I thought it was finally time to write about my first half
marathon experience, been meaning to for ages (keep thinking about it) but been
so busy. There’s a short version and a long version.
Short version
Well I did it, I can’t believe I did it, don’t know how I
did it but I did it. I actually ran a
half marathon. It seems quite unreal,
and its left me without an excuse to accomplish anything in life. Because everytime I think ‘I can’t do that’ a
little voice pipes up in my head and says ‘yeah like you can’t run a half
marathon’. Even last night I was feeling
doubtful and fed up and I put my medal over my head and it was like putting on
a ring of power. There are no excuses
left. Sounds a bit over the top, but
even just 4 months ago the thought of running 13,1 miles seemed impossible,
but…
In summary I did it, I enjoyed it, I learned a lot from it.
I am a half marathon runner.
Long version (because I don’t want to forget this
experience).
The weeks leading up to the half were not good. Prior to half marathon I had had a few weeks
of terrible runs, and was super busy.
Looking back I realise I was probably overdoing it a bit, combing
househunting, training and the busiest time of work (and getting home late at
night every night after all this was
meaning my diet was shot to pieces) all this
I think was lead to terrible training runs.
So prior to the race, I hadn’t run for about 10 days. In fact the only during this time the one day
I planned to run and was looking forward to running (I was literally in my gear
on the way to a run) when we had a family crisis (add that to all of the above
3 days before your first half marathon) not good.
This also meant I was very grumpy and not very optimistic
about the run, I knew either the rest was going to do me good, or I would have
a bad run day, and would hate it and feel like a failure (I’m so hard on
myself) it was 50/50 and I had no inkling as to which way it would go.
I actually moved house on the Friday, then on the Saturday I
decided to stick with my original plan of staying at my sister's (as I thought
the familiarity of my sisters would be better the night before a run than a new
house with strangers). When I left for my sister’s Saturday morning from my new
house, I actually walked out the door without my trainers can you believe, well
that was a good start, little did I know it would get worse from there.
On the Saturday it was actually a nice day. A family friend came down to London and she
had arranged for us to go and see Davide Badiel’s ‘My Family, not the
sitcom’. My dad died of Alzheimers a few
years ago, and I had decided to use my half marathon to raise money for
Azheimer’s Association (for which I proudly raise almost £500). So it was quite fitting to go along and see
this show which focused a little on his dad’s Alzheimer’s battle. We also went to
Pizza hut and I stuffed my face full of pizza. In fact I was so full of pizza I
sort I didn’t want dinner (which meant I would have woken up starving the next
day). But about 9pm I force fed myself a bowl of bolognaise. All was calm, I don’t think I felt nervous,
but I kind of just wanted to get it over and done with, I had been building up
to this day for months, now I just wanted it over.
I went to bed and then… at 3am I woke up, and just couldn’t
get back to sleep, I tossed and turned for ages, until eventually I dosed off,
and had a horrendous nightmare, one of those sleep paralysis ones. So when I
was finally able to shake myself awake I was spooked, so had to give up and
turn the light on, I then watched youtube videos quietly until about 5.30 when
I started to dose off again, my alarm was set for 6am, great (so I could eat
and digest before running). So I was
about to run my first half marathon after a horrendous week and 4 hours sleep! Great.
When I got up I managed to eat a bit then at 7ish headed out for my warm up loop, I planned a
20 minute run across Regents Park down to Baker Street where I’d get the tube across.
My warm up was the first time I’d run for a while and
luckily it felt ok, phew. The first thing I noticed though was that I was
wearing my leggings that fall down (I have two pairs of identical leggings, except one is comfortable the other always feels like it’s going to fall down). Great, so I was about to start my first half
marathon on 4 hours sleep and falling down leggings. But there was nothing else
I could do about it now.
I got to the station and planned to head to Green Park, at
this point I was starting to get nervous about the time, it was getting on for
8am. Now I’m not a morning person, and
my brain takes a while to wake up and work, and for some ridiculous reason
(ridiculous because I know central tube routes like the back of hand) I jumped
on a train which was the most long winded route to Green Park ever! But there
was nothing I could do about it, I was on the train and it was done, I was
committed. Because of the time I also
decided at this point to change to the Picadilly line and head from Green Park
to Hyde Park Corner or Knightsbridge, which was closer to the start line, to cut a good few mins off. I also noticed at
this point that there weren’t many other runners on the train. I’ve done a few races and the trains are
always full of runners, this worried me. Then I got off a
greenpark and realised why. Green Park was chaos, thousands of runners heading
in different directions whilst the tube staff shouted grumpy unhelpful
directions. Not good, so I followed the sensible crowds and exited at Green Park
for the long walk to the start, with my eye on the clock, contemplating what
would happen if I missed the start (along with 1000 other late runners) of the
half marathon. Thankfully it’s not such
a long walk and we arrived with (not much) time to spare – although it meant I
missed a wander around the fitness festival
which I would have liked to have seen.
