too far back from the start.  We tried to chat over the PA, and ignored the nonsensical warm up ("Jump up and down on the spot to raise your heart rate").  I was struck by the number of runners who were kitted out as though they were about to embark on an ultra.  Whilst a 10 mile race might be a good time to try out kit that you are considering using on a much longer race I don't think that it is possible that all the people we saw with Camelbaks were ultra runners, and nearly every other runner was wearing a race belt stacked with enough gel packs to feed an army.  One bloke had 12 gel sachets (yes, I am that sad, I did count them!)  TWELVE!  That is more than one per mile!  I can't imagine eating that much gel without wanting to throw up at some point.  

At 10.00am the elite runners went off, followed by waves of us mere mortals going off at 1 minute intervals.  We crossed the line at 10.17!  The first male was nearly half way through his race by then (he finished in 47mins 42 seconds).  While I was waiting I looked up and took a photo of the Eiffel Tower - I note that I took an almost identical photo last time I was here.  We were the last to be allowed through in our wave - Husbando had to say, in his best school boy French, that I was his wife in order to be allowed in.  We crossed the line and suddenly all my nerves and uncertainties faded away, I forgot my niggling sore throat and remembered why I was here.  I love to run!  I really just do.  Off I went with a huge smile on my face.  I knew I was going too fast but I didn't care!  I knew that I'd slow down later, but it felt fantastic to be moving!

Husbando had been talking about a wee stop from before the start - the queues had been to long before the start, so he joined a row of men peeing against a wall before we got the the first kilometre marker.  I carried on.  It was crowded and I had to constantly change direction to plot my way through.  Husbando caught me up at about 3k in.  It is very flat for this section, but in the back of my mind I knew that the hill was coming!

The hill came.  Husbando is much better at hills than I am, I told him to go on ahead - as to be honest the thought of him stopping every so often to wait for me to catch up was very depressing.  I plodded on.  The hill isn't hugely steep but it is very long.  At several points you think you much be at the top, but you aren't - there is more, and some of it is on cobbles.  I may have been slow, but I kept going and was even overtaking people.  A new addition to the signage this year was one saying that we were at the highest point of the run.  Lovely, there was still another uphill section that I could recall, but for now it was time to recover, get my breath back, get my legs moving again and fly down hill.

It was never easy going.  There were so many slow runners in the 16 start waves ahead of me that it was a constant case of weaving in and out.  There was a distinct lack of running etiquette - no moving to one side before slowing down, people just stopped in the middle of the road!  And faster runners used their elbows to warn that they were approaching!  The water stations, however, were well placed and the volunteers cheerful and friendly.

At around 14km I had a real conversation, in French, with some fellow runners.  There was one of those traffic signs that calculates the speed of approaching vehicles and it was picking up the speed of the runners.  It was fluctuating between 9, 10 and 11kph,  I announced that I wanted to get it to 12 - and with lots of cheers and encouragement from those around me I did it!  A much needed burst of speed!

Soon I was approaching Versailles along the Avenue de Paris, looking left and right to see if Husbando was watching.  I knew I had my sub 1:30 in the bag, so now I was just seeing how fast I could get to the end.  I crossed the line, stopped my Garmin, and saw Husbando waiting for me.  I'd run 1:26:41 - I was amazed.  Was it a PB?  It would be close…. Checking my records I found I had missed a PB by 20 seconds.  Which is gutting, but there are positives to be drawn.

When I do this race again I will get there earlier and hopefully get a clearer run.  When I ran my 10m  PB there in 2011 I was having an amazing year, this year has been a bit naff really and I don't feel anywhere near as fit as I did then - so hopefully I can take a few more seconds off my time.   And above all, we had a great time.  We spent time with friends, we ran in the sunshine and collected a medal.  What more could one ask for?

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!

Biting off more than I can chew?

Apparently it is good to challenge oneself from time to time.  I am not a huge fan of pushing myself too hard, or doing things that I don't think I'll be very good at so I spend a lot of my life playing it safe.  Until yesterday I had never entered a race having no idea if I would be able to finish or not, and this should have been the same.  It should have come almost midway between two marathons and represented a challenge, but not a mountain that I wouldn't be able to climb.  So what was this race?  Well, there were several races happening at the same time, the National 50k and 100k and the 2014 Anglo-Celtic Plate competition all superbly organised by the wonderful team at tzruns.  I wanted to run the 50k, but being a total novice and having no idea how long this would take me I entered the 100k with the knowledge that I could drop down to 50k on the day.  This gave me a longer cut off time, and a much earlier start time.

My running this year has not been great.  I dropped out of the Brighton marathon as I was just too tired.  Not injured, not unwell, just well and truly worn out at the end of a long school term.  The thought of getting to Brighton was exhausting enough without having to run 26.2 miles once I got there.  I've struggled with anything approaching speed work, and my long slow runs have been shockingly slow and not actually that long.  The furthest run I'd done this year was a horrible run at Bramley and I was about to set out to run 31miles.  I felt entirely unprepared, unsure of what to expect, almost certain that I would make an utter fool of myself.

