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Edinburgh Marathon - 26th May

Fourth marathon of twelve! Only 8 to go! I was on a massive high the weeks after the Newport marathon. Not only had I managed to get around the course in under 5 hours again but I had made a solid friend with Simon who is now meeting me at the Yeovil event in June and taking on the New Forest Marathon with me in September. The response I’ve had from friends, family and strangers has been overwhelming too. Even a tweet from Phil Hewitt, whose books I’d only recently finished reading.

Recovery was going well and my body seemed absolutely fine and rested bar a few aesthetic things (who needs toenails anyway?) but after a shitty week at work and a few unexpected hiccoughs financially, I plummeted into a bit of a weird place which threw my training off. No panic.....or so I thought.

I had been nervous but looking forward to going to Edinburgh for a while. Not only because of the marathon but to take a look around the city again with some exceptional company. I head to Huntingdon early on Friday morning to meet Chris so we could chill out a little ahead of getting to the airport later in the afternoon. The journey was pretty uneventful which I’m grateful for. We checked into the room which was warm and cozy and exactly what I needed ahead of the big day. We headed out in Edinburgh and stumbled into a few bars which was perhaps not my cleverest of ideas before a marathon.

Saturday morning comes and I had agreed to meet a friend, Louisa who is moving up to Edinburgh in the new year and we did park run together. Just a leisurely pace around Figgate Park which I thought would be a good sense check to see what’s pulling and where so I can strap up and prepare ahead of Sunday.

It was such a lovely day to just walk around the city with Chris although in retrospect probably did a bit too much walking but it was so lovely to have the chance to catch up with friends, family and see the city. I do love Edinburgh.

We got back to the hostel relatively early, and after I strap myself up, head for an early night.

Morning arrives and it’s absolutely pissing it down outside. Trying to force down some food despite the inevitable butterflies taking hold in my stomach. The cab is ordered and before we know it we’re at the start line. Thankfully where we were dropped off was right by the luggage lorries. A little sweet talking to the staff meant that Chris could drop his bags in with mine instead of lugging it around all day.

The rain is till coming down so I don my Scotland themed poncho (classy) and make my way down to the start pens, via a cafe to use the toilet and to keep warm. My friend Thomas managed to pop in to wish me luck too which was lovely!

Getting closer to 10am and taking my place in the starting pen, I’m unusually not feeling the pre run excitement. I can’t decide if this is the rain or nerves took over the excitement or what. The gun goes and the crowds surge and here we go.

The crowds were great but really quiet. I definitely think the rain put a literal dampener on spirits and everyone was cold and wet before it had even begin but there we were, on our way to the finish line. All that was in the way was 26.2 miles of road and weather.

The route was wonderful. There’s something about running through a city on an event day that just doesn’t compare to anything else. After the flatness of Newport I studied the route map for Edinburgh so I could try and pace myself as I knew it would be hillier. Downhill for the first  6 miles and then up and down for the remaining 21 miles with long stretches of flat which is great. 

Encountering the first hill, disaster struck though. Something didn’t feel right in my stomach all day and at mile 3, pulling myself uphill it happened. My first marathon puke. It was mostly water and the gel that I had just had but I was running on empty from that point on.

The mental struggle is real and even as I write this 3 days after the marathon I’m not sure how I got around. My body wasn’t coping with the weather, the hills or with food so it seemed, and my head was convincing me that it would be so easy for me to drop out. No one would be upset and probably would understand if I told them I wasn’t coping. Another part of me though pulled each foot one in front of the other; my own internal shame at not finishing and the disappointment at not completing the 12 marathons in 12 months as I had planned. 11 in 12 months doesn’t quite have the same feeling.

I ran when I could and walked when it felt too much on my stomach. Weirdly though, I think I had my water intake right this time. I didn’t need to stop for the loo at all this time around...... that could have been dehydration though!

The race does seem a bit of a blur now, I remember the scenery being absolutely breath taking and seeing CALM runners and friends run the course certainly helped but the head wind on the final 7 miles of the course made the home stretch a real challenge and I did slow to a walk for a lot of that. I’m not happy that I had to walk as much as I did BUT I am so proud for having completed the route.