Coming into the park the first thing I noticed were the
queues for the portaloos, and as soon as saw them my bladder decided to wake up
and see them too. It’s so psychological.
But I knew if I queued for the loo I really would miss the start. So I was about to start my first half marathon
on 4 hours sleep and falling down leggings, and in need of the loo, but there
was nothing I could do about that now. I headed for the blue funnel which was
right next to some portaloos and thought I'd try my luck, but after 10 mins of queing, and anxious clock watching, I decided to give up,
and headed to the funnel to be on the safe-side.
In the funnel, I stood as far to the back as I possibly
could, ahead of me I could see the 2.05 pacer, and I knew I was sooo in the
wrong zone, and everyone in my zone looked really serious, except for a couple
of people who were also pushing as far back within the zone as was possible, at
least I wasn’t alone . I’m not sure what I was thinking when I gave an
estimated time. There was an empty roped off gap between us and the next zone, in that
zone I could see the 2.15 pacer at the front, and knew that is where I really wanted to
be (well at the back of that zone). My plan was to wait until they
passed me then keep up with them as far as possible. At this point I knew I was close to the starting beep, so I
decided to get my Nike app poised for take-off, so I set it up, with it to tell
me the time 15 minute intervals, all good, except after a couple of minutes chatting to
some of my ‘I don’t want to be in this zone’ fellow runners I looked at my
phone and the app had logged me out. It’s never done that before, the problem
was there was zero wifi coverage in this crowded park to log back in, I was
screwed (and fuming) my first half marathon would not logged. But oh well, there was nothing I could do
about that now. In some ways it was a
good thing, I would be totally oblivious to times, and therefore I could run
free, I decided to accept it and enjoy the moment.
The starting line/portaloo queue
Then came the start, I was about to start my first half
marathon on 4 hours sleep and falling down leggings, and in need of the loo,
and no Nike app, but there was nothing I could do about that now, the time had
come I was off.
Compared to other races, the start was really smooth, I
certainly didn’t feel like I was waiting around for ages.
I have to say I was
plodding along very happily. At one point this girl shouted ‘Go Celeste’ I
totally forgot I had my name on my shirt and turned to her thinking I knew her
and shouted back ‘Heyyyy how are you?’ she must have thought I was a
nutter.
It felt like one of my regular
training runs, but more scenic, and I was very aware of the thousands upon
thousands of people passing me. It was great for people watching too, I became
really aware of the different ways people run, and the different styles and
also those who were already showing signs of struggle, I also loved seeing all
the many thousands of charities represented.
Every so often I would find myself running alongside people and I’d try to
keep up with them for a while.
It was
quite pleasant watching the miles tick by. At about 3 miles, one of the
stewards was shouting, “Almost there!” which was met by a lot of heckling, made
me chuckle. Just at Trafalgar square I ran past a group of Nike runners
supporters, and was half inclined to go over and have a rant about the stupid
app, but of course didn’t. And every time I ran past portaloos I had
the debate in my head of whether now was the time to stop or could I keep
going. I kept looking behind me too, I knew I was the last of the blue funnel,
behind would have been the orange bibs, as long as they weren’t catching up
with me en-mass I felt like I was pacing ok.
Occasionally when the route doubled back on itself I could see the 2.05
pacer which also made me feel good, knowing I wasn’t far behind them.
The first 5km, I also experienced runners high for the first
time in an eternity, it was a nice feeling, I was really enjoying myself, even
my leggings had settled a bit and I wasn’t pulling them up every two
seconds. It kind of makes sense to me
that I would enjoy this part as I all my training has been based on 5 mile
runs, so 5 miles is just normal.
