So I haven’t always told the entire story about my reasons for running, and I feel like now is the right time to talk about it. I’ve written a piece for today’s Guardian Running Blog explaining why my running journey started.
Girl On the Run
Publishing girl, loves stories, loves running. Signed up for London Marathon 2014
Tag Archives: running
The One Where I Run The London Marathon …
I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to write this post, but to be honest I’ve had to stop running, talking about running and thinking about running since the marathon, just to deal with the enormity of it all. So, Sunday 13 April I ran the London Marathon and I couldn’t be happier. Here’s how the day went.
Travelling to the Red Start at Greenwich I chatted with other runners as it seemed the entire tube network was clogged with runners carrying bright red bags. I met my friend B (from Secret Tuesday Running Club) and after putting our bags in the baggage trucks we spent about 40 minutes queuing for the toilet. I had been advised to queue up, go to the loo and then queue again but there was no time for that as it was ten minutes to the start of the race.
Start line self with B. she finished in 4:40!! Amazing!!
I crossed the start line at 10.17, according to the online tracker, which my family on the course were using to find me. They were all wearing TEAM AUNTIE HELLY T-shirts and were in a group of ten so I wasn’t going to miss them. Or so I thought.
The start line from way back in pen 7!
The weather was really hot right from the start and as someone who hates running in any heat over about 10 degrees, I knew this was going to kill me. But I can honestly say I loved every second of the first 18 miles. I chatted to people – outlandishly claiming IAM THE OYMPIC LEGACY to people who looked unimpressed, confused and in some cases frightened. I high fived children, took sweets from people and then remembered I couldn’t eat because I hadn’t practiced eating and running (mental) and I even had time to stop for a quick sip of G&T with some friends before I realised I hadn’t practiced that either and would spend the following seven miles wondering if I was going to shit my pants (spoiler alert: I didn’t).
Cutty Sark at 6 miles. Just before I saw my family for the first time. So happy at this point.
Crossing Tower Bridge. Woooooah!! The crowds were mental. Good mental, but certainly mental. Loved it.
Thanks Janine for snapping me swigging a G&T on my first marathon. Not sure my running club would approve of this!
It was all going so well. Right up until 18 miles and then I massively hit the wall. And to all of those people who told me there is no such thing as the wall – there bloody well is. And it’s bloody horrible. I saw my family for a second time just after 18 miles and instead of high fiving I cried like a lunatic before carrying on sobbing to myself and desperately trying to catch my breath.
The best support team – Team Auntie Helly!
I started the dreaded run/walk strategy from 21 miles and battled with the fact I hated myself for walking but also hated myself for even entering the marathon in the first place. At one point I think I might have wanted to throw myself into the Thames. My family came to see me at mile 21 and apparently I was so focused (probably on stopping myself from jumping into the Thames) that I missed them all – despite the fact there were 10 of them, all wearing identical t-shirts, screaming at the top of their voices about a metre away from me. Sorry Team Auntie Helen.
Wise words from the Lucozade tunnel take-over at mile 23. Not long to go.
The final mile, from Embankment, past the Houses of Parliament and onto Birdcage Walk was amazing. I was in so much pain, the heat was immense and the crowds were deafening. I told myself I hadn’t come to walk down The Mall so I ran the last mile and a half chanting ‘One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other’ on a constant loop like a maniac. I couldn’t look anyone in the face and I blocked out the hysterical screaming around me and I just ran.
One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other …
Finally crossing the finish line!
Turning right onto The Mall is something that still fills me with such pride and joy that I can’t think about it without wanting to cry. I have never seen anything like it. There were people all over – six, seven deep in some places, people hanging out in the fountains and all of them with the biggest smiles they could possibly muster – all screaming us along as we took those final steps. And there, just 200 metres away was the bright red finish gantry. Running past the grandstands 5 hours and 20 minutes after starting at Greenwich I felt more full of energy than I had in the entire 26 miles. I was just a minute or so away from completing my first marathon. This is a feeling I will remember till the day I die. The proudest moment of my life and the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And it was so worth it. I AM A MARATHONER.
Can’t believe it
As a footnote, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone who came to support me on the day. I genuinely don’t think I could have run it without knowing you were all there (somewhere) cheering me on. And to my long suffering boyf, Josh, I am so sorry for all of those marathon meltdowns, early morning runs and the constant talk of missing toe nails and pee colour. Let’s hope we both get a ballot place next year so we can go through it together. Whoop whoop!