Having Louisa and Chris in the crowd to cheer me on especially in that final home stretch around 22 miles was the boost I needed and I rallied to run the final few miles when I could.

5:14:16

4 minutes slower than Brighton BUT so much prouder of having achieved this when I could have so easily fallen apart at mile 3 and dropped out.

Sitting down on the grass in what was now beautiful sunshine, I wept. Not even embarrassed to admit it. I’m still surprised at where I got the strength to pull myself around the course from. I still have no idea but I can understand now why people have these spiritual experiences when running. It certainly does feel other worldly when you reach the finish line when you have nothing left.

Chris met me soon after and thrust a beer into my hands which I am so grateful for. A hug and some warmth and just some time to sit still with company after a gruelling 5 hours on my feet was perfect. Offered pizza by a stranger which I promptly inhaled despite the warnings you get as a child; I think when it comes to running, accepting sweets, water, fruit and pizza from strangers is just par for the course.

We collected our bags and grabbed a cab back into the city for some food before heading to the airport to catch the flight back.

Chris was so wonderful to me all weekend but after a tough marathon I don’t think I’d have managed the journey home by myself on my own steam.

Touching down in Luton after 10pm with another hours drive to Huntingon, made it a very long day in which Chris did exceptionally well at looking after me and making sure I ate.

Arriving back, Chris made sure I had a drink to replenish fluids, a shower and insisted I get straight into bed. I was done, pleased with what I had achieved at the marathon but done all the same.

It was eye opening and in the lead up to the next one in 3 weeks time, preparation is key. No more fucking about. I’m a marathon runner now.

Yeovil will be a challenge but I’m actually excited about it. Each marathon brings with it a new adventure. Yeovil, here I come.

[runningblogofanunfit30somet-blog]

Newport Marathon - 5th May

Third marathon of twelve! 25% there!  The weeks after Brighton I was fairing better than I did after Manchester. My recovery and mental health seemed pretty steady and have friends to thank for that. A lot of encouragement, praise and reminders to eat properly/drink water went a long way.  Going to Cheddar Gorge the weekend after and just chilling out in nature just settled me I think. Followed by a training run and supporting the CALM runners at the London Marathon the following weekend definitely got me back into the routine and prep for Newport the week after. 

Heading to the station immediately after work on the Friday night, I was early yet again but treated myself to the usual sushi but this time with a prosecco (interesting mix) and settled into “Outrunning the Demons”, the second book from Phil Hewitt about his running, this time including a collection of stories from others who have found comfort, healing and a future in running. Thoroughly inspiring, all the more so because fellow CALM runner and friend Paul Shepherd’s story is included. 

Very grateful that in my planning for all the races I’ve managed to reserve a seat each time so I knew I had somewhere to sit on a weirdly busy train on an 8pm train to Newport. 

I arrived into Newport gone 10pm and was a short walk to the airbnb. Thankfully, my host had been in touch to confirm my arrival and was so lovely when I arrived! Airbnb have been redeemed after the Manchester debacle. 

The room was gorgeous and warm and even included some breakfast snacks which were very welcome when you’re on a budget. 

A very lazy day on the Saturday but got out and took a trip into Cardiff for a wander around and to give my legs a good stretch ahead of the marathon the following day. It was beautiful! I love Cardiff and Newport, even more so when the sun is out! 

Back at the flat early and settle in for the night with some documentaries and some decent food. 

The morning comes and the short walk into Newport central was easy enough. There wasn’t much signage at that time of the morning but found myself inadvertently following some runners who looked like they knew where they going. Thankfully they did. 

I hadn’t received my number in the post as expected but a quick phonecall to the organisers in the week had it sorted without issue. On the day it was as simple as heading to the race organisers desk and getting a replacement number. 

Although it was only 8:30am the day was warming up and after the variable weather of Brighton, I learnt my lesson. Strip back and take an extra layer in your saloman bag in case. I’m not in it for speed. I just need to finish the race so carrying the extra weight of a top won’t make any odds. 

My running gear sort and bib number pinned, I head over to the bag drop which was the smoothest and most thorough I’ve seen at a race, checking bags through by security before runners leave their bags in their allotted area. 

