An in between day

 

An odd day today, travelling from Biarritz to my chosen starting point for the Camino Frances, St Jean Pied De Port.  There was no rush, the train I wanted to catch left at 10.42am, so long as I could find my way there and buy a ticket I’d be fine.  If the garage had a cafe then I’d be better than fine.  My ability to function without coffee is limited, so I was pleased to find I was capable of buying a ticket without resorting to English before a cup of coffee and a croissant.  French trains always amaze me.  It was on time, clean, busy but not too crowded and very reasonably priced.  I had a brief stop to change trains in Bayonne - twenty minutes to dash out of the station and have a very quick look before jumping on the next train for the very scenic route to St Jean Pied de Port.  

I had been slightly concerned about travelling on a Sunday in France, the whole not being able to get a meal or do any shopping, but I need not have worried,  St Jean Pied de Port is a busy, busy little town,  All the shops and restaurants were open.  I had been pondering my stupidity at not bringing a cross body bag with me to keep things that I needed close at hand available, so picked up one of those as a reward for having avoided buying any tourist tat!   After lunch I made my way to the Camino office  because there was a bit of a queue and I can’t resit one of those!  

Got my first stamp in the all important credential!  And a lot of information from the lady who took down my details, most of which I forgot as I was so busy trying to remember to go between the cross and the pile of rocks at one point that the rest of the pertinent information evaporated!  I’m sure it will be fine,  As my stamp had today’s date next to it I suppose that means I have started today.  I walked the fifth of a mile from the office to my hostel and recorded that on Strava just for completeness!  I don’t want to walk back to the office in the morning.  

After that I went into tourist mode - walking around the town walls, having a look in the church, strolling by the river and writing some postcards.  I’m glad I got to see this town. It is beautiful.  I am looking forward to tomorrow, although a little part of me worries that it will be too busy, with too many people.  My overriding memory of Kilimanjaro (way back in this blog in 2017) is that there were too many people.  I’m hoping that the greater distance involved here will mean that it doesn’t feel quite so crowded.  If we could have a repeat of today’s weather, 21c and a bit cloudy, that would also be lovely!  For now - it is an early night for me.

Biarritz for a day

 Up early this morning, left the hotel before 4am and found myself in a heavingly busy Gatwick airport.  It is bank holiday weekend!  Why did I not realise?  It was all going well until security.  The X-ray machine thingy jammed with my bag inside it.  Only a minor delay - but enough to raise my blood pressure a little.  The flight itself was quick and relatively painless, there was the inevitable post Brexit queue at immigration but, not having any hold baggage to collect, I was out of the airport and on my way before 9am local time.  After dropping my ruck sack off at my hotel I set off to see the sea.

After the empty beaches of Tiree it was a shock to see so many people already on the beach before 10am.  I had more urgent matters in mind though - breakfast!  

Post breakfast I took in all the sights!  Rocher de la Vierge, pretty little streets with interesting shops and restaurants all against the impressive backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. Plenty of opportunities to practice my French, I must be getting a bit better as only one person answered me in English today.

Having had a larger than average lunch, moules frites, and being somewhat weary I picked up bread, cheese, fruit and yogurt to have for supper in my room before an early night.  

It was a nice surprise to discover, on arriving at the hotel, that I’d paid for my stay in advance.  There was so much going on when I made the booking that I’d totally forgotten!  

The journey to the start

 Is this a mid life crisis?  Or a logical response to the situation I find myself in?  I thought I was in a secure job, teaching in a small, independent school.  I was happy.  I loved the school, the students, my colleagues.  I thoroughly enjoyed running the school’s CCF and DofE programme.  I was happy, settled and, in my mid 50s, assumed that this was my last job prior to retirement.  How wrong could I be?

We found out on 20th May that the school was closing at the end of this academic year.  I have only taught there foe six years, but my children have been part of the school for over 20 years.  Many of the staff had been pupils at the school prior to long teaching careers.  We were a small but very close knit community.  We were also a hugely talented and hardworking group of people - it was amazing to see the stream of relieved and happy faces as my colleagues secured new jobs … but I wasn’t sure I wanted a new job… or at least I didn’t want a new job right now.

I’d had a busy year.  Running the CCF contingent, being DofE manager and teaching meant that weekends that didn’t involve some form of school related work were vanishingly rare.  I love all aspects of work (apart from data, spreadsheets and washing up the coffee mugs in the science work room) but there was no doubt that I was running on fumes.  Did I really want to follow up a busy summer holiday (I had tow cadet trip already in the calendar) with the stress of a new job?  Was I even capable of playing nicely with a new set of colleagues?  I decided that I didn’t want to put myself through the hell that is applying for jobs.  I’d take some time off.  I’d go for a long walk.  I’d (maybe, if I got very bored) do some housework!

