London Marathon: The Big Jog

On April 29, 2015April 29, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat, Race Reports9 Comments

I was disappointed not to run a London Good For Age qualifier last year but I was over the moon to be successful in in the ballot, it’s a rare occurance! Last Spring, the Rome Marathon didn’t quite go my way so I made a last minute decision to enter Manchester 2 weeks later. I ran better in Manchester, but it was tough knocking out that kind of distance again so soon and I believed myself when I swore I’d never attempt such a thing again.

Not expecting a place in London I had already entered the Brighton Marathon, but October rolled around and I came home to the coveted ‘You’re In’ magazine on my doormat…pain and consequence long forgotten, I wanted to do both. Obviously.

The London Marathon is hands down the best day of the year and if I’m not running, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than cheering on the sidelines. I first ran London in 2011, it was my first ever marathon and is completely responsible for giving me the bug. In 2013 I qualified for a GFA entry, I went off way too fast and suffered in the later miles, it was a tough run.

This year I really wanted to enjoy London for the spectacular 26.2 mile street party it is and I didn’t want my over ambitious dreams to ruin my enjoyment. The only way I could guarantee that was to make Brighton my A race because I really can’t be trusted!

I’ve been in limbo the last 2 weeks, it’s odd trying to strike a balance between recovery and taper and in a shockingly sensible approach I simply listened to my body. There was a bit of running, a lot of rest, a lot of early nights and a lot of hand sanitizer, I was really fun to be around.

On Sunday I woke up to the best good luck message ever! It immediately put me in a good mood despite the 5.45am alarm, how could it not be a good day? I was sooooo excited!

My new little niece Chloe. She’s going to be a runner 🙂

The weather was pretty damn perfect. It’s been getting warmer over the last few weeks and London Marathon day nearly always ends up just a bit too hot. But it was grey and drizzly on Sunday morning, it looked ideal! Zoe, my housemate, was running her first marathon this year so she was an excitable bundle of nerves, we made our way to the start at Blackheath in a sensible, calm manner…

It was actually pretty cold when we got there but there wasn’t too much waiting around after a couple of trips to the toilet and dropping off our bags. I met up with Laura who was in the same start pen as me and then it was time to line up. Whhhaaaaa, good luck!!

Me and Zoe before her first marathon

I usually know exactly what I’m going to do on marathon day – what my goal is, what my back-up goal is, what pace I’m going to start at, what I’m going to do if, if, if… What was different about today was that I didn’t have a game plan. I really didn’t. Today I was going to turn up at the start line and see what my legs would let me do.

Could I pull off another 4 hour marathon 2 weeks after Brighton? Maybe 4:15? 4:30? A bit slower? In my heart I knew I’d be disappointed at anything over 4:15 but I needed to be realistic that it was a very real possibility, especially if I was going to achieve my ultimate goal of enjoying every second. I wasn’t entirely sure how I would deal with a disappointment though.

Suddenly, the gun went off and we were moving forwards! It only took about 2 minutes to get across the line and there we were, running the greatest marathon in the whole world!!

The first few miles are always quite congested but not so much that you can’t run, if anything, being held back slightly is a good thing. I just went with flow and enjoyed the atmosphere, we’d only got up the road before someone was shouting, ‘3 cheers for Paula, hip hip…hooray!’

I didn’t want to go off as fast as I did in Brighton, I wouldn’t be able to hold it and I knew I’d be in for a tough ride later, but, although today was about having fun, I still wanted to do justice to all the winter miles. As Paula said:

You can’t come to the London Marathon and not give it an honest effort

With the image of little Chloe in her ‘Go Auntie Katherine’ outfit firmly in my head, all I knew was that I needed to be able walk away today knowing I did the best I possibly could. I didn’t want to feel like I let myself down and I didn’t want to be embarrassed by my effort.

I started off comfortably, I was running under 9mm but wasn’t pushing it. After a few miles I could tell my legs weren’t fresh, but I was still hitting a fairly good pace and I was happy. I remembered to high-5 a few kids and smiled at everyone who cheered me by name. Fun, remember, FUN!