Husbando drove me to the Cyclopark in Gravesend early on Saturday morning.  I was somewhat intimidated when I saw the England, Wales and Scotland teams, resplendent in their national strips, getting ready for the race.  Who on Earth was I to think I could run with these athletes?   There were friendly faces to meet and greet, not least 'Team Brassington' and the amazing race organiser Ian Berry and the inspirational Sandra Bowers.  But, boy, was I nervous!  I set up my drinks and snacks in the designated area, used to loos, pinned on my race number, and made my way to the start.  I was starting with people who were planning to run 100k.  This made me feel even more of a fraud.

The atmosphere on the start line was very friendly, vaseline was passed around, people were chatting about other races etc. etc.  The horn went and we were off.  I repeated my 'start slow' mantra in my head, but pretty much ignored that!  I'd planned on starting out at 10min/mile pace, but fell into step with 2 blokes and we were running 9min/miles and just under, but it felt comfortable.  We were chatting away and enjoying the early morning (8am start) sunshine.  We were lapped at the end of our second lap by the amazing Steve Way and Pieter Vermeesch.  They looked as though they were out for a gentle jog - making it look so easy.  The second time Steve lapped me I said 'Two' under (I thought) my breath.  Steve laughed and I said I intended to keep count.  When I missed a number he commented and I admitted that I'd lost count, but that I was now more familiar with his backside than my own!  (And it was an amazing backside!)  He laughed and after that didn't fail to make a comment every time he lapped me on his way to breaking the British 100k road record.  What a lovely man.

The support was amazing.  Running laps means that you pass the finish area a lot - and the supporters really worked hard, handing out drinks, snacks and encouragement.   I can't believe how many people were cheering little old me on!  How did they all know my name? I'd love to be able to thank each and every one of them!  At one point a new face appeared in the crowd, cheering me on!  One of my online running buddies from Fetch Everyone had popped by to see how I was getting on.  That was an amazing boost.   I'd love to publicly thank every single marshall and supporter - you were amazing yesterday.

The running itself was going surprisingly well.  I felt no pressure to run in a certain time, I'd set myself an a, b and c target, but knew that I'd be happy to finish the 50k.  At 12 miles I was running past the feed stations and saw that the people who were running the 50k had started to arrive.  I was relieved to see the friend who a) bullied me into doing the race and b) was going to drive me home!  I stopped for a minute or two to grab something to eat and say hello.  My right hamstring felt a bit tight, but nothing that I couldn't cope with and I felt comfortable and happy.  

I set off again making a concerted effort to run more slowly.  I'd run over 18 miles before the main 50k runners started.  It was somewhat disconcerting to be overtaken at such speed by those on fresh legs, but it meant that there were new people to chat with!  At 21 miles I started to get awful stomach cramps.  I grabbed some salty crisps to try to counter this, but at 25 miles the world fell out of my bottom (thank heavens for the loos on the course!) Still, I'd got this far and a little bit of runner's tummy was not going to stop me now.  I thought back to the last time I'd run at the Cyclopark - last year's Kent Roadrunner Marathon,  that had felt a lot harder.  I'd ended up walking up Tourettes Hill after about the 13 lap, and yesterday I ran up it every time.  I was also aware (not just because everyone kept telling me, but also because my face ached) that I was smiling a lot!  I couldn't believe that I was actually doing it!

That said, there was an amazing sense of relief when I started my last lap (24 laps in total). I tried to put on a bit of a sprint finish, but I think I was just about out of energy by then - I did have a huge smile on my face though - as you can see from this short video clip, and the cheesy grin in this photo!  I finished in 5hrs 17mins and some seconds.  Ahead of my a) target of 5hrs 30.  My c) target was that I wanted to finish my 50k before Steve Way finished the 100k!  

After a quick shower and inspection of the rather alarming tan lines I was back at the finish area to cheer on the rest of the runners.  Such amazing runs from so many people.  I also got to put names (and voices!) to faces that I only know via the internet, which was lovely.   I got to see one of the guys I had run with at the very start finish too.  He dropped back to 50k after having 'a bit of a shite run' (as he put it). 

So, what a day!  Would I do it again?  I don't think so.  It was fun, but I am completely and utterly drained today.  I haven't even got the energy to feel hungry.  But then again, never say never!  My legs feel better today than I thought they would - I'm about to test them by assembling the new lawn mower and having a go at taming the savannah like grass in the front garden... if you don't hear from me for a while please do send a search party.

Thanks to everyone at tzruns who made it happen, to every single supporter and marshall and to all the other runners who made this such a special day.  

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!