If you’re friends with me in real life – you know, not from just behind your shiny mac, iPad, laptop, Blackberry – then no doubt you’ve also got fed up of me droning on about “oh no, I couldn’t possibly drink a drop of alcohol, I’m training for a marathon”, “It doesn’t matter if I eat ten whole pizzas, I’m burning soooo many calories during my marathon training”, “don’t you think I’m much better than you cos I’m doing this marathon and you’re just sitting your arse?”.
But rest assured people – it’s now over. And we can all go back to our usual lives without any more marathon chat. Well, once I can walk again and after this blog post is written / read, that is…
So what made me sign my life away to do the Brighton Marathon? Well, it all started last May when I took part in the Great Manchester Run with some of my colleagues. I’ve never been a runner. NEVER. Sure, I dabbled in the likes of hockey and netball at school, took myself off to the gym once in a while at uni to try and tone up the freshers wobble that was an infamous side effect of consuming a strict diet of full fat beer, fried foods and lard. But I was never one to break out much of a sweat (unless on the dance floor throwing shapes to dirty techno beats, but I’m not sure real athletes look at that sort of behaviour favourably).
But through training for the Great Manchester Run I went from managing to run for the 86 bus from Chorlton to Manchester city centre (OK, I’ve never actually ran for the 86… if I miss one, it just wasn’t meant to be. Why risk looking like a dick trying to run for the bus when you’re going to inevitably miss it and there’ll be another one along in six minutes anyway?) to being able to get around a 10k course dressed as a green superhero (or ninja, as some of the crowd thought we were).
The 10k was fun, the crowd great and my fitness had actually improved pretty quickly. Not bad this running malarkey, I thought. So I signed up to a half marathon and then the Brighton marathon.
So how did I get on? Here’s a mile by mile account (you lucky things):
Mile 1: Fuck, I’m already sweating and out of breath. Why did I sign up for this? WHY? I can’t run 26 miles. I’ve only ever done 18 miles. I. Am. An. Idiot.
Mile 2: Wow there’s a lot of people running this. They all look like proper athletes too. Except for that person dressed up as a rock. Or is it a tortoise? (It turned out to be a rhino).
Mile 3: Come. On. Surely I’ve done at least a mile by now?? I’ve not even seen ONE mile marker yet. “Lady with the posh GPS watch, where are we? Oh we’ve done three miles? That’s a relief”.
Mile 4: It’s not a relief, there’s still more than 20-odd miles of where that came from.
Mile 5: Yay there’s my mum, dad and Noel. Whoo – look at me, look at me!! Here! Yeh, here I am! I’m running – whooooo!!!!
Mile 6: Wow, there’s a lot of hills coming up. Where does that hill in the distance even end? I don’t think it does. It probably just falls off the side of the earth.
Miles 7 – 12: Really. Bloody. Hilly. I thought this was a “flat and fast course”. And mister “I’m a seasoned runner”, this bit isn’t “technically flat but with a bit of a gradient”, it’s a bloody mountain. Shut up.
Mile 13: Oooo Noel and my parents are going to be at the half way mark with the Parkinson’s UK supporters. Whoooo!! Where are they? Where? Helloooo???? Oh god, maybe I’ve missed them. Maybe I’m too slow and they’ve gone somewhere else. Probably the pub. Oh look there’s my mum and dad!! HIYA!!!! Where’s Noel?? Oh there he is. Why is he dressed as an Arab?? What’s he doing with my leopard print scarf wrapped around his head and neck? Jeez I’m delirious.
Mile 14: It’s really hot. I’m thirsty. And hungry. I’d murder a burger.
Mile 15: Wonder where my mate Woollven is? He said he’d be at mile 15. THERE HE IS!!! HIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Woollven!! WHOOOOO!!!!
Mile 16 – 17: Well look at all these spectators with their BBQs and booze drinking. Alright for some. Another jelly baby? Why not.
Mile 18: La la la, these caffeine blocks have definitely kicked in. maybe I’ll just eat shit loads of these before a night out instead of drinking vodka red bull? Ooo look there’s the parents again. HI! Bit hot innit??
Mile 19: This is WELL EASY. I’m gonna ace this.
Mile 20: This is not easy.
Mile 21: Ow.
Mile 22: Whimper.
Mile 23: Walk / limp.
Mile 24: COME ON NOT LONG TO GO.
Mile 25: Yaaaaay helloooooooo Noel and Woollven hanging outside of the hotel window. I can see you!!!! LOOK I’ve nearly finished!!!!!!!!
Mile 26: Run, run, run.
Mile 26.2: Slightly teary. Huge smile. Job done.
So there you go – that’s five hours and two minutes of my life summed up in 26.2 miles. My knees are buggered, my feet are blistered and I’m walking around like a knock kneed duck. Fab weekend though. And thanks to everyone who has sponsored me to raise money for Parkinson’s UK. If you still haven’t coughed up but you have a tickle in your throat – let it all out on my Just Giving page here.
OK, that’s me done with the marathon chat. Normal life can now commence. Until next time…(?)
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