By mile 10 I knew I was running slower but it felt much slower than the 9mm pace my Garmin was telling me so I was quite pleased. 9.04, 9.02, 9.04, they kept ticking by consistently, hey, I was doing OK and I was enjoying it!

The crowd support is pretty good in the first half, but it really thickens when you get to Tower Bridge between 12 and 13, you really know you’re in London when you turn the corner and see that Bridge! Running across the river is freggin awesome, the atmosphere is buzzing and I remembered to look up and take it all in, I almost forgot we were nearly half way already. My legs hadn’t forgotten though, they were starting to ache earlier than I would have liked…I ignored them.

I knew the Chasers would be somewhere around 15 miles and I couldn’t wait to see them, there’s nothing like a Chaser Cheer to give you a boost and I really needed a boost. Luckily there’s so many of them you can’t miss them and they let out a huge roar as I trotted past.

Chaser Support Crew…complete with Ingrid the inflatable Chaser (I find it best not to ask…)

Before I knew it I was at mile 16 and I re-evaluated how I felt, it was getting harder but I was still OK, it was the the flippin London Marathon! I was a bit slower by 18 miles but I told myself I absolutely needed to get to 20 before I could even consider a walk…I kept going.

True to my word, my legs made it to 20 miles and I rewarded them with a timed 2 minute walk, trying not to make eye contact with the crowd. They wanted me to run, they didn’t know about the deal I made with my legs, they didn’t understand, ohhh the shame!

I saw the Chasers again around mile 21 and they had split into smaller groups so there were more cheers (except Gary, Gary ignored me to talk about bananas with a stranger, even Ingrid gave me more attention…)

It’s all mind games after 20 miles. I don’t like 20 miles, it means there’s still 10 whole kilometers to go, I like 21 miles because there’s only 5 miles left…make sense? Of course not! But, by the time I’ve worked out in my head how exactly I feel about having 5 miles left I’m at 22, and, today, that meant another teeny little walk. Don’t judge me.

The walk didn’t last long, the crowds just wouldn’t have it, ‘you can do it Katherine, you’re nearly there!’, they didn’t come out to stand on the streets all day to watch me walk. People at home were tracking me, they’ll see my splits. Chloe’s wearing a special outfit, don’t let her down. There’s a sodding TV camera in my face, OK, MOVE.

The next few miles were a bit of a blur but I didn’t stop running, I couldn’t, not only was it too hard to get going again, at this point absolutely anyone I knew could be on the sidelines and I didn’t want to be seen walking, it’s the friggin London Marathon! The crowds are totally wild by this point, they cheer and shout and yell ‘go on Katherine, you’re looking awesome!’ Errrm, I’m really not am I, I’ve probably never looked less awesome, but thanks!

It was really starting to hurt along the Embankment but my legs were ticking over and I was still enjoying the atmosphere, I just wasn’t sure why the miles were getting longer, why would they do that?! Eventually I turned the corner to face the home stretch along The Mall, it was the best sight ever!

The flags were flying high, the crowds were roaring and I could actually see the finish line. Just. Keep. Running. I finally crossed the line in 4:05:52 and was totally overcome with emotion, I don’t know how I got through the last few miles, I just wanted to sit down.

Collecting my medal and shuffling along I quietly reflected on what I had achieved. It was slower than Brighton but it was well within ‘you-can’t-be-disappointed-with…’ time. So why was I a little sad? I really didn’t know. It wasn’t a bad time, especially after Brighton, but I have so many fast friends it’s hard not to think you’re a little bit rubbish.

I’d really enjoyed the run, enjoyed the atmosphere and loved the Chaser support, it had been a brilliant day. Plus, I genuinely don’t think I could have put more effort in, I couldn’t have tried any harder today, I had to be pleased with that.

I slowly made my way to the finisher area to wait for Zoe and hoped she would come in under her target time. When I saw her she looked in much better shape than I did at the finish and was really pleased with her time. I reckon she’s hooked!

Then it was a quick turnaround and off to the pub for Chasers marathon celebrations with cider and some sensible sambuka. Another weekend, another marathon and another London medal, that’s pretty awesome right?!