And then…

Well, everyone else got jobs?  What if I couldn’t get a job?  Surely just going and looking at a couple of schools couldn’t do any harm.  I loved both the local schools I visited.  They both seemed to like me.  I found myself accepting a job on the basis that I wouldn’t start full time until January.  I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of starting all over again, but I also can’t deny the fact that having the security of a job to come back to is very reassuring.  

 So - what now?  Well an adventure I’d always had at the back of my mind and something I jokingly told my colleagues I was going to do on the day we found out we were being made redundant.  I am off to walk the Camino de Santiago. 

It occurs to me that I have never really done anything on my own before!  I’ve either been with friends and family, with colleagues, leading or part of a group of students, but I have never spent a prolonged period of time where the only person I needed to worry about was me.  It feels odd,  And slightly selfish, but very much needed.  

I left home this afternoon, with an 8kg backpack (according to my younger daughter I have less luggage than I normally take on a weekend in London) to make my way to the airport for a 6am flight tomorrow morning.  I don’t know when I’ll be home.  I have a one way ticket and accommodation booked for the first two nights.

Watch this space….

 

The big five-oh!

Towards the end of last year my running was going really well.  Nothing spectacular, just good consistent running with the odd PB thrown in for good measure.  I was looking forward to 2023 and, although I had relatively few races in the calendar, I was hoping for good things.

Then, on the first day of the Christmas holiday, I finally succumbed to Covid-19.  Despite being triple vaccinated, I was rough for ages.  I felt worse than I did when I had pneumonia 7 years ago.  I spent two and a half weeks in bed and 'recovering' just in time to go back to work in the new year.  But I wasn't really better.  My sense of smell didn't return until mid March, I was constantly tired and my running was shockingly bad.  I still went out and did my long training runs at the weekends, when I wasn't busy doing stuff for school, but there were a real chore and unbearably slow.  I consoled myself by saying that a) at least I was out there doing something and b) it was time on my feet that counted and I was doing plenty of that! 

We set off to Boston with friends, stopping for a few days in New York on our way.  We went from a cold, grey April in Hampshire to a heat wave!  It is a bit of shock to realise that it is 32 celsius at 6.30pm in the evening - at that temperature the only reasonable thing to do is drink an ice cold beer! While we were in New York I got to achieve one of the items on my wish list; to run in Central Park.  I've been to New York many times, but not for years and in those days I wasn't a runner.  It was amazing to run up from our hotel then all the way through Central Park and around the running track.  And, for the first time in ages, I was running fairly well.  On our second morning Husbando commented that it must be good for my confidence - and it was!  We also had plans to run over Brooklyn Bridge - but had to settle for walking as it was hugely crowded and so hot in the middle of the morning.  We had a busy time in New York, it is an amazing place, but I always breath a sigh of relief when I leave as it is just too busy for someone who spent her formative years in a much smaller city (London).  

We travelled to Boston by train.  Easier than a taxi to JFK and an extra encounter with airport security, but sitting down for 4 hrs exacerbated an old back injury.  It hurt to put my foot on the floor - but there was plenty of time before Marathon Monday.  It was great to be back in Boston.  We changed our hotel after an indifferent experience last year, so were staying near Faneuil Hall rather than in Back Bay.  Boston is a small city - everywhere is an easy walk away  - and we thought that, if we weren't right next to the expo, we might spend less on merch!  After collecting our bibs (Husbando was running this year too) we did go to the expo - and were underwhelmed!  Rumour has it that Adidas locked out their competitors - so unless you were in the market for pet insurance or guttering there was very little on offer.  Luckily of us (but not for our bank balances) Marathon Sports had set up a 'brand house' pop up store in addition to their regular store on Boylston.  And all the other local sports retailers had significantly upped their game.  This year I took all my Boston Marathon jackets with me - wearing a different one each day.  It really is wonderful to see all the jackets from previous years.  There has been some controversy about the quality of this year's jacket - but I bought one anyway!  

