Of knock knees and beautiful bling

It was the first Sunday of the half term break.  This was a break that I had been looking forward to for what seemed like a millennium.  I was so tired  towards the end of  the half term that the temptation to fall asleep while standing up in front of a class was hard to resist.  So why was the alarm ringing at 4.30am on a Sunday?  Because I had decided that I'd rather sleep in my own bed than travel down and stay in a B&B.  It didn't seem like such a good idea as Husbando and I blearily got ourselves organised and into the car and, picking up friends on the way, set off towards Dorchester.  

We'd all pretty much decided that we needed a McDonalds breakfast an a coffee for breakfast, and we knew exactly where we would stop.  The disappointment we felt when the McDs at Ferndown was closed for renovations was huge.  How could this be?  Did they not know we were depending on them? How would we manage now? We were starving!  Husbando had taken the car to be valeted the day before, so there wasn't even the chance of finding a lost chocolate bar or packet of crushed mini cheddars under one of the seats.  There was nothing for it but to head on into the wilds of Dorset and hope that there would be food available somewhere! 

Our detour to the (closed) McD's had cost us a few minutes. Minutes that meant that we arrived on the outskirts of Dorchester just after 7am.... which was the time that all the road closures kicked in and we were told that the signs had 'been up all week' and that 'closed means closed.'  After a couple of false starts, a look at the map and the race instructions, we decided that the only way to get to the race start was to just drive through the road closure signs - much to the annoyance of the people setting it up!  Luckily we had plenty of time - I do hate cutting things fine!

We arrived at the 'Athlete's Village', parked the car, faffed about a bit, grabbed a coffee and, thank goodness, a bacon roll!  As is normal at a White Star Running event, there were lots of familiar faces to greet and chat to, we picked up out yellow ribbons to wear as a mark of respect to all those affected by the events in Manchester last week  and pretty soon it was time for the two of us running the marathon to say goodbye to our other halves (aka, throw our hoodies at them for them to stow in the car) and head to the start line.  

Standing near the back of the 700+ strong field of runners, I have to admit I didn't hear a word of Andy's run briefing, but the Town Crier, in full costume, stood on a cherry picker and sent us off with a rousing speech.  My plan was... well I really don't know what it was.  Suck it an see?  The weather was hot and humid, but overcast at the start and for the first 5 or 6 miles I was having a great time.  It was very pretty, lovely villages (mostly with a name that included 'piddle' or 'puddle' but 'Tincleton' was my favourite name), gentle undulations and great scenery! I began to think I would be on for a reasonable time.  But then my knee went wonky.  It had been a bit 'owy' on the previous day, but I'd put that down to pre-marathon jitters.  Suddenly my right knee felt as though it wanted to bend the wrong way.   Should I stop?  Probably.  Did I stop?  Well, what do you think?

I decided to run until I got to 13 miles and then run/walk the rest of the way.  I saw a few familiar faces as I plodded around.  I played leapfrog with several runners, especially when I was running 9mins walking then walking a minute, but soon people weren't catching me up anymore even when I was walking - even though I stopped to chat at every aid station and the love station.  Lord Badger got upset because I 'molested' him (his words for a big sweaty hug) and didn't hang around for a badge!  To be honest it almost hurt my knee more to walk than to run, but my hamstring was tightening up (to support my knee) when I was running! In fact, the whole right side of my body was tensing up so much that even my hand was aching!  

At 23 miles there came a totally unnecessary and rather rude hill.  It was about a mile long.  Not overly steep, and really quite runnable in normal conditions.   But I felt as though the right hand side of my body was ever so slightly broken and did I mention it was hot?  Very hot, sunny and unpleasantly humid.  At this point I fell into step with some other runners who had decided not to run up the hill - so it seemed rude to run when they were walking.   The 24 mile marker (yes, mile marker at a WSR event!) was a very welcome site.  I knew that I was suffering but that 'no more than 4 more miles' was more than achievable!  I refused to be lulled into a false sense of security by believing that this would be a traditional marathon distance, but low and behold, as I ran downhill and past the 26 mile marker I could see (and hear!) the finish. I overtook a few people who had been just ahead of me for most of the race, and then had to really push it to the finish to make sure they didn't come back past me, the finish was great - the last 100m was lined with supporters.  Someone called out my name (or rather a variant of it that was used on the parkrun show - I didn't see who it was, but thank you!  And Husbando was sitting on a wall by the gate to the finish area to see me home.  I picked up the pace and lengthened my stride (my last .3 of a mile was sub 8min/mile pace) and threw my aching body over the finish line.  The WSR team gave me my rather super medal and lovely t-shirt and I hobbled back to meet my friends.  My time was 'Ok - considering.'  Husbando had run the half marathon and had an awful race.  He'd hurt his knee 4 weeks earlier, and decided to switch from the full to the half for his reason.  He'd run the first 6.5 miles in 44 minutes, and then taken 1hr45 mins to complete the rest - his knee just locked up totally.  To counter this our little group also had a massive PB - a time of 3hrs51mins which was also his first sub 4hr marathon. 

All in all it was a excellent race, well organises, great race village, awesome aid station and wonderful route.  Can we do it all again next year please?

Take the slow train.

When I signed up for this event, I hadn't got a place at the London Marathon, so I wasn't at all concerned about running it three weeks after Paris.  I'd taken part in last year's event, which was On the Whistle's first event, and had a really lovely time, churning out 35 miles in the 6hours available.  There was never any doubt that I'd be on the start line, but what came next was more uncertain.

As with last year, Husbando came too.  We parked the car, bumped into one of my very favourite running people, who is injured at the moment.  He was totting his camera and accompanied by his dog.  We collected our numbers, stowed our bags in the tent, chatted with friends and waited for the whistle to send us off on our way.  We were in good spirits and the first half mile was uneventful.  That's right, the first half mile was uneventful.  Suddenly Husbando was on the ground.  He'd gone over on his ankle.  I stayed with him for a while - it didn't look good, and he told me to go on.  After checking that he could stand up, and bear weight on his leg, I did just that.  I stopped to tell the marshal at the turnaround point to keep an eye out for him and, as we were chatting, I saw Husbando approaching, so I waited for him.  We bimbled on together, Husbando's ankle and knee were not good, but he persevered and very nearly ran 4 laps, pulling up about three quarters of the way around lap 4 and walking the last bit to qualify for his half marathon medal.