Whatever happens, the London Marathon is always a special day. It won’t be the last time I run it, not a chance.

7 Reasons why I LOVE the London Marathon

On April 21, 2015April 21, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat13 Comments

This weekend London hosts its 35th Marathon and some 36,000 people will line up for one of the most exhilarating experiences of their life. This is why I love the London Marathon.

1. The atmosphere is electric

I’ve run a lot of big races over the years, including several marathons in various big cities across Europe, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to the atmosphere of the London Marathon.

Energetic, upbeat, loud, happy, powerful, and ever encouraging, they’re not far wrong when they say the crowd will carry you the last few miles. They’ll pick you up when you’re down, go wild when you’re running strong and they’ll push you harder than you ever thought possible, it’s a 26.2 mile support crew. Soak up every second.

2. It’s the sightseeing tour of dreams

Starting in Greewich and Blackheath, the London Marathon takes you past Cutty Sark, Canary Wharf, the Tower of London, the Shard, St Paul’s Cathedral, the London Eye, Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and, of course, the magnificent finish along the Mall by Buckingham Palace. Quite frankly, London is one of the best cities in the entire world and I can promise you there is no better way to see it.

For me, running across the iconic Tower Bridge never fails to send shivers down my spine and it also means you’re nearly halfway!

3. We’re nice to each other (and not just because we’ve had one too many and it’s the last tube home…)

City life is pretty cold and unfriendly. You rarely get kindness from strangers and you certainly don’t get the warm smile and wave you get from a fellow runner in the country.

On Marathon day something changes. Londoners unite and flood the streets in their thousands to cheer and shout and wave banners in the air. Hell, they even come out of their houses to stand on the street in their PJ’s and bunny slippers to offer you a selection of fruit and sweets!

It’s one of the few days of the year when everyone rallies together to celebrate the achievements of others and it makes me proud to be a Londoner.

4. It’s the best street party you’ll ever go to

I don’t know how many spectators the London Marathon attracts but it’s a LOT. Whether people are out to marvel at the elites as they fly past, offer support and sweaty hugs to loved ones, or just admire the sheer grit and determination of the masses, they come out rain or shine to holla at you and enjoy the entertainment, often with a pint in hand.

There were over 35 live music sets adorning the route last year, numerous charity cheer points that go nuts when one of their team runs by and 80 odd pubs which helpfully open early so spectators can enjoy a pint with breakfast, there’s never a dull moment.

Sure, Notting Hill Carnival has people shaking their jelly in bejewelled bikinis and feather headdresses but we have 7ft dinosaurs, Sponge Bob Squarepants, men in mankinis, enough superheros to save the world, and people running 26.2 miles with an actual friggin’ FRIDGE on their back.

Notting Hill ain’t got shit on the London Marathon

5. You run in the same race as some of the finest athletes in the world

As a World Marathon Major, London attracts some huge names to the start line, including current WR holder Kimetto who’s racing this year. And you get to run right there with them!

OK, so you’re unlikely to be keeping up with any of them, but everyone runs the same course at the same time with the same roaring crowd. It’s an honour.

6. You’ll be a hero

If you’ve ever come to watch the marathon, or even seen it on TV, you’ll know what I mean. Running the London Marathon is on the bucket list for many people but it takes true strength of character to be able to tick it off. Each year thousands are inspired by the relentless determination of those who make it to the finish line but most will never find the dedication needed to prepare for such a gruelling task.

Cold dark nights, rainy lonely mornings, endless tiring miles, it’s nothing but hard work and you just can’t cheat your way through. If you run any marathon you will be a hero to someone.

7. It’s HOME

I don’t know what it’s like to run across the finish line to win Olympic Gold at the Queen Elizabeth Park, or bang in the injury time winner at Wembley, but I do know what it’s like to do the thing you love the most, in one of the best events in the world, that’s televised across the globe, with all your friends and family around you, in the place you call home. And when that thing is the London Marathon, well, quite frankly, you’re buzzing off your face as soon as the alarm goes off.

The London Marathon? Yeah, it’s pretty special.