Heading back towards the park, I was excited about running
down the Mall, I always wanted to and it felt a little like the London marathon
finish (except with 8 miles still to go) but as soon as I got onto the Mall I
got totally distracted by seeing the 2.10 pacer up ahead (I’ve no idea how she
got past me) but all of sudden I felt like if I could keep her in view I have
a great chance at a really good time. However it wasn’t long before I realised
I wouldn’t be able to keep it up and by
the time I reached Queen Victoria, I’d lost her.
It was just after then I experienced my first running problem. And not one I was
expecting. I think I’m a little
asthmatic, on top of that I get the occasional panic attack (brought on by
sometimes by the panic of not being able to breath because I'm a little asthmatic) and it happens a lot with running (although
the panic attacks not so often). It’s
not a huge problem, but something I try to stay calm about. As I headed towards the park, I knew there
would be crowds and I knew my friends would be at points along the way (I felt
a bit bad as one of my friend’s had text me to say she was there at 8.30, it
meant lots of waiting around for her with only a small chance of seeing me) and for some reason the thought of running
through and the thought I seeing people I knew was bringing on a bit of a panic
attack. I tried to stay calm, and
decided that the only way to deal with it was to keep my head down and try to
avoid seeing my friends (which made me feel really really bad because they'd got up so early) but if I started having
a panic attack whilst running, my run was over.
Luckily the panic subsided, and I soon found myself distracted by the
crowds lining the way as I entered the park.
Supporting cast
One of my fave things about this race was the way it was
divided into two the first half outside the park, with the distraction of all
the sights, I was a little apprehensive about the park part as it was 7 miles,
with a few loops, would I get bored?
Just before 6 miles I saw Patti, ringing her pub bells! My
first supporter! After I passed her I
realised that I should have told her to look out for my sister, I also realised
that my text to her to ask her to take a pic of me if she saw me (and to tell
her to look out for my sister) also hadn’t gone through. Oh well.
Between mile 7-8 I was frantically looking for the Alzheimer’s flags and
my supporters (they’d had instructions to hang around those points with the
Alzheimers lot, so I would spot them). I
didn’t see my sister, so I assumed she’d decided to stay in bed and catch me at
the finish line (for which I didn’t blame her, as I still felt bad that my
other friend had been there since 8.30). At this point we were running parallel
to runners further the route along and I saw the 10 mile marker, and wished so
much I could be there. My legs had started to seize up a little, I was
definitely feeling it, but not feeling like I couldn’t keep going. I’d had a Goo thing at 5 miles, and that had helped a little, but was now wishing I had another one to take. Not long after this I
passed my friend with the pub bells, and expressed my ‘am I nearly there ‘concerns.
But kept going. After I passed her I suddenly remembered (again) that I should have
told her to look out for my sister.
The route though the park sort of went all over the place,
I know Hyde Park pretty well but I was feeling quite disorientated, not quite sure where I was. It felt really good to cross the 15km marker,
and not long after that I saw my sister on the side line cheering me on!
Woohoo. She had a latte in her hand so I shouted 'where’s my latte?' A late actually would have been lovely right about then. She ran with
me for a minute or two (she probably could have out run me to the end at this
point). After I passed her I suddenly
remembered that I should have told her to look out for Patti, I also had a
panic because I had asked her to bring my tote bag (rather than me queuing up
for luggage at the end ) and I didn’t remember seeing her with it, plus I realised in my
tote bag was a Goo if I’d been more organised I could have arranged for her to
pass it to me doh (but I was freaking out that she didn’t even have my tote
bag).
Actually I’m pleased to report that she did have my tote
bag, phew Afterwards she told me she had
been waiting with the Alzheimer’s lot for me at mile 7 (and not sleeping in),
but they just hadn’t seen me go by, she had them all ready to shout for me and
everything, when I didn't run passed they probably thought she had Alzheimer's and probably thought she was at the London Marathon in 1987. My sister also commented on how well I looked when she had seen me. She said she’d seen a lot
of people running past, looking worse for wear and flagging and she was a bit concerned about how I would be
coping, but was impressed that I seemed so good and so cheerful (yep even I was
impressed).
After mile 10 it got mentally harder. Partly because I was
convinced the end was closer than it was, I thought the route took up directly
up past Kensington Palace and then turned left towards the finish, but it
actually deviated back through the park.