On Saturday I made my way to Danehy Park parkrun in Cambridge where I had volunteered to act as tail walker.  This was a lovely newish parkrun, much smaller than Jamaica Pond with only 118 runners even on marathon weekend.  I walked with two first timers who were great company.  I hope I didn't put them off by extolling the virtues of parkrun.  We were so busy talking that I couldn't tell you where each of the three laps started and stopped!  The walk was just what I needed to give me the confidence that, back issues not withstanding, I would be able to at least walk Boston and, with a tiny bit of running, be able to make the cut off. 

The rest of Saturday and Sunday passed uneventfully, we visited Democracy Brewing at least once - because once you've found somewhere that good why wouldn't you?  We all headed off for an early night, although to be fair we'd hardly been burning the midnight oil.  I was diligently flossing my teeth when I managed to ping out a filling.  I stared at it in disbelief and then poked my tongue in the gap to confirm that it was in fact a filling.  Thank goodness for Google - a quick search revealed that there was a pharmacy still open at 9.30pm on a Sunday, and it was only a 5 minute walk away.  I bought some stuff to fill the gap and then discovered how hard it is to manipulate a tiny bit of filler into your own back tooth.  

Monday morning dawned, cold and damp. We'd been promised 'light drizzle' with showers 'later in the afternoon.'  What we got was persistent drizzle from the outset with occasional deluges throughout the morning.  But that was ok, I had a hat, I'm not made of sugar and running in the rain means you don't get overheated! What was important was that I had made it to the start of another Boston Marathon.  I even accepted the fact that this could be a very slow one.  Sub five hours was what I had in my mind.  

I started too fast.  As always.  Very hard not to as it is so downhill for the first 10k. I'd taken a selection of painkillers which seemed to take the edge off the tooth and back pain.  I told myself I would get to 10k and see how I felt, then to half way etc. fully expecting the wheels to come off big time at some point, but also knowing that I had time to get from Hopkinton to Boston.  Despite the awful weather, the crowds were out in force to support us.  The girls at Wellesley were even louder than last year - you could hear them for ages before you could see them.  There was lots of support on the infamous Heartbreak Hill - far more than last year, which is probably why I ran up it faster than last year.  Nutrition was a bit of a nightmare.  I'd taken six mini malt loaves with me so I could have one every four miles, and a packet of six shot blocs in case I fancied something extra.  It soon became clear that my amateur dental work couldn't cope with the stickiness of either.  I had five malt loaves and five shot blocs left at the end of the race!  I didn't want to risk experimenting with the gels that were on offer on the course - I've never got on well with them anyway.

I enjoyed the race so much more this year.  There was no crying in toilets, in fact there was no crying and no toilet stops at all.  I ran fairly consistently until the last couple of miles, it was my first reasonable run of the year.  Because I wasn't pushing for a time (although at halfway I set myself a revised target of 4hrs10 rather than 5hrs) I could look around, take note of the Citgo sign at a mile to go, really enjoy turning left on Hereford and right on Boylston in a way that isn't possible when every second counts, and enjoy that last few hundred metres up to and over the finish line.  

4hrs 7mins and 24seconds - I didn't think it was possible for me to be thrilled a time over four hours, and 12 minutes off a qualifying time for Boston next year, but I am!  It gives me hope that I might be able to qualify again for next year, if I work hard and lose a bit of weight.  

Unlike last year, we didn't dash home the same day - which meant that we had a relaxed evening trying to replace some of the calories we'd expended during the day, before indulging in a bit of retail therapy on Tuesday.

We were looking forward to getting home.  We'd been away for a week, which is longer than we usually take for a race, and were happily ensconced in the airport lounge when, 40 minutes before it was due to leave, our flight was cancelled.  The chaos that ensued was compounded by the fact that the flight on Monday had also been cancelled.  An A380 full of passengers were all looking to rebook flights!  We were assigned a flight via Barcelona that would leave on Wednesday evening, rather than queueing to sort everything out (4 members of staff would take ages to work through the queues) we phoned the hotel and booked rooms for the night and headed back in to Boston, a bonus day in Boston saw a short run in the morning, a fabulous breakfast (best of the whole trip) and a movie - because it was cold in the afternoon, we had checked out of the hotel and just wanted to sit down!  We lucked out on the way home.  We spoke nicely to the lady at the check in desk and she booked us on a direct flight with another airline - and upgraded us to first class - quite a satisfactory outcome!

All I need to do now is qualify for next year..... 

What goes up must come down, and then go up again and again!