Thank you all x
The One Five Days Before the London Marathon …
My current internal monologue …
Oh God, I have a muffin top. Tapering is making me fat.
Would cropped running tights or full length make me look slimmer. Must remember to do a fat-test in the mirror later. Add that to the to-do list.
I only wish I had had a more positive response to the question ‘Can I wear Spanx whilst running a marathon?’
[To boyf] Wake up!! Do you think I’m putting weight on? I think I’ve put weight on.
[Boyf briefly opens his eyes with a look I’ve seen on wildlife documentaries, right before the lion eats its prey. Makes a token ‘You’re not fat’ comment and rolls over]
Well, I have put weight on. And I don’t think I’ve put in enough training. This is going to be a nightmare. Should I do a long-ish run tonight?
No, you shouldn’t run tonight, you mentalist! It’s five days before the marathon. This isn’t in the plan. STICK TO THE PLAN.
I think my knees aching. Is it an ache or a pain? Pain score it.
Erm, it’s a 6. Is 6 good or bad? I need emergency physio.
How early can I call the physio? What time is it anyway? 6am!!!
Why can’t I sleep beyond 6am anymore? This has happened every morning for almost a week.
I bet I oversleep on Sunday morning. Must remember to set more than one alarm. Add that to the to-do list. I’m probably going to need another bit of paper. It’s quite long.
Is everyone else running London going through this?
The One Where the Madness Begins …
Okay, so it’s three weeks until the London Marathon and I’ve gone mad. Actually mad. For anyone who read my blog around the time of my Great North Run last year, you’ll be familiar with how my mind works and should have expected some kind of mental breakdown this close to race day. For those who haven’t read those insane blog posts, good luck, you’re entering a world of madness and meltdowns.
Final details!
Last week I had a week off running. I know all of the advice on tapering says DO NOT STOP RUNNING!! But I felt so exhausted after my last long run (15 miles) that I could barely walk to my office from the station without my legs threatening to give out. So I stopped and had a week of stretching, foam rollering and early nights. It was amazing. However, this extra time gave my mind chance to wander around in circles and generally drive me insane. This is what I’ve been thinking about.
- Can I run in a pair of Spanx? This seems much easier than the core exercises I’m currently doing day and night.
- Is it wrong to consider my pre-race spray tan as essential as my final sports massage?
- Will my family make it to London okay or will they get stuck in some football-related traffic on the A1 (Dad, thanks for adding that recent worry to my list!)
- What if I’m the last person out there and have to move out of the way for the road cleaning team at the back? Oh God.
- I get my period on race day! Most period days feel like my insides are trying to eat their way out of my body whilst my mind looks on and cries to itself. How is this conducive to running 26 miles?
- How is my relationship going to last the next three weeks? The last few months have been bad enough – tears before and after runs, missing toe nails, unflattering injury tape all over my legs, and now three weeks of meltdowns. Good look boyf!
20 long days to go …
The One Where I Talk to Myself for 21 Long Miles …
This weekend a remarkable thing happened … I ran 21 miles. Erm, did you get that? 21 miles! I get tired just driving 21 miles let alone running it. I am obviously skipping over the memory of wanting to vomit my own spleen and running like my legs were on fire.
I went out on Saturday morning before the sun came up and was about 8 miles in before I wanted to scream ‘For the love of God, why is it so hot?’ to everyone I came across. The irony that I’ve spent the last few months complaining about the cold, wind and rain is not lost on me. Rest assured of that.
Kit check!
I decided that as it was my most difficult run yet, I needed something to keep my going, so I ran to my favourite place in London – Victoria Park in Hackney. I lived in the area for three years and miss it dearly. I’ve managed to overwrite all of my memories of gangland killings and the sight of the local youth running with armfuls of stolen goods during the riots. Instead I remember things like riding my bike to the local deli to buy cheese and getting drunk in the park every time the sun was even a little bit out. Ah, the joy of selected memory. Sadly my boyf doesn’t have the same thing and when I mention moving back to Hackney he reminds me about the price of car insurance and parking permits.
Anyway, Hackney, or specifically Victoria Park is beautiful in the sunshine and on Saturday it welcomed me back in all its sunny glory. I got into the park at just under 9 miles and joined a 10k run for a few laps, making it up to 12 miles before heading out on my return leg. I stopped briefly at 12 miles to get more water and after sitting down for five minutes lost all momentum and ended up looking like this.
Nine miles to go!
Everything was going okay until mile 15 when I started to doubt myself and spent a few miles telling myself I had to stop. It went a little bit like this …
Me: 14 miles, this is great, I’m doing so well.