If you’re lucky enough to be taking part on Sunday, don’t forget to take a step back, look around, take it all in and appreciate how amazing it is because it will be over all too quickly. GOOD LUCK!

2011 – my first ever marathon, finished in 4.13

Two years later – finishing in 3.50

Back in the Game: Brighton Marathon

On April 14, 2015April 14, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat, Race Reports7 Comments

I’ve never really been interested in running the Brighton Marathon. I always thought London was the only marathon worth running in the UK. But, last April I found myself signing up for the 2015 race after failing to run a London GFA and realising my ballot chances were incredibly slim. I knew my jealousy would know no bounds if I was the only one not training for a spring marathon.

Yesterday I realised how foolish and short sighted I had been because the Brighton Marathon is a well organised, high profile, worthy event in a vibrant seaside city with incredible crowd support. It’s an all round bloody brilliant race and I’m sorry I ever thought otherwise!

On the drive down to Brighton on Saturday the rain came down thick and fast and I was a bit concerned how the weather would pan out the next day. Heavy rain and inevitable wind on the coast would be challenging to say the least! It seemed to clear by the time I arrived and I headed to the Brighton Centre to pick up my number.

The expo wasn’t too busy, it was quick and painless so I found myself doing the usual fossicking through the various stands. I came away with a bright pair of coral shorts, 3 pairs of socks, 5 protein bars and 3 bags of Honey Stingers. What are Honey Stingers? Well, they look like little jellies…

‘Are these like Shot Bloks?’, ‘Yes, but better’, ‘Oh, OK, I’ll have 3 packs then please’

I then made a swift exit before I bought anything else…

My Mum and Dad were coming to support and my Aunt and Uncle, who live in a nearby village, had kindly agreed to let us stay for a couple of nights. I had my usual plain pasta for dinner and got an early night (despite my uncle trying to convince me to get on the wine!)

The alarm went of at a painful 5.40am but I had already been awake a while, it was marathon day! Again!!! I forced down my porridge (and chia seed, new addition to mara day brekkie) and banana and hurried out the door. Because I’m so clever I didn’t read any of the emails I was sent in the lead up to the run (well, none of the boring bits anyway) so by the time it came to planning the journey to the start I realised that you were supposed to book parking 2 weeks ago. And I hadn’t. Luckily my cousin lives not far from Madeira Drive and offered me a parking space for her awesomely located house. Perfect, thanks Carol!

It was a short walk to Preston Park where the race started and the sun was starting to feel warm in a nearly cloudless sky…I guess I didn’t need to worry about driving rain!

Marathon runners were milling around and there was the usual long queue for the toilets, but there was plenty of time to chow down some Honey Stingers and drop my bag off. I hadn’t seen anyone I knew so was delighted to bump into my friend Jasmine who was doing a wonderful thing and pacing her (super) mum round all 26.2 miles, a friendly face was just what was needed.

I was in the red start which seemed to be the first wave (the sub 3.15 runners were starting somewhere else) so I was over the start line in a couple of minutes. I was nervous. I knew I wasn’t going to get a PB, and I was fine with that, but I desperately hoped I would be able to finish in a strong time and shake off the Amsterdam demons. I didn’t know what was going to happen, what if I fell apart at mile 9 again?

The race was started by Jo Pavey and there was a fabulous atmosphere. I made a really conscious effort NOT to start too fast so was pretty pleased not to be running my 10k pace which I often seem to do in all the excitement. I tend to panic at the start and worry that the crowd will hold me back, but of course they don’t, I just go tearing off like a lunatic wasting a lot of energy stressing and weaving in and out.

Not today. Today I felt like a marathon grown up, totally in control and calm.

The pace felt comfortable. It felt easy and quite slow so I was surprised that I was averaging under 8.30 which was faster than PB pace. I tried to slow down as I knew there were a few hills on the way and wanted to hold the pace. The hills are in the first half as it takes you round Preston Park, past the Pavilion, and away from the sea for a couple of miles before running past Kemp Town and the Marina. There’s an almost continuous incline between mile 5.5 and 9 but there is a welcome decline for about half a mile or so. A turnaround at mile 9 brings the course back to the seafront along a fast stretch.