I continued on, I adopted a run 9mins, walk 1min strategy,  interspersed with stops to feed my face at the aid station.  I have strict rules about my run/walk strategy.  If the 1min walk coincides with a downhill stretch then you miss the walk break and carry on running until the next scheduled walk break.  This wasn't really relevant today as the course was pretty flat.  Another rule is that, if I miss the start of the minute walk then it is forfeit and I carry on until the next walk break.   I skipped quite a lot of walk breaks, some of them to make up for spending too long at the aid station, others to try to catch up with a runner I fancied chatting to, and to avoid being lapped by a friend!  

I do love an event where I get to see so many friends and so often!  It is even better when the weather is kind, which it was for most of the day.  The forecast had threatened rain from about 11am, but it remained dry right up to then end of my 7th lap (8 were needed for a marathon).  I am pretty certain that, had it been raining from 11am the distance I covered would have been greatly reduced!  As it was I finished my 24th marathon, 5th this year and 3rd in April in 4hrs44mins.  Strava tells me my moving time was 4hrs 21 - which sounds about right as I did spend a lot of time faffing about.

Huge thanks to On The Whistle for another great event!  I'm off to put my feet up!

London marathon, a tale of snot rockets, kittens and royalty.

You know that bit in any race instructions that says 'do not race if you feel unwell, have a flu type cold or an injury?'  Does anyone ever pay that any attention?   I nearly did.  At 7.50pm, having struggled to walk the length of Shaftesbury Avenue while wheezing and coughing, I sent out a desperate plea, via Facebook, asking if it was possible to defer a charity place... I had 9 minutes to make the decision, if a deferral was possible.  The responses I got were of the 'Man up, cupcake!' variety, with a side order of, 'No you can't defer charity places.'  So it was off to bed with a dose of paracetamol for me.

Husbando and I were staying in London so at least we wouldn't have to get up at sparrow fart in order  for me to get to Greenwich Park for the start.  As an added bonus, the hotel we stayed in had decided to start their breakfast service early so that the marathon runners could eat before heading off.  I felt grim, couldn't taste my breakfast and swallowing toast felt like swallowing razor blades, but the only option I had was to run.... A 10am start to the race made for a leisurely start to the day.  It felt odd travelling to the start by myself - but there were plenty of other runners to chat to.  The Red Start was enormous, but once I'd located the loos, the baggage wagons and the start pens I was much happier.  The loo queues were something else!  From the end of the queues the loos weren't even visible!

It took me 10 minutes to cross the line and a nice steady pace was enforced by the sheer volume of runners all around me.  From the start there were people lining the route and cheering us on.   The red starters don't merge with the blue runners until about 3 miles into the race.  I think the blue runners may have crossed the line faster than us, as suddenly I felt we were amongst runners who were at a slower pace, which added to the congestion.  It was good natured though, yes there were collisions between runners (I doubled up in agony after an elbow caught me awkwardly) but there was none of the ill mannered pushing and shoving that I experienced in Paris two weeks ago.  The weather was fabulous at the start, sunny but not too hot, but I had no expectations of running a good time.  For one, it was hugely busy, and for another thing I felt grim!  In my mind I planned to run the first half, hopefully see Husbando there for a quick chat, and then run 9mins and walk 1min for the rest of the race.

As it was, I saw Husbando with the Fetchpoint guys at around 14 miles, but there were on the other side of the road with the fast runners already coming back, so I plodded on!  At some point, I think about 16 miles, I did drop down to the 9/1 strategy, but got bored and managed to blast out two fast miles (8.02 and 9.09 minutes).  There was no way I could manage to run that fast for much longer today, but I wanted to see if I could manage it. Probably a silly thing to do, but it was fun.

I'd been anticipating that Canary Wharf would be quiet, and was quite looking forward to a respite, but there were crowds EVERYWHERE!  The noise was intense at times, the only quiet(ish) sections were in the tunnels.  I chatted to a few other runners, at one point telling everyone around me that I'd just had kittens!  It isn't often that you get a text with the single word KITTENS while you are running a marathon.  Another time, while talking, briefly, to a friend who was speeding ahead, a man said 'I just want to thank you for running for Treloar's - my son is starting there in September.'  He was running for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy and (I think) wearing a cape.  There were very few of us running for Treloar's so the chances of the two of us bumping into each other were tiny.

At around 22 miles I was back at Fetchpoint to say hello to everyone, scarf down some cocktail sausages, hug Husbando and thank that Fetcheveryone community for the generous fundraising donation that made my run possible.  There was not far to go now, but after being virtually spot on for the first 9 miles, my Garmin was wildly out now,  it was reading up to half a mile more than the markers on the road said I'd run, and it seemed to me that the difference was just increasing as time went on.  I'd been hearing 'Toria' screamed at me almost constantly, so when I heard 'Victoria' shouted at around 25 miles I figured that it must be someone who actually knew me... I turned and saw a familiar face, ran back (not far - only a couple of metres) and gave him a hug.  I then realised that, yes I did know him, but possibly giving your Head of Year a hot and sweaty hug is not quite the done thing!  Sorry!  Still, it cheered me up no end to see him, and then another parkrun friend a few hundred yards later.

Suddenly we were running past the Houses of Parliament and the end was nearly here.  But, boy, Birdcage Walk is long!  I think it is longer than when I ran the Westminster  Mile there!  My impression is that I was overtaking more people than were overtaking me.  I certainly didn't give it my all today, I couldn't as I had a head full of snot and cotton wool, but the run did give me back a little of the confidence I have lost over recent races.  As we rounded the top of Birdcage Walk and ran past Buckingham Palace I picked up my pace a bit.  I could see the finish line.  And then it was over.  I'd done it.  Not my best marathon, by a long way, about half an hour slower than I wanted to be, but over 15 minutes faster than two weeks ago in Paris, without feeling as though I've worked anywhere near as hard!

I trundled through the process of getting medals, t-shirts and retrieving my kit bag.  I'd got my medal and walked (hobbled?) on when the woman behind me squealed.  I turned back and realised that the bloke handing out the medals, who had looked a little familiar, was Prince William!  Now that is a selfie opportunity I well and truly missed!  As I passed the baggage lorries I saw friends from my local running club - fabulous to say hello!

I made my way back to the hotel, Husbando had organised late check out, so I could have a shower and change before driving home.  What a brilliant idea that was!  All in all, a brilliant day out!