Mile 11-12 was very silent, no supporters and I think everyone was just
in a ‘I want this to be over zone’ I was struggling mentally, and legs getting
stiffer by the moment. I did walk for a few minutes (only a few) but forced
myself back to it, because I knew once I started wavering it would be over for
me. Just before mile 12 I saw Patti with
her pub bells again. After I passed her I suddenly remembered that I should
have told her to look out for my sister yet again. Too late now. Around this point I also saw
the 12.35 pacer. I knew that I that I had set off
about 10 minutes before her (in the blue funnel) and so I could guestimate my
time, it turned out to be spot on.
Seeing the 12 mile marker was a joy!! Maybe I could do actaully this. And this joy was followed by a
treat. I’d run in Hyde Park a few times,
trying to choose paths that were along the race route, in fact I’d run the bit
from mile 12 before, however I didn’t realise until this moment how downhill it
was, it was amazing, and felt so good.
After this we turned and headed towards Albert (my hero) but this
included a tiny incline which at this point was a little too much to bare, and irritated me that this obstacle was so close to the end, but
after Albert I could see the finish, and out of nowhere I was able to put on a
sprint, I sprinted towards the arch, as I got close I heard my sister cheering
for me, and finally posed for a pic.
Coming into the finish line
And then I did it, I passed through, and a
glance at the time and a quick calculation I knew I’d made it in just under
2.30 (exact time was 2.25). I did it I
had finished my first Half. Not only that but I had enjoyed it. I took great joy in being crowned with that
medal! I very almost cried, but being very English, gulped down the tears.
Then the pain hit. It was immediately afterwards that the
pain set in, my knees where not happy at the battering I'd just put them through, not only that but
seconds after crossing the finish line I seemed to have sprained my ankle. I was struggling to get through to my
supporters on the phone to let them know where to find me, which was frustrating me, how would I find them in the crowds. So limped to the Alzheimer's tent,
as I walked in a table of chocolate greeted me and I whimpishly asked the volunteer if I
could have one, and he was like ‘yeah of course have as many as you like’. I got my pic taken in the Alzheimer's frame, to commemorate the moment (the
picture makes me look a whole lot better
than I was actually feeling). Then I sunk down into a chair, and my tears of
joy turned to tears of ‘I’m all alone and my friends aren’t’ here and probably
don’t know to come here to find me’ (I believe they call it runner’s low). A few seconds later and there was a cheer and
a sprinkle of glitter as my supporters appeared! And the world was right again.
I’d done it, woohoo. I missed out on the festival, my goodie
bag (queues for miles) and the free yoga sess that I had envisioned doing straight after the race, and
opted instead to head (limp) home. En route we stopped at Starbucks (funny
story)and I asked for a hazelnut latte, but the barista mistook the H for a 4
and gave me a 4 shot latte, I just wanted to get home so accepted it (after he
added the hazel nut). I was in quite a daze for the rest of the day, I’m not
sure if it was the lack of sleep, the run, or the caffeine. By the evening I had managed to lose my medal
(found again a few days later), it also took about 3 or 4 days before I could
comfortably walk down stairs. I was very
concerned about having done permanent damage to my knees, but luckily even they
forgave me, and my ankle recovered itself within a day. Sitting in that chair at the Alzheimer’s
stand, I was very concerned about the damage I may have done to myself, so I am
relieved I recovered from that and that my running career didn’t end there.
At first I was disappointed with my time, but now I’m happy
with it, if it was over 2.30 then I would have allowed disappointment, I think
deep down I would have liked to have got under 2.20, but considering how bad my
running was prior to the half I think I should be happy with 2.25, and it gives
me something achievable to beat.
I’m
happy I did it, but I’m also happy I enjoyed it as much as I did. There were
moments I wanted to stop but in the grand scheme of things (in 13.2 miles) they
were fleeting moments that I got over quickly.
My first ever 10km I did I remember hating the last km, wanting to throw
up, the last km of this one I managed to find the strength not only to keep
going but to pace it to the finish line (and not want to throw up at any point).
For that I’m proud. But I’m also so super proud of all that came before those 13.2
miles, the three months of dedication to training (when I could have been
drinking Prosecco on primrose hill instead of running up and down it) when I
could have been in bed rather than running around a park at 6am. That’s what
makes me beyond proud.
And so what’s next, well who knows, the problem is now,
there are no excuses anymore, I can’t say I’m not capable, so who knows maybe a crazy
plan or two to come.
But yay I did it, I ran my first half marathon on 4 hours sleep,
with falling down leggings, and in need of the loo, nothing is impossible to me
now.
I actually did it!