The crowds were truly awesome. I made a last minute decision to get my name printed on my Chaser top at the expo and was very glad I did because I’ve never had so many people cheering my name! I wasn’t expecting such strong crowd support so it was a real lift. I saw Mum and Dad at miles 3, 5 and 13 and I definitely heard some Chaser support along the route as well.

The water stations were frequent and well marshalled, the organisers made the decision to use cups this year which I know some people weren’t keen on but I didn’t mind. I think this change meant they could increase the frequency of the stations (which were almost every mile), I appreciated this on such a warm day.

At mile 16 the sun was getting to me and by mile 18 I had noticeably slowed…it was getting tough. By mile 20 I was adamant I was pulling out of London later this month, I didn’t want to do it again. Mile 20 to 23 were pretty dead miles as we ran towards Shoreham and past the power station, there weren’t many crowds around, just us runners focusing on the road. Why was I doing this?

The last 3 miles were thick with screaming crowds. They lined either side of us as we trudged along the sea front to the finish line and it was the only thing holding me together as I desperately tried to keep jogging. I saw Alex with the Chaser flag at mile 24 which gave me a boost and Mum and Dad saw me again at around 25 but I didn’t see them. I tried to smile at everyone cheering me but it was getting harder…and harder.

Finally, with the finish line in sight, I tried to calculate if I could finish in under 4 hours. It would be close. As I approached the mile 26 marker I picked up the pace, my god it hurt, why was it 100 degrees? The clock was ticking and I wasn’t going to make it, I couldn’t run any faster.

I crossed the line in a happy 4:00:12, certainly not a PB but definitely a time I could be proud of. I’d worked hard to get back here and it was a huge improvement on my performance 6 months ago, I was pleased.

Shuffling along, I picked up my medal and goody bag and headed to the Beach Village to meet my parents. It hurt. Everything hurt. I really wanted to sit down, to lie down, maybe to cry. That means I worked hard right??

Mum and Dad dragged me through the crowds and we made it to the pub with my cousin for a cold cider and a little sit down. Marathon number 8 was done! I didn’t want to do another one. I really didn’t.

But in the car on the way back to my aunt and uncles house I thought it might be silly not to do London…I could just jog round and enjoy the experience, I didn’t have to race did I? Yes, maybe I would do London if I recovered well.

That evening my Auntie Mareline cooked up a a delicious roast chicken with all the trimmings and Uncle Ken made sure my glass was always topped up with some kind of booze. Perfect recovery 🙂

It was an all round brilliant weekend seeing family, jogging round Brighton and collecting some more race bling.

Brighton Marathon. 4 hours dead. What did I learn? I’m baaacccccckkkk!

The Brighton Marathon 2106 is open for entries. I kinda want to sign up. SOMEBODY STOP ME. Please. Please?

Running from the Heart

On March 20, 2015March 20, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat3 Comments

Standing on the start line, everything fades away

Excitement has been building, just waiting for this day

Now you stand on trial, there’s nothing more to do

You did your best to get here, you know that much is true

Lost in your own thoughts, there’s one more challenge ahead

But this will be a tough one, you slowly fill with dread

You slaved for hours and hours, the road was certainly long

But have you done enough? The doubts, they haven’t gone

It’s been a tough few months, nothing has been easy

But now the time has come, the gun sounds, you feel queasy

There’s no time left to worry, please don’t fall apart

The strength you feel inside you, it comes straight from the heart

26.2 to conquer, the prospect seems so daunting

‘You can’t do this, can you?’ the voice inside is taunting

One foot in front of the other, you remember how it’s done

A little kid high-5’s you, oh yeah, it should be fun!

Soaking up the atmosphere, a smile creeps over your face

The crowds roar all around you, you’re in a happy place!

The cheers are getting louder, the miles are rolling by

It lifts you higher and higher, you feel like you could fly

It’s starting to get tough now, you’re not feeling quite as strong

Everything’s turning hazy, where did it all go wrong?