Huge thanks to everyone who has donated to Treloar's Trust, donations are still welcome... https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/MrsBridgewater1?utm_medium=email&utm_source=ExactTarget&utm_campaign=20170303_96877

Larmer Tree Marathon

Today was a lesson in respecting the marathon distance.  I may have run a few now, but there is no place for becoming complacent about what is, by any stretch of the imagination, quite a long way to run.  I've had a few tough runs recently, culminating in the aptly named 'Plod' two weeks ago, but I was quite excited about today.  As excited as you can be when you are exhausted and overworked and still trying to sort out the house you moved into a few weeks ago.

I'd run the 20 mile race at Larmer Three Gardens last year.  And while I was running that I seem to remember thinking that it was silly to run 20 miles when there was a 26 mile option available, so that is what I signed up for, fool that I am.  The weather forecast was not promising, so we arrived with loads of layers, waterproofs. hats etc.  Numbers were collected.  Mine was so wrong it was almost right.

It is quite a long time since the last White Star Running event down in Bovington, so it was lovely to see all the regular characters.  We chatted away as we waited for the start.  I was on the look out for peacocks, while at the same time realising that the peacock leggings I was wearing were not the same, very comfortable, Tikiboo pair that I wore last year.  I have no idea where they were from, but they will not be worn again.  One of the many things you are told when you start training for marathons is that you should not wear something during a marathon that you have not road tested for a good few miles beforehand.  This oversight would come to bite me on the bum a few miles into the run.

The start was lovely, apart from the weather!  Damp and drizzly.  It was down hill and on tarmac, this was going to be ok.  I got to the first water station at about 6 miles feeling relatively confident and making fairly good time.  Within 2 miles that had all changed.  It was tough going, but not unrunable at this stage, the ground was either very slippery or very sticky.  At times it was like running over a huge tube of Prit Stick, it took lots of effort to even life feet off the ground.

By 8 miles I was walking along a totally flat path, sobbing.  Really sobbing, and just feeling a huge sense of despair.  And that was before I saw The Hill.  At least this was a reason to walk!  Or stagger...  From then on I think I did more walking than running.  To be fair, there were loads and loads of people walking.  It was hard to motivate myself to run when there were so many people walking all around me.  I had blisters on my insoles, from trainers that have never rubbed before and chaffing where no one ever wants chaffing from the evil leggings, which only added to my misery!  I chatted with lots of lovely people, who made the whole day bearable - bizarre conversations about conspiracy theories not withstanding.

The route was varied, we ran though pretty villages, lovely woods and across fields with stunning views, the marshals and aid stations were supportive and enthusiastic.  The Love Station was fantastic as always - a much needed hug and dose of MTFU was administered here, along with handfuls of mini sausages, pretzels and jelly babies!  From here it was 'just' 6 long miles to the finish.  One hair raising descent and a long slog uphill were involved, but the end was in sight.. almost.  The trademark '400ish yards to go' sign came and went and all that was left was a nasty gravelly path, past a folly to the finish.  I managed to overtake a fair few people as my desperation to get this ordeal over and done with manifested itself.  I crossed the line and was given a medal and a hug, by one of the regular WSR team.  She has been at every event I have done, and always greets me with a smile and a hug- I really wish I knew her name!

After sitting down on a conveniently placed chair and getting my breath back, I went to get my lunch (included in the entry price) while the three of us who had travelled down together reassembled and rehydrated before the journey home.

Thank you to the team from WSR for an excellently organised event.  I promise to be in a better mood next time...

Make a plan and then stick to it!

Today was my first visit to Hayling Island.  It is always slightly worrying not to be able to see anything at the other end of a bridge, and this was exactly what happened as I drove onto the bridge over to Hayling Island.  It wasn't even a long bridge - but all I could see in front of me was mist!  I hadn't thought too much about where this race was located when I booked it.  The guys at On the Whistle put on great events, and that is all I really need to know, this meant that I didn't realise that it was to be a trip to the seaside!  The run was on the Billy Line, consisting of out and backs, as many or as few as you fancied completing.

My training plan, aimed at the Paris marathon, required me to run 9 miles today, which would have been a smidge over 2 laps, so obviously a new plan was required.  I decided that I would run 9 miles and then adopt a run/walk strategy until I felt like giving up.  The tough thing was to stop running at 9 miles when I still felt as though I could go on for ever!  But I did.  I also managed to stay relatively on track with my run/walk breaks - they sometimes varied a bit when I stopped or slowed down to talk to another runner.  I think I finished in about 4hrs 30mins, maybe 4hrs 3mins - I was feeling so ropey that I was concentrating on staying upright rather than important things like stopping my Garmin!

The run itself was much tougher than I'd anticipated!  This was a very flat course, but also, due to the rain, very muddy.  We ran the first couple of laps with very limited visibility, the mist and/or rain ensured that we were pretty soggy pretty quickly, and the lack of obvious landmarks on the route made it somewhat soul destroying!  The fact that I was pleased to see a white fertiliser bag in a puddle is an indication of how desperate I was for familiar points to judge how far I had to go!  The visibility remained poor throughout the time I was running - I didn't get to see the sea!   Who'd of thought that I might actually welcome a couple of hills to break up the monotony?! And I decided very early on that a marathon distance would be enough for today.  The idea of setting out for a 7th lap made me want to weep!  During my 5th and 6th laps it was only the thought of McDonalds that kept me going.  I can only have McDs if I have run a full marathon, so I had to keep on going!

It was lovely to see old friends and speak to new people, but the weather was a huge negative today.  Not epically bad enough to inspire a blitz spirit, just a constant drizzle and limited visibility.  I can't fault the organisation, or the enthusiasm of the On The Whistle team - it isn't every race you go to where one of the organisers comes up to you with your own personal bag of Tangfastics -surely the crack cocaine of the sweetie world!   The medals and aid station were fabulous, the marshals friendly and enthusiastic, I just wasn't enjoying the rain! Still as a training run for Paris and London, it is all good! Hoping to get to my Treloar's Trust/London fundraising total before I run the race!

Bovington marathon

Signing up for a marathon in December seems such a good idea in June or July.  The weather is sunny (ish) and dry (ish) and it seems incomprehensible that you could ever need long running tights and gloves while running.  But I had signed up for yet another marathon.   This latest offering from White Star Running was a bit different, the location was on and around the tank ranges at Bovington with a medal that celebrates the 100th anniversary of the tank.