No blog posts in ages, then three in one month.  That's what happens when all the deferred races happen at once!  This weekend saw us leaving, straight from work on Friday afternoon, to head down to the picturesque village of Sydling St Nicholas in Dorset for the infamous Giant's Head Marathon.   My entry had been deferred from 2019 - when I'd had to postpone due to Founder's Day at school, two of my friends and deferred from 2020, another had got 'lucky' when a mutual acquaintance couldn't make the race, and Husbando was down to run the 10-ish kilometre race as he has vowed never to run Giant's Head Marathon again after having a nightmare there in 2018.  Luckily I'd booked an extra room at the local pub, so we all had places to stay that didn't involve camping in the rain!

The rain stopped as we were eating breakfast on Saturday morning - which is just as well, as a rain might just have been the straw that broke the camels back and resulted in me not starting!  I'd had an upset stomach all night and was feeling a little below par.  It was just as well our hotel was close to the start as it meant I did not have to brave the portaloos!  

Elevation profile

The start was slightly different this year, rather than running along the High Street we were off road from the start.  We still got the fantastic concrete hill - which makes for a slow first mile but miles two and three are downhill, the only thing you contend with here is the long grass and uneven ground underfoot.  As this isn't by any stretch of the imagination a PB course, and because I was feeling rough, I decided to take it easy.  I was going to walk all the hills.  Normally in this race I end up walking them anyway, but this time I had decided in advance which makes it a strategy rather than a response to inadequate training.  That said, it felt like I was travelling very slowly!  It is hard to move fast when the ground is uneven and you haven't done anywhere near enough off road running in recent months.  My hamstring was still playing up, so I didn't want to push anything too hard.

I'd also forgotten just how hilly this race is!  Over a thousand metres of elevation, with some steep downhill sections that required one to be very goat like to negotiate at anything faster than mincing pace! I ran on my own for much of the race, which was fine, occasionally chatting with other runners, but mostly just swearing under my breath at yet another hill and then admiring the view from the top.  The wind seemed almost constant - and almost always it was a headwind!  It was so noisy.  

Approaching the finish, down hill on a flinty track, I was thrilled to see a friend waiting at the final turn, that gave me just the boost I needed to pick up the pace for the final few metres.  I'd been quite surprised by how, well not easy, let's say 'comfortable' I had found the race.  I'd had no intention of running fast, or pushing myself and yet I managed to run my fastest Giant's Head Marathon and, alarm from a painful right leg, felt fine afterwards.  I certainly wasn't doing the post marathon stagger that had been a feature of my Stockholm, Boston and London!  On checking back through past results, it seems that this was a course PB by about 10 minutes!

As usual, the support from the villagers was fabulous.  The race, along with the 10k, the Bell Races and (new this year) the half marathon take over the village for an entire weekend.  They provide breakfast in the village hall on Saturday, an evening meal on Friday and Saturdays as well as teas and cakes all day.  The Greyhound Inn, with a new landlord who took over last week, was our base for the weekend - they rose to the challenge of runners who wanted early breakfasts.  We decided not to take part in the Bell Race on the Sunday, so had a long, leisurely breakfast instead.  

I think, despite saying on my journey down to Dorset on Friday, that I would not do this race again, I will be back. The hotel is booked....

Round and round and round we go....

I've run at Endure24 on three previous occasions as a solo.  On those occasions solo runners were a rare breed of nutters who would rather endure running all by themselves than form a team or buddy up with a friend to run in a pair.  Even without a support crew, Endure24's laps make it a really good choice for solo runners as you are never are than 5 miles from the aid station and the temptation of your tent.  For teams there seems to be a party atmosphere with runners taking their turn to run laps while their teammates eat, drink and make merry.  It's a little different for pairs.  More of that later.

Way back in 2019, the last time Endure24 was at Wasing Park, one of my best friends (also running solo when not lazing around in an ambulance) suggested that we really should run together as a pair as we could just use our surnames as out team name.  It seemed like a great idea and we waited eagerly for entries to open so that we could book our place for 2020.

That obviously didn't happen due to Covid-19.  Virtual races became the norm, it was hard to imagine running with friends again.  We had high hopes for 2021, but for various reasons the event changed both date and location - this didn't work for us so we deferred our entry.  We talked about it occasionally but it was still a bit of a shock to check the calendar and realise that I was somehow due to run Stockholm Marathon, Endure24 and a hilly trail marathon all in the space of 22 days.   What could possibly go wrong?