Me: 15 miles. Oh for f***’s sake, I can’t take this any more. This is too much. Stop running.
Me: Don’t you dare stop running.
Me: Why did I ever think I could run a marathon? This is stupid. Perhaps I’m mental.
Me: Gah, why am I still running?
Me: Hang on, what’s happening to my hip? Oh God, my hip’s falling off. Can a hip fall off? It feels like it’s become detached. I can’t take it any more. And my knees are on fire. Are they actually on fire? I can’t see any smoke.
Me: STOP RUNNING!! JESUS CHRIST, JUST STOP RUNNING.
I did this for another five miles and almost cried when I heard my running app say ‘20 miles’. The only thing that stopped me was the fear of losing more body salt and imminent death.
I was going to walk the final mile but found walking strangely more painful than running, so instead I spent the last part of my running like a robot in need of some WD40. But I did it! 21.2 miles done and just five weeks to go.
21 miles done!
A self-congratulating post-run selfie
The One Where I Navigate a Rally Track and Blame it all on Google
Yesterday I learnt a valuable running lesson, and I think you should all hear it. NEVER TRUST GOOGLE WALKING DIRECTIONS. As I set off on my longest run so far – 15 miles – little did I know that at least 10 of those miles would be spent shuffling and crying to myself along 60mph roads with no footpath. I was terrified. I know I tend to over exaggerate stuff for comedy effect but I can genuinely say, hand on heart, yesterday was one of the worst experiences of my running life.
Cars came hurtling towards me and behind me as I navigated blind bends as I whimpered to myself. A few times I had to jump into hedgerows and on more than one occasion I actually fell off the side of the road into a mound of mud and roadside rubbish. I spent the majority of time tangled by bramble bushes or running through road debris and flood water.
So, here are my top tips for keeping safe on the road:
- Indulge your eighties penchant for neon clothing. The brighter you are, the more visible you are to drivers – although some won’t care and will still drive incredibly fast, giving you an inch of room. Keep telling yourself that karma will get them.
- Turn your music off. At least then you’ll hear people honking at you to get out of the road, despite there being absolutely no pavement or room to move. Idiots.
- Check out your route. Had I have looked on Google Street View, I may have noticed the lack of pavements and Top Gear style rally track I was soon to be risking my life on.
- Turn back if you can. I kept telling myself a pavement will be right around the corner. It wasn’t. So I ended up doing the majority of the run in fear for my life. This is not at all helpful when running your longest ever distance.
The Day After the London Marathon
I just saw this video and it really cracked me up. Slightly worried that I’m actually already walking like this. I hate to think what I’ll look like on April 14th.
The one where I’m Injured, not injured, injured, not injured …
Today I ache. A lot. Since I last blogged this has happened:
- I ran 12 miles. Yay!
- I put my back out running 12 miles. Not so yay.
- My knees healed. Yay!
- I ran a half marathon and now my knees ache again. Not so yay.
Extreme knee taping
It’s fair to say that my marathon training has been turbulent. I’ve questioned myself, screamed in frustration, argued with my boyf, cried with pain and laughed in the face of strong head winds. It’s been a rollercoaster. And there are still seven weeks to go. I do not know how my nerves or knees will stand it.
Since my knee injury in November I’ve come close to deferring my entry to the marathon on at least five occasions and I’ve been inconsolable every time. Usually this outburst is followed by one pain free run and then I’m back to thinking I might be able to run the marathon.
Obviously this has caused me some stress and a considerable amount of anxiety. This is not good. At this point in my training I was hoping to be running long distances and looking forward to the day. Instead I’m a ball of anxious energy, liable to cry at any moment and I’m covered in freeze gel and heat pads.
At the finish line – just need to run double that in seven weeks!
I just hope crossing that finish line will be worth it.
The One Where I Commit the Ultimate Running Sin …
Sometimes with all the best will in the world you’ll lose your mind and commit a cardinal running sin. Last Sunday I went out for my long run without, dare I say it, going to the toilet. Blaspheme! Blaspheme! I hear you shout. Ten Hail Paulas and a slap round the face with a foam roller.
Well my fellow running friends, don’t you worry, I got my comeuppance 2 miles in when my stomach hurt so much I thought Freddie Krueger’s head might burst out. I managed to run another half a mile while I genuinely weighed up the notion of whether to shit in a tree or not. This is who I am now. When faced with the options of shitting in a tree and letting my entire family down just so I can complete my long run or go home go to the toilet, alarmingly I chose the former. Or at least I would have done it if there had been leaves on the trees and I hadn’t been wearing a neon jacket. Instead I shuffled back to my car with a face a painting of pure anguish and torture and drove home so fast I never went under third gear and I took all corners on two wheels. At one point there may have been smoke. I’m hoping it was the car.