Last Sunday was freezing cold, and I was beginning to panic about a long, cold marathon, yesterday was mild but it rained all day and I began to worry about over 5 hours of running in the rain.  I was not filled with joy at the thought of leaving the house at 6am to drive down to the Tank Museum at Bovington - I was hugely grateful to be given a lift so all I had to do was relax and enjoy the ride, in the fog.

We arrived in good time, even after a McDonald's stop for coffee and loos, we parked the car within about 20 metres of the start, and went to use the loos in the restaurant of the Tank Museum (which looks awesome and well worth a visit) before returning to the start for the race briefing.   There can't be many race briefings where you are told, 'If you see something that looks like a grenade don't pick it up because there is a good chance it is a grenade!'

A little bit of mud to squelch through

And then we were off.  I decided to run with the guys I'd travelled down with.  This running races with another person is quite a novelty for me and I have to say that the miles fairly flew by!  The first few were flat and not too wet - just one river to wade through - or avoid by queuing to go over the rickety bridge.  After that it got a bit bumpy, nothing too steep (although some of the downhills were a little precarious) with all sorts of different surfaces under foot from concrete (not much of this at all) through woodland floors deep in in pine needles and fallen leaves to mud.  Lots of mud.  And puddles.  We christened one area the Lake District as the puddles were so huge and numerous.  We were having lots of fun.  The aid stations were well positioned but, with the notable exception of the Lovestation (more on that later) I didn't think they were quite up to the usual White Star Running standard.  At about 16 miles (I think) we ran down a hill, each of us commenting that we were feeling a bit peckish.  Our spirits listed when we saw an aid station... and mine fell again when I realised that the only food had nuts in.    This was when I regretted my decision not to carry any snacks with me.

The right stuff?

At some point someone had moved one of the signs, which resulted in us taking a little detour.  This meant that we got to meet a load of the half marathon runners who told us we were on the wrong track so we retraced our steps and found the correct route. We ran past Monkey World - and saw monkeys playing on their climbing frame.  They weren't impressed with us disturbing their peaceful morning and shouted us.  We responded by a rousing chorus of 'King of the swingers!'

At 20 miles crossed a road and I heard my name being called out and looked up to see a friend with his camera!  He also had Haribos - what a legend!  20 miles in a WSR event means that you are at the Lovestation - plenty of food, drink and banter, I was famished - I stuffed my face and grabbed a handful of pretzels to take with me and we set off for the last 6 and a bit miles.

Quite a bit of this last section was the same as the bit of the first few miles, but in reverse.  It took in the deep river we'd crossed.  I decided that, as my feet were still fairly dry, I'd take the rickety bridge. It was considerably more rickety and my 2 running partners opted to run through the middle of the water.  They told me that it was 'refreshing' and 'just what they needed' to wash the mud out of their shoes.  I was not convinced.  And I soon discovered that they were fibbing!  We had 4 (or was it 5 or 6) more river crossings - and these did not have bridges.  The water was really cold and deep!

Our conservative pace meant that we were still trotting along really happily, overtaking lots of people who were beginning to flag, and we still felt strong.  Based on prior knowledge of the 'ish' nature of the length of a WSR marathon we got to 25 miles and were debating how much further we might have to run.  We saw the '400m to go' sign (which has a history of being fairly randomly placed in the last mile of a race) and still did not really think that we could be near the end, as that would make it a marathon length marathon!  But, along the path we went, crossed a road and there was the Tank Museum and the finish flags.  It really was the finish line!

Bling-tastic!

We crossed the line together - passing two lovely tanks, to be presented with our fabulous medals and goodie bags (great new buff and a bottle of beer) and to have celebratory photos taken!    An utterly fabulous day out - fun and smiles all the way!

Thank you guys for the company (and the lift). https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/MrsBridgewater1

On accidental first marathons and irresponsible dog owners.

Okay, so who was taking bets on me falling over during today's race?  Who had a side bet that it would happen within the first mile and involve man's best friend?  If you had money on this you'd have made out like a bandit today!  We were pootling along at a nice easy pace, a lady I know was about 20' ahead of us and I heard her say a cheery 'good morning' to a walker with a dog on a lead.  We didn't hear a reply.  As we approached I said 'good morning' and Husbando that there were about 100 runners coming along.  No reply, we thought nothing of it and ran on around a corner, Husbando a few paces behind me.  Next thing I know the dog is running around my ankles - he'd been let off his lead.  I had two choices, stop quickly or drop kick the dog over the hedge and into the field.  I chose to stop quickly and in doing so ended up twisting my knee and falling over.  I thought that this was end-ex for me - it was that stabbing, sick making pain that could be really nasty.  Lots of runners stopped to see how I was as I stood, crying and swearing, by the side of the path.  The dog owner walked off without a backward glance.

I walked a while, then tried a gentle jog, it actually hurt slightly less to run than to walk, so I knew I would make it to the end of the first lap, but decided that a marathon was out of the question.  I was greatly cheered when I spotted a fire engine, and firemen!  I finished the first lap, swearing all the way and casting aspersions about the size of the dog walker's genitalia (which seemed to amuse a fellow runner and blogger from irunoffroad greatly!) and ate a handful of painkillers when I got to the aid station.  The painkillers, along with industrial quantities of sweets, seemed to do the trick and I set off for an experimental second lap.  Husbando was brilliant, staying with me rather than running on, we settled into a steady pace, where we could chat quite happily.  We passed the dog owner again, I called him a rude name under my breath and felt a bit better.  Later on lap 2 we ran into the firemen again - and they blew their horn at me!  Husbando made smutty comments about hoses and horns - he obviously wasn't working hard enough!

We decided that 3 laps (about 14 miles) would be enough.  Husbando had run 16.4 miles at Timelord on the Thames on Wednesday, my knee was hurting, 14 miles is a respectable distance for a Sunday.  But, we got to the aid station and start finish area, changed shoes (and in Husbando's case applied Compeed blister plasters) and thought, 'What the heck, let's do one more!'  After you've faffed at the aid station for a few minutes, eaten sugar laden treats, drunk full fat coke and when you know that the first few hundred metres are downhill it is very easy to go on.  And boy did we faff at the aid stations!  Husbando stopped his Garmin whenever we were stuffing our faces, I left mine running - over the course of the race we spent 30 minutes not running!  This is testament to the friendliness of the race organisers, the support of other runners (Husbando is very grateful for the Compeed) and my greediness when faced with a box of Haribos!