As I was coming out and heading to the start line I saw the familiar flash of neon orange. Another CALM runner! I went over to say hello and introduce myself. We got talking and I found out this was Simon’s first full marathon. He asked if it would be okay if we ran together; I was secretly quite flattered.  

We head to the start line and the nerves are starting to creep in. It only dawns on me as I’m in the crowd of runners that I’m setting off on yet another 26.2 miles. It should feel routine by now and to a degree it does...except the run itself! It’s still a huge physical challenge but Newport just surpassed all expectations and realities. 

3, 2, 1 *gun* Here we go on another mission, this time with Simon alongside me. 

The crowds were just so amazing and seemed so genuine too. The TV presence and radio interviewers up and down the route for the first 2km definitely added extra hype to what we were doing. 

The route was exceptional too. Flat as a pancake bar a couple of railway bridges. With Simon alongside me too it was lovely to have some company along the way and be able to chat. 

Around the mile 9 mark a fellow runner came alongside us to thank us for running for CALM. He told us that he’d lost his dad to suicide and the realisation of why we’re doing this. For those we’ve lost and for those we can save.

Mile 11 and the final half a mile where by far my favourites of the course. An entire village it seems turned out at mile 11 to cheer you on. The enthusiasm and genuine joy from the crowd as you pass them gives you such a high. 

It was shortly after mile 11 that Simon and I parted company, he was in fine shape but I think my pace was slightly outside of what was comfortable for him but made a promise to see him at the finish line. We start together, we finish together. 

The rest of the race seems a bit of a blur, not for any bad reason at all but more in the way that it seems like it all fell into place this time. My pacing was good, my nutrition was on point, my mental block seemed far away and I felt like I just floated. 

Similarly to Manchester, I didn’t have anyone there to cheer me on specifically but the crowds were so genuine that everyone who called out willed my, fairly sore, feet on to the finish. 

4:23:47

30 seconds slower than my Manchester time but another time I am so absolutely proud of. In my head I wanted a personal best but running with Simon for the and hearing his story was a far more moving experience than any PB could have done for me. 

I got my bags, had some snacks to fuel up and head back to the finish line, as promised, to see Simon over the line which he did in 5:15:33: a thoroughly respectable time for his first!

We went and grabbed a Nandos to decompress and recover ahead of catching the train from Newport at around 5pm. Simon was my godsend that day, just such a genuine guy and has opened his home to me ahead of the Yeovil Marathon in June and will also be joining me for his second full marathon, my seventh marathon of my challenge, in the New Forest which just so happens to be the day before my birthday  

We head to the station and departed company, my train arriving just a few minutes before his own. 

Newport got it right and everything feels like it fell into place this time. The organisation, the hype, the crowds, the route, just everything about this one secures it as one of my favourites so far..... there’s still 9 left to do so will be interesting to see how it compares at the end. 

So thrilled with finishing Newport, that the future marathons ahead are met with excited anticipation, rather than nerves now.  Onwards to Edinburgh. 

[runningblogofanunfit30somet-blog]

Brighton Marathon - 14th April

Second marathon of twelve! YES 12! 

Ah man, my head was all over the place after Manchester. The high of getting that PB and the crash of tiredness and aches just had me all over the shop. Unlike Manchester, I only had a week to prepare for Brighton, unpacking, getting the laundry done and repacking ahead of my trip down to East Worthing on Friday after work.  Typically early at the station so treated myself to my favourite pre marathon food - sushi! If you’re running a marathon you are absolutely allowed to indulge right? Those are just the rules!  The train was PACKED but managed to squeeze myself into a seat. I’d forgotten it was the start of the Easter holidays for some which is the only explaination for why it was so busy at 8pm on a Friday.  Panic set in when it was announced that the train SPLIT at Heywards Heath. FFS the signs could’ve been a little more helpful especially as they said that the train went all the way to Hove which is where I needed to change. Mad dash to the front of the train, suitcase in tow was not exactly planned but managed to get to Hove and change for the final leg into East Worthing. 

The room was beautiful and was grateful for a shower when I arrived. Cooked breakfast in the morning too - YUM!

Saturday comes and I head into Brighton to pick up my number, nerves starting to creep in as I suddenly realise that my body doesn’t seem to be aching from Manchester only 6 5 days before, but my heads just not in the game. Tiredness and a weird week at work I think BUT I had arrived, registered and I was doing it regardless. 