We had a brief strategy meeting at a post parkrun coffee but that was really limited to 'as you've got the day off on Friday can you grab a space for us to set up camp?' and a brief agreement that a lap per hour was acheivable.  I was still frantically packing late on Friday evening so that I could set out bright and early on Saturday morning.  Friday was a blisteringly hot day, the forecast suggested that it might be a little cooler, with an outside chance of the odd, brief shower.  I threw in a waterproof jacket, and, as an afterthought, a coat. 

Saturday morning dawned warm and sunny.  I grabbed a bottle of factor 50 sunscreen, threw it into the car and set off.  Of course I arrived before John, but thanks to the photos he'd sent and a friend of his telling me that I couldn't park there because John was saving the space, I managed to locate his tent! As we had to arrive by 9am if we wanted to drive to the camping area we then had to hang around for three hours.  So we decided that food would be a good idea.  We'd both bought enough food to feed a small army, but a bacon roll seemed like a better plan.

The race village was less busy than in previous years, but we still had quite a queue at the catering tent - we wondered how they would cope when things got busy.  Only having one person able to take payment seemed like it might slow things down a lot, but we weren't too worried - we'd be too busy running and eating our own food to need to use the catering tent.  

John ran the odd numbered laps and I took the even ones.  The course was basically the same as in previous years, with a few of the more technical areas smoothed out, and an extra loop around the camping field to make up the distance.  We used a white board to communicate and keep track of lap times.  We were visited by one of John's children and his wife.  Strange to think that when we booked to do this event John had yet to meet his future wife!  On paper it all looked to be going rather well.  We were ahead of our schedule.  The weather had cooled down considerably and there had been a  few showers of rain.  But I was in pain.   I found the fact that someone was waiting for me so they could run quite stressful.  I could ignore it for the first couple of laps, but the stop/start nature of running as a pair seemed to make things worse.  I'd run my lap, get a drink, stretch a bit, sit down and just as I was starting to relax it was time to start again.  After four laps I left a note saying I was going to run/walk my fifth lap and then consider my options.  And at the end of my fifth lap I left a message saying that I was going to have a cup of tea then toddle  off to the massage tent and would not be running again.  I had a little cry and felt a bit sorry for myself while drinking my tea but it was pissing down with rain so I don't think anyone will have realised!

At the massage tent I was met by Shelley's smiling face and bionic fingers.  The thought of anyone touching my leg  made me feel a bit nauseous - but it helped a lot.  While I was on Shelley's table John appeared in the tent.  He booked the next slot with Shelley, and I laughed about the fact that I had apologised for not waxing my legs! It was probably about 9.30pm when John, still on the table said 'I'm done, I'm not going out again!'  I could have jumped for joy - if I'd had any energy left. 

We set off to investigate the hot food situation.  John joined the very long queue, I went to the beer tent to get us a drink.  He was still queuing when I got back.  The queues were exacerbated because they kept running out of food - we eventually got our food just before 11pm!  We were happy with out decision to stop, the weather was cold, wet and windy, we were both suffering, we had nothing to gain by carrying on.  We weren't enjoying ourselves so we decided to get some sleep and see how things looked in the morning.  

It looked sunnier!  After a cup of tea and some porridge I decided to do another lap, to even up the distances between us.  It was sunny but still chilly so I went out in my leggings intending to walk.  It got warm rather quickly and I regretted the leggings!  John did another, rather speedy, lap followed by one more form me to take us both to 35 miles. We handed out timing chips in there and then so that we wouldn't be tempted by 'just one more' lap!

The benefit of not following our plan is that we actually got to spend some time with each other and we, hopefully, haven't totally wrecked our bodies for next weekend.  I think we both felt that running as a pair could be our least favourite way of doing Endure, having said that I have never been part of a larger team, maybe I can rectify that next year.  

As always it was good to see running friends, some of whom I don't think I've seen since pre pandemic days.  It was amazing to see some of the truly amazing running going on around us and to chat to other runners.  Our running vests got lots of comments, even if we only got one mention from the commentator - who sounded as though he had bitten off more than he could chew when he realised what he was announcing that Team Bigg Dick was about to cross the line. 

Overall it was a good event, different to previous years which is inevitable as the management has changed.  I am not convinced all the changes were for the better.  Charges for supporters were new this year, but I am not sure how rigorously this rule was enforced.  In the past solo places have always sold out really quickly and solo runners were the exception rather than the rule out on the course.  This year it seemed like most runners were solo and the large teams were the exception.  I haven't looked at the results and compared them to previous years - so it may just be my perception.  And the catering was a nightmare!  I pity anyone who, based on the efficient service offered in previous years. opted to rely on it this year. 