At the end of lap 3 we didn't ring the bell, we'd decided to see how we felt after a wee rest.  On the 4th lap we pretty much decided that we were going to run 6 laps (28 miles).  This would be Husbando's first marathon.  He hadn't even begun his marathon training programme, and I hadn't run a marathon since September.  We really were not respecting the distance!  Towards the end of lap 5 I heard words that I never thought I'd hear 'I'm struggling to keep up with you!' I switched us to a 9min run/1 min walk strategy, although I blatantly ignored it if we were on a downhill when we should be walking!  We hit 26.2 miles in 4hrs 43 (or 4hrs 20 actual moving time) and celebrated with a hug and a 2 minute walk break before resuming our plod to the finish.

The course was gently undulating, running around Staunton Country Park in Havant - only 1,500' of elevation over the entire marathon, but the little hill at the end of each lap got steeper and steeper!  We had walked up it on lap 5, but ran it on the last lap - just to show the hill who was boss!

We rang the bell and collected our medals and hugs from the race director.  My knee had got to the stage where it hurt so much it no longer hurt... well - that's what I was telling myself as we hobbled back to the car!  Husbando had just run his first marathon and I am very proud of him!  It is the first time I have run an entire race with someone else - and we didn't kill each other!

Huge thanks to the organisers and the support of all the runners today.  If you haven't done an On The Whistle event BOOK ONE NOW - you'll have to be quick though as they sell out quickly!

Hills, medals, cakes, hills and bells... oh and more hills!

This is the race I said I'd never do again.  It was the first trail marathon I had ever run and I swore it would be my last.  So why was I back in Sidling St Nicholas?  Because I seem to be suffering a case of runner's amnesia!  I travelled down with my running partner in crime from last year and Husbando.    Husbando had been swayed by the promise of a nice B&B and I had neglected to mention that he would be in a village with virtually no mobile phone coverage and no wifi.

Friday night traffic meant we just made it to the village hall in time for our pre-ordered meals cooked by the lovely ladies from the WI .  One of the ladies came over and chatted to us - she remembered us from last year - and told us that she and her husband would be out on the course to support us in the morning.  We collected our numbers, had a look at the finish area and checked into our B&B at The Grey Hound pub, drank some beer, ate some chips and went to bed.   We were all of 2 minutes' walk from the race HQ, so popping out for a WI breakfast and back for a last minute wee before the race the next morning meant that we could avoid the dreaded portaloos! Husbando had entered the Sydling Hill Run rather than the marathon, so he came down with us to the start and took our jumpers back to the room.  After a race brief we all gathered on the race began.  

I had no real 'plan' for this race. I was still tired from Endure 24, and my legs had felt heavy and sluggish on every run I had done since then.  But, at Giant's Head it really isn't about the time.  No one is going to use this race to get a good for age place in the London Marathon.  As with last year we were all walking within the first mile - that concrete hill has not got any easier!   

The hills were, as always, hugely challenging.  This year however the ground underfoot seemed even more challenging.  We've had more rain this year which meant that the vegetation was much more rampant.  The long grass sapped energy, nettles and brambles attacked bare legs and the stoney paths were ankle twistingly treacherous.  But it was such fun!  As someone who hates meeting new people, it always amazes me how happily I will chat to total strangers when out running.  Between chatting with other runners, looking down to check that my foot wasn't about to go down a rabbit hole the miles ticked by.  We ran past the Cerne Abbas Giant, and I stopped for a few seconds to chat with a friend who had come along to take photos.  We were 8 miles in and, although it was tough, I was feeling good.  I was running the downhill sections and the (very few) flat sections and using the hills as walk breaks.  It was humid and warm, but there was the odd cool breeze to cool us down.  The aid stations were plentiful, well stocked and the marshals running them were so friendly and encouraging.  

Even though I had run the race last year, there were vast sections that I just did not remember having seen before.  There was far more road than I remembered.  It was predominantly downhill which was a blessing, but very hard on the knees in trail shoes.  Some of the off road downhill sections were too steep for me to run down with anything like my normal enthusiasm for a downhill!  Soon my knees were complaining big time, and I began looking forward to hills so that I could walk for a while.  All around me people were adopting the same strategy so I didn't feel bad about it, and by the later stages of the race I would not have been able to run the hills even if I'd wanted to! The views from the tops of the hills were amazing - when I remembered to lift my eyes from the 6' in front of me to have a look.  

The World Famous Love Station was a sight for sore eyes - a chance to have a laugh and a joke, some cider or prosecco as well as the normal aid station fare of coke, squash, water, cake, crisps, sausages, jelly babies and water melon.  The Love Station also meant that we were almost, nearly, there.  Except I could not remember how long the race was.  Yes, I know it was a marathon, but this was a White Star Running marathon, and they do like to make sure you get value for money.  Was it 27 miles or 28?  I had no idea.  I looked at my watch and tried to work out whether I could beat my time from last year or not.  I tried to remember how many hills we had to go - couldn't remember that either!  I chatted with another runner who had run a similar time to me last year - he though that we could do it easily, I wasn't so sure.  

We got an incentive to run faster soon though.  The black, threatening clouds decided to dump their contents on us.  We were running up a slight incline on and exposed ridge.  The wind was blowing and the rain and hail were coming at us sideways.  It hurt when the rain hit my bare skin and rain and hail in my ear was deeply unpleasant!  We got to the last aid station (the one at 26.4 miles!) and they were hanging on to the frame of the gazebo to stop it blowing away!  We played an impromptu game of sardines as we tried to work out how many runners, marshals and food tables we could fit in one small gazebo.  The rain didn't look like it was going to stop and I was getting cold - because I was soaked to the skin and it was very windy - so I decided to plough on.  Just a downhill and an uphill and then another downhill to go.  The rain was very localised and reasonably short lived, other runners had no idea that there had been rain at all!

Running into the village and onto the green makes for one of the nicest race finishes ever!  So many people cheering the finishers over the line where we were all presented with our medals, t-shirts and buffs.  I crossed the line in 5hrs and 26 minutes - a 13 minute improvement on last year.  I was thrilled! Husbando was waiting for me - and bought me a small ice cream.  I am glad he didn't go for a medium or large as I think it may well have been bigger than me!  While I'd been running he had done the Sydling Hill Run, marketed as 10-ish km, and had come 11th so he was very pleased with himself.  I think he may even consider doing the marathon next year.   We cheered finishers home for a while before popping back to the pub to grab a shower.  We still managed to get back to the finish area to cheer the very excellent 'sweeper' over the line.  It is a measure of how tough this race is that there was only 1 person who finished in under 4 hours (and I think he only just got under the 4 hour mark).  I remember feeling a bit disappointed with my time last year, but this year I was very happy.