I managed to time it just right both missing the queue and the rain to go and collect my number. I mostly hung around the CALM tent all day to meet the other runners and just chill out  ahead of the run. It got to 6pm though and I had frozen my tits off in the rain and just needed to head back to the B&B, eat and sleep ahead of the big day. 

As is typical, I couldn’t sleep or at least what sleep I did get was minimal. Taped up, showered, hair done, nails cut, the alarm goes off at 6:30am and I head down for an early breakfast where I meet Martin, another runner. 

I decided on grabbing a cab to the start pens and offer Martin a lift as I’m heading down anyway and there’s no point in us both paying to get there. 

Heading towards the event village and start pens I can feel the usual butterflies in my belly. The routine of getting your number on, dropping of your bag and waiting in the seemingly endless queues for pre race piss is all part of race day.  I manage to find CALM and join in for the group photo. It’s always so emotional when you hear the stories and reasons why others are running. It’s such a personal cause and makes it all hit home a bit. 

Betsy and Seedy are kind enough to offer to stick my suitcase in their boot as it’s too big for the baggage lorries - FUCK! A quick walk to the car and back served well as a warm up and they are honestly so lovely too. It was a nice way to calm the nerves and I decided that I would drop back a few pens to start the race with them. There was no pressure to hit my previous personal best of the previous week, just getting around it would be enough for me. 2 marathons in the space of 8 days? I must be mad! 

The race starts and I feel the excitement surge into adrenaline as we pass cameras, commentators and supportive family and friends and then I was flying, or at least it felt like that - looking back, those early hills really hit hard if you weren’t ready. However, the first few miles seemed to effortlessly drop away, most likely because I made the most of the downhills and let gravity do the work for me. It was around the 5km mark I bumped into Lizzy who came down to support me! SO GOOD TO HAVE FACES IN THE CROWD. I cannot stress this enough! Supporters really do give you the boost you need. 

This was perhaps also my downfall though, the surge of energy and excitement perhaps threw my pace off. I was aware I wasn’t being as fast as Manchester but that didn’t matter. What did matter though was that I wasn’t being consistent or keeping an eye on my hydration. This would come back to haunt me later. 

At mile 5 I saw Lizzy again who, with endless encouragement tells me I’m doing really well and keeping a good pace and sends me on my way again. 

Down another hill was mile 6 and the official CALM cheer point and THEY are just amazing. The wonderful Hannah Goodwin takes the best action photos! Another surge of energy sends me on my way out along the sea front, towards miles 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11. I pass the CALM cheer point again at mile 12 which, after almost an hour of ENDLESS FUCKING HILLS, is the high point I needed to send me into the second half of the marathon. 

This is where I started to fall apart. 

As I pass the halfway mark, the lead woman passes me the other way. I still have another 14 (ish) miles to go and she’s fucking finishing! 

The crowds were immense in and around the park and seeing the guerrilla CALM cheerers were the spark that really kept you going. Until mile 14. 

There was a very unhappy rumble in my belly. Passing a church with a “toilets open” sign was indeed the sign from god that day as I went into full evacuation mode. 

10 minutes were spent locked in silent terror in that toilet. I was asked by a kindly woman if I was okay and explained, I’d had a bit of an upset stomach and managed a smile and returned to the race. 

At mile 15 I managed to spot Ally in the crowd! Another kindly face to spur me on when my body was defying me to continue. She gave me a hug, electrolyte water, energy gels and the much needed encouragement to will my now aching body into movement. 

The toughest part of the race was ahead. The rolling streets and endless turn backs, seeing runners both ahead and behind you made it really difficult to judge where exactly you were and what time you were heading for. 

The absolutely could crushing part of the race though was between miles 18 - 22, a dockyard industrial estate, with few spectators, no view, no music, just you, the road and thousands of other pained runners. Seeing Paul run the other way past me, had me in tears. He stopped and gave me a very much needed hug to will me on just the few more miles to the finish. 