This got me to thinking of all of the things I’ve learnt since I started running …
- Don’t overdress in the winter. An extra layer will do. Once you’ve heated up you’ll feel like you’re running in the stuff you lag your pipes with. Nobody needs that.
- Don’t be tempted to say hello to every other runner you pass. Some will smile or nod, others will look at you like you’ve just been dropped off to Earth on a spaceship, or they’ll write you off as a newbie. And for the love of God, do not try to talk to club runners during a race. They hate that. Save your jokes for the finish line.
- Don’t buy all of your kit the instant you decide to run. The moment I see someone running in matchy-matchy, shiny new kit, I immediately try to beat them. And I’m not even fast. Or competitive. Just buy stuff as you go along. Having proper trainers fitted for your running style is a must. As is a good sports bra (women and men with moobs only). The rest you can buy as you increase the miles. Nobody like showiness. Nobody.
- I’ve said it already but it needs reaffirming – never ever run without going to the toilet first. Nobody ever successfully ran on a poo. Don’t even try.
- Running can be hard. You’ll have good runs when you feel like you can outrun deer – you can’t – and you’ll have bad runs where you run slower than when you first started. Mind games will start and you’ll have convinced yourself you’re not made to run. You are! You just need to stick with it. A bad run is usually a one off, an oddity like Timmy Mallet or Pop Tarts. Forget about it and plan your next run. It could be your best one yet but you won’t find out until you run it.
Top ten things an injured runner will go through …
1. You’ll put yourself through pain …
Your pain threshold will increase as you’ll be constantly aware of that ache in your injury so you’ll be willing to try anything to make it better, like paying someone to stick needles in your ears. People will question how this will help you run a marathon and you won’t be able to answer them. You’ll start talking about energy sources and chi and you’ll lose your audience.
2. You’ll look like a Transformer …
You’ll alternate between icing and heating your leg in an attempt to stop the pain. When you’re not emptying the entire contents of your freezer onto yourself, you’ll be strapping heat pads to your legs and looking like a Transformer. You may rustle slightly when you’re moving around at work.
3. You’ll pay for someone to pummel you till you bruise …
You’ll actually hand over money for someone to give you the most excruciating massage of your life. At one point you might even think about reporting your physio for physical abuse as it is so barbaric. Then you’ll pay her for her time and realise you’re insane as you count your bruises. My record is 11 on one leg.
4. You’ll try other sports …
You’ll try anything to get running again. Even taking up a new sport. You’ll get over your many shark related fears and end up doing 40 lengths in the same time your boyfriend has done a thousand or you’ll sign up for Pilates and ritually humiliate yourself in front of strangers.
5. You’ll learn more about your body than you ever wanted to know …
Every ache, pain, twinge or movement your body makes will be carefully monitored. Before you know it, you’ll be mentally pain scoring yourself and debating the differences between a pain and an ache. You will begin to drive yourself mad.
6. You’ll always have a giant rubber band in your handbag …
These rubber bands will go with you everywhere and you’ll find yourself using them wherever you are. I regularly took mine to work and used them at my desk whilst having meetings. Your sense of what’s appropriate and what isn’t will become a little distorted.
7. You’ll become best friends with your foam roller …
You’ll become quite intimate with your foam roller as you spend more time with it than you do any friends or family. There won’t be a day goes by when you’re not watching the TV whilst rubbing yourself up and down that painful foamy friend. You’ll love and hate it in equal measures – much like a family Christmas.
8. You’ll redecorate your walls with training plans …
If you’re a planner like me you won’t be able to relax and wait for the injury to heal like everyone is telling you to. Instead you’ll find yourself churning out updated training plans like your life depends on it and the madness will only end once you’ve effectively redecorated all of the walls in your office/house.
9. You’ll become green with jealousy …
Even during a snow storm or a torrential downpour you’ll be jealous of other runners. When you see them out training, you’ll assume everyone you see is training for the same thing you are, and that you’re going to get left behind. This will lead to more training plans and a block booking of Pilates classes.
10. You’ll blog about every ache and pain …
You’ll begin to see everything as a blog post. Even when you’re laid on the acupuncturist’s table having needles put in your ears, you’ll be thinking about taking a picture to put on your blog. Another sign that you’re now insane.
Girl On the Run 