The evening was great fun.  Although drinking three and a half pints of beer after a marathon but before eating anything is probably not the most sensible idea I've ever had!  We ate chilli and rhubarb crumble prepared by the WI, chatted with friends, met new people and drank some more.  Some people did dancing - but I wasn't quite tipsy enough for that!  We had a slight Epipen emergency on the way back to our room.  Not mine, but I recognise an Epipen from about 50 paces and saw a young man at the side of the road with one.  Ambulances take a long time to get to rural Dorset villages - but eventually it got there and I hope he is now OK!  

After a good night's sleep we got up and into our running kit (clean set) again for yet another race.  This one was a short one though.  The Sydling Bell Race was organised to raise money for the village church - a really lovely way to say thank you to the people on the village.  It had a 'Le Mans start' in that we were separated from our running shoes so had to dash to find them as soon as the race started.  We then ran up to the top of a hill, did a task (in my case star jumps and push ups) claimed our cow bell medal  and ran back down the hill to the finish.  Reader, I will be honest - I did not run the whole way!  It may only have been 2.5 miles, but there was no way I was running up the steep bits of the hill!  It took me 27 minutes from the start (including finding my shoes and queueing for my task) and I was quite happy with that!  

It was an amazing running weekend!  I really do feel as though I've had a little holiday away from the real world.  I can't thank Andy from White Star Running and his band of helpers enough for everything that they did to make it such a success.   I just hope I get to do it all again next year.  And if I do, I must try to remember that the marathon is 27.2 miles long!

.  

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.

A day of firsts.

I don't really know where to start with this blog entry.  I have so much that I want to write and I know I will forget to say something or muddle things up.  So grab yourself a cup of tea, because I think this might be a long one!

Yesterday was the inaugural 'Wickham Whistler,'  the first race organised by On The Whistle.  It was a timed challenge event rather than a traditional race.  The basic premise is that you have 6 hrs to complete as many laps (3.5 miles each) as you want.  You can complete one lap and still get a fantastic medal or you can carry on (and on).   This type of event is an awesome way for runners of all abilities to take part - everyone is a winner!  The venue was a winner too, taking place on the Meon Valley Trail which is a discussed railway line and very scenic.

We pitched up to the start area at about 8.30am, collected our numbers, 69 for me, 70 for Husbando (who quipped that he wants more than 69), and wandered into Wickham to grab some breakfast.  The Village Bakery was open so we grabbed a cheese and bacon pastry and a cup of coffee each and sat in the sun commenting on the fact that this probably wasn't the best pre-race nutrition strategy, but it was very tasty, and as we had some coffee left it might be a good idea to grab a Belgian bun too.  Having removed tell tale crumbs from our clothing we wandered back to the start area, said hello to a few people we recognised and waited for the race brief.  It was great to talk to Steve from Film My Run - I've seen him at several races, but this was the first time I'd actually 'met' him (his film of the race can be seen here).  The race was started, obviously, with the blowing of a whistle.

We ran out...

Husbando, having decided that he will run his first marathon in Paris next spring, decided that this would be the first time he had run a half marathon since he was 17!  Off we went with 148 other runners, on a lovely sunny morning.  The outward leg was ever so slightly up hill, the inbound leg ever so slightly down hill - not so much that, in the early stages, it had any noticeable impact on pace. When approaching an ultra my normal approach is to start slow, and get slower slowly.  But we were running a half marathon.  We set off at a comfortable pace - somewhere around the 8.40min/mile pace, chatting with runners near us, and generally having a lovely time.  I did a strip tease part way through the first lap - it was far too hot to be wearing a long sleeved top under my tshirt - thankfully I seem to have done this well away from anyone with a camera.  Back at 'base camp' we grabbed a drink and some sweets and then went out and did it all again (minus the strip tease)!

…and we ran back

I've been suffering with Morton's Neuroma, mainly in my left foot, but sometimes in the right one too.  This was a two footed pain day.  As long as I am careful, and stick to fairly smooth ground under my foot the pain is manageable, it is when I stand on a bumpy stone that it gets 'owy'!  This meant that, on a packed gravel path, I had to tread carefully.

At the end of lap 2 we realised we had covered 7 miles - so the laps were longer than advertised.  Suddenly Husbando wasn't just running his first marathon since he was a teenager (i.e. a very long time ago), he was also running his longest run ever.  We hit 10 miles in 1hr 25(ish) minutes, and the half marathon (13.1 miles) distance in 1hr 53mins - not a bad time, but not a great start to an ultra!  Husbando found the last lap tough going - groin pain was complained about at one point - but we still managed to pick up a bit of pace at the end of the lap to finish the '14 mile half marathon' in 2.01.23.  He rang the bell, and received his medal - I hung around for a few minutes for hugs and celebratory photos and another handful of Haribos before setting off on my own.

He's done it!

This is the bit I hadn't been looking forward to.  We'd spent the first 4 laps chatting to each other and having brief conversations with other runners as they ran in the other direction, but I was now very conscious that I was all by myself.  And I had at least another 14 miles to run.  I made a conscious effort to slow down, at 16.35miles I was lapped for the first time - we had a little chat as he ran past me - and I was aware that one of the 2 ladies in front of me had stopped running.  This event was not about 'winning,' but the competitive part of me couldn't help but think I might be the second lady.  At the end of lap 5, having collected yet another hair band from the very helpful children handing them out, I saw the other lady sitting by the aid station with a medal around her neck.  She'd run 17 miles and decided to call it quits.  Now all I had to do was to keep running and not get lapped by any of the women and I could get my name closer to the top of a results table than ever before.

Last lap selfie!

Where did I put the lap bands?