The sea finally came into view and I knew I was close to finish. Ally and her wonderful face was there again, this time trying to live stream as I run past for my uncle in America. A hug, some more water and more encouragement than I deserved and I was back on my way. Just round the corner, there was the lovely Lizzy again who jogged with me for a bit which was so nice. Having someone alongside you in your pain, telling you how well you’re doing is really the best. She was just soo good to me on that day. A little way further still and Shona was there shouting my name! She was across the road so I couldn’t stop for the much needed hug but with only half a mile from the finish I had the end in sight. 

5:10:38

A respectable time and I’m not even remotely ashamed or embarrassed. I was not on form that day physically or mentally but I did it. A sixth of my challenge complete. 

Feeling pleased with myself and loaded up with all the freebies the marathon sponsors were willing to throw at me, I made my way to the CALM tent where I happily tucked into snacks and cider and basked in the tired celebration of other runners and endless energy of the supporters. That day belongs to them. I wouldn’t have made it round if it were not for their support. Genuinely and sincerely. 

The train back to Brighton was slow and full but I had Shona’s lovely company and hugs aplenty. She even treated me to cab ride home to save my legs. 

That race, was beautiful but tough. It’s one thing to respect the distance, because 26.2 miles is a bloody long way, it’s another thing to misjudge it though. The hills, the heat and the wind combined with exploding guts and a head not quite in the game gave me a new definition in which to judge my ability.

I did it. Onwards to Newport.

[runningblogofanunfit30somet-blog]

Here we go...

These are the internal ramblings of a 30-something who took to running in January 2017 like a giraffe takes to being fired out a canon. This is my journey, the highs, the lows, the races, the medals, the glory and the pain in the grizzly detail.  I’m coming to this in April 2019 so there’s a lot of old stuff I’m going to include here but I’ll *eventually* get to current races which is the spark that caused all of this! 

[runningblogofanunfit30somet-blog]

Manchester Marathon - 7th April

Well Jesus Christ that was emotional...

First marathon of the year, still 11 more to do and I’ve just realised a mistake in my diary for one of them meaning that I’ll be running a marathon every weekend of October - FUCK!

Anyway, back to present day and Manchester Marathon.

I wasn’t too nervous in the lead up to this, I guess because I had London under my belt and I was going into it with no pressure on completing it by a certain time. All I needed to do was finish the thing.

So, my bag, typically, was packed the Wednesday before travelling up on the Saturday morning. I like to give myself a buffer of a few days because there will ALWAYS be something I remember I need. This time it was my phone charger.

Saturday morning arrives and the journey to Manchester goes swimmingly. Arrive in good time to check in to my AirBnB so decide a leisurely lunch at Pizza Express (classy right?!) which I virtually inhaled, followed by a quick walk around the Industrial Museum. The sun even came out, which was nice but I was soon cursing at it to piss off before the marathon. I am NOT running in heat like that again thank you very much!

Get to my AirBnB for the check in time of 3pm and my host DOESN’T ANSWER! Cue a very stressful hour of sitting on the curb outside the flat trying to get in and some very stern words with AirBnB. My host eventually cancels the booking completely and I end up bunking in with a fellow CALM runner (bless Rory! THANK YOU)

A fairly chilled evening with Rory eating as many calories and carbs as possible before a relatively early night. With my insomnia and Rory’s sleep issues though I can’t imagine between us we were too rested!

Race day arrives and nerves ahead of the start but I manage to force some food down and head to the bag drop.

It’s fucking freezing though and everyone around me is either huddled like penguins or shivering on the periphery. I’m glad I kept my long sleeved running vest on....for now at least.

I say bye to Rory, who heads down to Pen D; I’m in Pen F so start a little while after him.

The gun goes and we see the smoke flares signalling the start. We start to jostle forward, jumpers and hoodies being thrown to the side, picked up by the British Heart Foundation, and then about 9:20 I cross the start. Onwards....

The course itself was unremarkable. That sounds harsh but 26.2 miles of motorways, industrial parks and dual carriage ways IS a bit dull after a while. What really made the race were the crowds. Honestly, they were out in their droves at the start, with patches along the route but occasionally you’d pass a pub or a church acting as an unofficial pit stop, offering water, bananas, gummies and welcome toilet break for the hordes unlucky enough to miss the chance at the start. Music blaring, signs and cheers as loved ones passed were a real lift on a cold Mancunian morning.