Stockholm Marathon

Having managed to persuade a friend to run a second marathon the search was on to find a suitable destination to tempt him out to play.  We needed somewhere 'interesting', preferably somewhere we hadn't been before and definitely somewhere that was easy to get to.  Stockholm seemed to fit the bill.  It had the advantage of being held on a Saturday rather than a Sunday, which meant that we could have a day to relax, post marathon, before flying home. 

Six of us, five runners and a solo support team, flew out on Wednesday of half term, we spent the first few days doing 'tourist stuff' of which there is plenty.  We barely scratched the surface of this beautiful city.  We had factored in an afternoon to 'do the expo' based on Boston, Paris and London marathon expos we thought that this would be just about enough. I think we spent about 30 minutes there - and that was only because I was so cold that I went back to buy a long sleeved top at the last minute.  

Saturday morning dawned bright, sunny and much warmer than the previous few days.  We had a leisurely breakfast at the hotel.  Just what does one eat, and when, for a marathon that starts at noon?  Noon, for heaven's sake!  Right when we should be thinking about finding somewhere to eat lunch was when they were expecting us to start running! Sunglasses were retrieved from bags, sunscreen was liberally applied to exposed skin and we headed to the start.  We'd been told that all bags must be checked by 11am and so, along with everyone else, we decided to arrive just before 11am to start the fun, pre marathon warmup of standing in queues - the bag drop one wasn't too bad, but the queues for the portaloos were HUGE as there did not seem to be enough portaloos for such a big crowd.  We then waited, in the sun (24c) on the astroturf, trying to understand the announcements over the tannoy, before deciding that we might as well try to make our way to the start.  

The Swedish national anthem was sung at the start line, and then we were off.  It was very crowded at the start and there were a lot of people who had optimistically predicted times much faster than they were going to achieve as they were walking within the first kilometre!  Quite near the start the course split - without any warning - this was a bit alarming, even more so when we later heard that the winner of the marathon had been sent the wrong way TWICE during the race.  He ran an extra 1.1k and despite this extra distance he missed breaking the course record by less than one minute.  

Poor signage was a feature of this race.  The kilometre markers were few and far between, the water stations were frequent, but most of the volunteers tended to stand behind the tables (which were only on one side of the road) rather than in front of them handing out cups.  This meant that if you wanted to grab water you had to slow right down and pick a cup off the table - it got quite congested!  

The route was beautiful - we were taken round lots of beautiful buildings, over lots of bridges as we hopped from island to island.  It is just as well that the scenery was stunning because the crowds were somewhat muted.  It felt as though they were waiting for the person they knew to run past - they would cheer them and then fall silent again. 

I'd run the first few miles with Husbando, but knew that he would want to run faster than me.  I was in some discomfort with Morten's Neuroma and hadn't really trained for this race.  I wasn't overly worried as I was just doing this one 'for fun!'  I wanted to get home in under four hours, but that was it.  Husbando wanted to get a BQ (Boston Qualifying) time.  Given that his target was four minutes faster than my PB I'd have been silly to try to keep up!

The route is far from flat, that and the surprisingly warm weather, seemed to take their toll on a lot of runners.  There were lots of walkers from the halfway point onwards.  You generally get one or two people who have blown up having gone out too fast, but this was different, I was running past people who were walking all the time.   

The finish line was in the Olympic Stadium.  Here there was a little more crowd support, but I think I was oblivious to it!  Monday night track training kicked in, I moved to the inside lane and picked up the pace!  Not sure how fast I ran that last 300m, but it bought my pace for the last half mile down to 8.15min/mile (overall for the marathon was something like 8.42min/mile and I'd slowed down for the previous few miles).  

The rest of the gang had run well - PBs for two of them, including a BQ for Husbando.  Post race faffing occurred.  Funny how hard it is to even walk the minute you stop.  Husbando is now eagerly awaiting the opening of the Boston marathon registration process, the other PB has told us to shoot him if he ever mentions running a third marathon.  

Would I run Stockholm marathon again?  Probably not, it felt a little disorganised at times, but I would definitely come back to Stockholm.  I would very probably run a half marathon.  In fact I think that foreign half marathons might be the way forward.  They don't take over the whole trip the way a marathon does!  My other regret about this trip is that I didn't get to do a Swedish parkrun.  It wasn't sensible, or practical given the timings, to run one on Saturday and, because I had to be back in school on Monday, we couldn't stay to run the extra 'Sweden Day' parkrun on Monday.  Hopefully we can go back to Sweden soon...