Half way through lap 6 I met up with Ian and Helen, and asked if I could run with them.  They explained that they were run/walking - 9 minutes running/1 minute walking, but I was welcome to join them.  We had a great time, talking about everything from hypnobirthing to Everest Base Camp and the miles flew by.  We had 'lunch' at the end of lap 7 - an extended stop at the aid station, where I tried to inhale as many Haribos as possible (lots) and we chatted with other runners.  Back on the course, the other runners looked to be having as much fun as we were, there was lots of encouraging exchanges and friendly banter.  I hit 26.3miles in 4hrs 19 minutes - not bad for a 'for the fun of it/messing around and stopping to pig out marathon!'  I was a lap ahead of Ian and Helen and had told them that I was going to do a marathon (28 miles) and then a victory lap.  I said that I would let them go ahead at this point as I was going to take it slowly 5 mins running/5 mins walking.  In the end I got bored 2 minutes into a walk break so decided to run for 10mins at walk for 2!  During my 'victory lap' I had my first ever compliment on my running style.  The lovely man who finished a lap ahead of everyone said that he was glad to have caught up with me as he wanted to tell me that I had an 'amazing running style!'  He said I looked so 'relaxed and fluid and comfortable!'  That made my day as I approached what I thought would be my last turnaround point and kept me going as I flew (=hobbled, swore as feet landed on sticky up stones that I couldn't work out how to avoid) towards the 31.5 mile mark where I planned to finish (time on my watch 5hrs 14mins) and there was Husbando!

I had every intention of stopping, I honestly did, but the naughty race director told me that I had loads of time to do another lap. 31.5 miles would be my longest run so would have been a great achievement, but 35 miles is a more pleasing number, and 10 laps sounds so much better than 9.  Husbando was still in his running gear (he'd been off to do some work and came back to pick me up) so I said we should walk the last lap together.  I started my Garmin again and off we went.   We started walking and then tried to run - I think I had stopped/walked for too long to run easily again, and Husbando was feeling the miles he'd done that morning too.   It was lovely to do one final lap - this lap was so quiet compared to the the previous laps.  Husbando and I took our time and took some photos, I still managed what felt like a sprint finish, but was probably more of a ponderous wobble, to the finish line and, finally, rang the 'I quit' bell.  Sweaty hugs all round - followed by a medal, some Haribos and a drink!   My watch said 6hrs 01min - but I knew that the eventual time would be a bit longer as I'd stopped it before the last lap, the results table shows me finishing in 6hrs 03mins and 55secs - I am more than happy with that!

This was an amazing day out.  I had worried that the backwards and forwards laps would be mind numbingly dull, but the runners and marshals were all so friendly that time just flew.  Breaking a marathon down into laps makes it much more manageable than counting individual miles (even when that marathon is 28 miles long!)  I haven't had so much fun running for a long time.  Most people I saw were laughing and smiling and running well all the way through the event.  The organisation was brilliant - a lovely low key event that was run by runners for runners.   Sadly I am on holiday when On The Whistle will be holding their next event, The World Emoji Day Run, but it looks like fun and the medals are going to be awesome.  I reckon this one will be a sell out too, just like yesterday's race.

Turn around scarecrow!

What a difference a year makes….

I have a goal this year.  I want to run a sub four hour marathon.  I've worked hard, lost weight and run 20 miles in a time that indicates I am capable of achieving this ambition.  I ran a PB at Paris last year  and really enjoyed my race, so had psyched myself up for a repeat performance this time.  

The trip started well, I arrived at St Pancras and discovered that I could upgrade my seat for very little money.  Arriving in Paris I went straight to the Expo to collect my race number and try, unsuccessfully, to avoid the temptation of so many pretty, shiny running related goodies!  I bought a pair of compression tights, some t-shirts, a fridge magnet, some no tie shoe laces and a cap.  I went past the stand giving out free Haribos several times... 

From there, I went to my friend's house in Saint Gratien.  I had persuaded my old university friend that he should run a  marathon and this was to be his first marathon.  I kept thinking that this was a much better marathon to do as a first one than my first marathon in Abingdon.  The atmosphere and the crowds would be much more exciting!  We hadn't seen each other for a while so there was a fair amount of catching up and chatting to be done.  

On Friday I went sight seeing!  I love Paris - but dispute the self proclaimed tag of 'the most beautiful city in the World.'  It does have many stunningly beautiful sights, but it is also pretty grubby, with ankle twistingly uneven pavements littered with doggy land mines!  I try to see one new 'thing' every time I visit, so after a trip to Shakespeare and Company and an excellent steak frites sitting outside I went to visit the Musée Carnavalet.  A lovely museum, located near Notre Dame, that details the history of Paris.  Unlike the better known museums it was virtually deserted.  I spent a couple of hours wandering around trying to decipher the French labels!  

Saturday morning meant that it was time for the Paris Breakfast Run.   A 5km run from Ave Foch to the Eiffel Tower with coffee and croissant at the finish.  I had thought about running the new Bois de Boulogne parkrun  but decided to leave that for another trip.  The weather for this run was perfect, overcast and cool.  I crossed my fingers that the weather forecasts were wrong and that the weather would stay the same for Sunday.  I ran with my friend, a nice gentle leg stretch with a bit of a sprint at the end.  I ran and took photos and chatted to marathon buddies and strangers.  Great fun!  

Then it was back to Saint Gratien to take it easy for the rest of the day, a trip to the supermarket to stock up on Haribos - you can't buy a Happy Box in England and every home should have a Happy Box!  Dinner that evening was not what I would have chosen - but that is part and parcel of staying with friends.  Let's just say, I don't usually eat cauliflower and chickpea curry and avoid spicy food the day before long runs!  I slept badly, woke up with a burbly tummy about an hour before my 6am alarm went off and lay looking at the ceiling visualising how I would feel finishing the marathon.  I got up and got dressed - leaving the house as quietly as possible.  My friend's start time was an hour later than mine, so there was no point in him coming in with me.  

Security was much more in evidence than last year.  Hardly surprising in light of recent events!  I went through the security, queued for the loo, discovered that buffs serve as excellent face masks to mask some of the odour of a portaloo, came out of the portaloo, took one look at the queue and rejoined it!  Just in time logistics.  In this second visit to the loo I realised too late that the pocket in my running shorts was not closed - as my Shot Blocks fell into the toilet bowl.  Not good.  But not a lot I could do about that really!

I went to the starting pen and managed to find a group of people speaking English.  This group included an American lady who kept telling me that this would be easy as she 'did Ironman,' that this was 'just a walk in the park' and wasn't going to be an 11 hour day so what was there to worry about.  I wanted to get away.   The Champs Elysées is an excellent place to start a race.  Long enough, and wide enough for us all to start from the same point (unlike London).   As soon as we were off I reminded myself that the start was slightly downhill and that I had to make sure I didn't go off to fast,  I didn't.  I felt fantastic.  I was going to bloody do this!   At about 2.5 miles I saw a sea of blue and yellow on the right hand side - it was the Hatch Warren Running Club support crew.  I was on the other side of the road, so I veered across shouting 'Hello Hatchies!' and was met with a roar of support.  