The race is about 65% smaller than London Marathon with only 20,000 participants which made for fewer costumed runners and gave it the feeling that it was more ‘serious’ but the crowds and music soon changed that.

Mile 3 comes up and it’s now getting too hot to wear my long sleeved top. My smugness from earlier dissipates as hundreds of runners pass by as I change. I rejoin the course though, power through the rest break and am still averaging a 5:50km giving me plenty of time in hand to lose as I slow in the second half.

I had a bit of a moment as I passed Mile 8 (I think....it all blurs into 1 long sequence with time and distance losing all meaning) Firestarter was blaring out and just being reminded of Keith Flint and his recent death, coupled with the charity I am running for just made it all a bit real. I regrouped and ploughed on; now is not the time to be losing your shit Emma, you’re not even half way!

It was really nice to bump into fellow CALM runner, Chris Green at around the Mile 11 mark. It always gives you a lift to see others running for the same cause.

The halfway mark was amazing! The crowds were so on your side and cheering your every step even if the turn round point to run 13 miles back along more dual carriage ways wasn’t all that thrilling.

One thing I did find out this time around though was at the hydration points, POINT and make eye contact with the person you’re aiming for. It made the hand over a lot smoother, I didn’t have to slow down or worry about knocking it out their hands etc I’ll try it again this weekend and see if it works as smoothly again.

Being the shameless show off that I am, any time I saw a camera pointed my way I had to jump! Stupid now I think back on it as one bad landing could twist my knee, ankle, foot and it’d be game over by at that moment the small adrenaline burst was appreciated and made for some spectacularly awful/funny photos!

Mile 20 came around and willing my legs to move just that final 6.2 miles came easier after some quick sums. 6.1 miles is 10km approximately which I can run in about an hour at the pace I was going. Just 1 more hour and it’ll be done. Just one leg in front of the other and it’ll be done.

Between Mile 22 and Mile 24 though my legs were done, a short walk to try and stretch out my thighs and get myself together. Everything is hurting and after pounding the roads for more than 3 hours your muscles can only seem to run. Walking hurts but you step out into a stride again and you have the crowds behind you, you pick up the pace again. I still find it amazing that after 3 hours of running I could still manage to run a 5:48km!

Seeing Mile 25 ahead with the finish funnel in the distance was the spur I needed though. I was done. My body was screaming and the tears started. Just willing yourself over the line, putting on that smile for the crowds and the cameras whilst everything in you is begging you to sit down and rest takes more determination and strength than anyone lets on. 26.2 miles is a long fucking way!

I get to Mile 26 and the finish is in sight, the crowds are behind you, the cameras pointing at you and with the final surge of energy you have you get yourself to the line in whatever spectacular fashion you see fit. Some flail their arms (that’s me), some stretch arms out like they are welcoming rain, others hold hands with fellow runners and the more competitive sprint finish. Whatever way you do it, you made it over the line.

4:23:09

You collect your well earned medal, your goody bag (which this time around was 2 soreen loafs, t-shirt and a bottle of water) and head to the bag drop.

In that way that I tend to overthink and plan everything down to the smallest detail, I’d allowed myself a full 7 hours to complete the course meaning my train wasn’t due to leave until 6:55pm. An easy ride to the station, followed by a generous helping of sushi as a celebratory lunch, I decided to see if I could wangle myself onto an earlier train. There’s no way I had the energy to stay awake for a further 3 hours waiting for a train!

Ah ha! The 4:20 looked to do the job and my ticket was accepted (phew!) so I made my way in to the quiet coach for some sleep on the 2 hour journey back to London.

The ticket inspector came past and gently woke me, immediate panic as I knew I wasn’t on my booked train but the ticket scanned fine, a polite smile and quiet congrats from him was lovely to hear and he left me be.

Pulling into London Euston ahead of the time my original train was even due to leave Manchester was satisfying as I knew I now had time for a well earned soak when I got home!

Leaving the train the driver congratulated all the runners and some whoops and cheers came down the carriage. It’s nice to know you’re not alone; you feel special and part of something that for some may never be repeated.

Homeward bound and I roll through the door, into the bath and onto bed. I’d done it quicker than I had planned and is the 1st of 12 to complete this year.