On we went to the Place de la Bastille, more cobbles and the first water/food station.  In light of my dodgy tummy and the fact that I'd lost my Shot Blocks I decided to eat whatever I could grab (bananas and raisins) and to grab some water to replenish my water bottle.  I noticed a pain in the balls of both my feet at around 5 miles - but decided that there was little I could do about it, my laces were not too tight - I had no idea what was causing it, but apart from the occasional really "ouchy" moment it was manageable.  I had 2 pace bands with me, one for 3.49 and one for 3.59.  I was hitting the times for the faster band with about 30-45 seconds to spare, but I felt really strong at this point.  I passed a runner in a Macmillan cancer top soon after this - he recognised my KRR top and called out to me.  We ran together and chatted for several miles, his pace was slightly slower than mine, and I was conscious that was itching to go faster - so we parted company.  

I hit the halfway point on target for 3.48 and still felt good.  I was going to get my sub 4, I was sure of it!  And then we got to about 14 miles and the heat and my stomach got the better of me.  I had a loo stop.  The sun was full on now and there was very little shade.  The sapeurs pompiers were out with their hoses to spray us down, but the relief was fleeting.  Now everything that I had enjoyed about he marathon last year seemed to irritate me this year.  The crowds encroached onto the road, in the absence of any barriers and very few marshals there were several points where the course narrowed dramatically - at times you could not get more than three 'runners' running at the same time - and this meant slowing to a walk.  The water stations were like running through fruit salad - avoiding slipping on banana skins, avoiding colliding with other runners as everything was on one side of the road.  

Did I mention it was hot?  It was very hot.  I was aware that my pace was slipping and I chewed through the 3.49 pace band so I could discard it, why aren't pace bands edible?  That way you could have a consoling snack when it all goes tits up!  I needed another loo stop.  This was not good. 

At around 16 miles the race goes underground.  A long underpass that had some sort of essential oil aromas wafting through it in an attempt to mitigate the stench of pee.  The lack of satellite reception meant that I couldn't really rely on my Garmin for accurate information.  This wouldn't have been an issue if there had been mile markers every mile - but they were intermittent.  I plodded on.  Coming out of another underpass (shorter this time) I was losing the will to live when I heard a cry of 'There she is!' and somehow knew that the shout was for me.  I turned and saw the Hatchies again.  It was just the lift I needed at that point.  

On I went, it felt hotter than ever.  At 30km there was a 'wall.'  Hoarding on either side of the road with bricks painted on it.  It said '30k wall' on one side and '20mile wall' on the other side.  I run in miles not km, I had lost satellite reception for long enough not to know how accurate my Garmin distance was, and here was a sign saying I'd run 20 miles!  Yay!  Only 6 and a bit to go!  And then about half a mile later there was the 19mile marker at the side of the road.  Despondent does not come close to describing how I felt about being 'robbed' of over a mile.  I know that if I had thought about it I'd have realised that 30km isn't 20 miles - but maths while running isn't my strong point. 

On we went, eventually getting to the Bois du Boulogne.  In my memory this was close to the end - but in reality you spend miles and miles in the Bois.  And the spectators are few and far between.  I'd kissed goodbye to sub 4 hours now too and was feeling very sorry for myself.  Then I realised how many ambulances I'd seen, how many people were being looked after by the Red Cross, and thought that at least I was still upright and moving forward.  I overtook one of the 3.45hr pacers at some point in this long, soulless stretch of running - so I wasn't the only person having a bad day!  At around 40km I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was the Ironman running American lady from the start pen.  I decided that she would not be finishing in front of me, so concentrated on running rather than shuffling for the last couple of kilometres (more cobbles, and did I mention it was hot?)  

Finally there were supporters again!  I was nearly there!  Back on the Ave Foch with only 195m to go - I picked up the pace, desperate to get this purgatory over with.  I crossed to line and smashed into the back of another runner who had come to a dead stop the minute he stepped over the finish mat!   I got my medal, retrieved my bag, texted Husbando, misread a text from him (I thought that he had come over to surprise me and my heart sank when I realised that I had totally misunderstood what he was saying).  I walked along sobbing.  I was so disappointed with my time (4hrs 6mins).  It felt as though I had thrown away a perfectly good chance at a PB.  

I retreated to a friend's hotel room for a shower and a sob, and a chance to update Facebook!  I found a silver lining - I'd caught the sun, so have made a start on my summer tan, but that was about the only positive I could find.  After showering I felt a little better - cooler anyway, and struggled into my new compression tights which I topped with the lurid green finisher top.  I was glad that I'd remembered to bring my FitFlops with me as I wasn't sure my feet would fit back inside my trainers! The Hatch Warren supporters were close to l'Arc de Triomphe and I bumped into them on my way back to the race village, I thanked them for their support, had a hug and burst into tears again!  Then, having had a look at the marathon tracker app, I thought it might be possible to get to the bottom of the Ave Foch to see if I could see any of my friends finishing, so set out and walked almost to the end of the avenue before I realised that I wasn't going to be able to battle my way through the crowds to get close to the front, and that I'd probably missed most of them anyway!   

I trudged back up Ave Foch and decided that I was really rather peckish!  I found somewhere to eat, and texted my friend to tell him where I was.  Another steak frites with a large beer was called for!  It was very good.  I chatted with other marathoners while I waited.  One bloke, who thought he recognised me (and may well do as he belongs to a Reading based running club) had missed his target massively.  When his mum asked him what went wrong, he said it was more a case of, 'What didn't go wrong?'  And that seemed to be a theme; lots of people not doing as well as they'd hoped.

I was halfway through my meal when I spotted my friend approaching the restaurant.  I jumped out of my seat and ran, yes, I really did run - surprised myself too, towards him, nearly knocking him over as I gave him a hug!  Then I bought him a beer, shared my Café Gourmand with him and talked about his first marathon.

Two days later, back at home, and with a couple of recovery runs under my belt, I am still disappointed.  It gives me some hope that lots of runners were 25-30 mins adrift from their target times, but I worked really hard in the build up to this race, and felt that I had a really good chance of achieving my objective.  Ah well, there are other races!  On a positive note I have now run 10 marathons (OK, 8 marathons and 2 ultras!) so I reckon I have the marathon bug!