It was always going to test you, you knew that from the start

The force that drives you forward, it comes straight from the heart

The crowds are going crazy, they scream as you run past

Your legs are feeling heavy, how much longer can they last?

The miles are getting slower, but the end is oh-so near

With the finish line in sight, you step it up a gear

Emotions they engulf you, from sheer relief to joy

You can’t believe you’ve done it! Those doubts have been destroyed

Riding high and giddy, you feel nothing but elation

Huge medal round your neck, it’s time for celebration!

What a day of triumph, what a day of awe

You feel a little tired, your body aches and more

But pain will fade in time, from every single part

Pride, it lasts forever, because you ran straight from the heart

By Katherine French

10 Things I wish I knew before I ran my first Marathon…

On January 13, 2015March 11, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn General, Marathon Chat20 Comments

1. It will hurt

Obvious? Maybe. But what I didn’t know was how much it was going to hurt long before race day.

Running more miles than you ever have before hurts. Speed sessions hurt, long runs hurt, short runs hurt, even rest days hurt…when you go to bed, when you wake up, when your alarm goes off at 7am at the weekend. It all hurts.

But trumping them all is when your friends stay in the pub for a late one on the jagerbombs, and you trundle off home with your tail between your legs because you need to knock out 9 miles in the morning. Nothing hurts quite like that.

It’s gonna hurt. Get used to it.

2. You will have bad days

There will probably be quite a few, marathon training is never plain sailing. When I was training for Paris I attempted a 15 mile run after work on a Friday night. I was under prepared, mentally and physically, I was in a rush and I underestimated the distance. I couldn’t do it.

That night I ran 12 miles. I came home in tears wailing ‘I had to cut my run short by 3 MILES and I’ve only run 12, whhaaaaa’. I thought it was the end of the world, my housemate thought I was mental. I probably was…I probably am…

If you have a bad day, or even a bad week, move on, don’t worry about it and definitely don’t give up.

3. You may never have a good hair day ever again

I’m afraid this one is serious. Morning runs will leave little time for a perfect blow dry and, by the time you’ve finished your run of an evening, you’re likely to be more concerned with filling the void in your tummy than sorting your hair out.

Unless you have a personal stylist on tap it’s gonna be a rough few months for your locks. Sorry

4. You will become really boring to your non-running friends

I mean, really boring. There you are, living, breathing, even dreaming about running and it’s all you can do to stop talking about all the miles you’ve run, the ache in your calf, the new gel flavour you’ve discovered, your new Sweaty Betty top…but the harsh truth is, the only people that will be vaguely interested are other runners.

Whilst your friends and family will be endlessly supportive…they really don’t care. They don’t care that you knocked 53 seconds off your Parkrun PB or that you ran your longest run ever, or that your toenail just fell off…

WHAT! You went for another run? Really?! Guess what…

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5. You need to have a little faith in you

There will be many times over the 16 odd weeks you’re training when you will think you just can’t do it. I still think that all the time! My friend Mike is always telling me I need to trust my training and he’s right, you need to trust all the hard work you’ve put in during the build up, it will pay off and it will see you through.

When I was struggling in the run up to Amsterdam Keith told me look back and write down my top 5 runs. What was good about them? Remember the positives (all negatives are banned…)

Most importantly, you need to have a little faith in yourself

6. You’ll talk about poo more than is socially acceptable

When you start running long distances you get to know your body very well and you’ll soon have a mental map of all the accessible toilets within a 20 mile radius. Tennis courts, pubs, coffee shops, churches, bushes-where-dogs-can’t-find-you, you’ll know them all.

Whilst it’s fine to talk stomach cramps and Imodium with other runners, your friends won’t understand and your work colleagues just won’t get it, so when you bust out the poo strategy chat on a Tuesday afternoon after a conference call…well…don’t.

To be clear: Poo talk is fine with other runners, but at work? NO

7. Respect the rest day

Would you disrespect the long run? No. So don’t disrespect the rest day! Rest days are when the magic happens, it’s when the body adapts and improves and gets stronger. Don’t try and make up for missed sessions by compromising rest days, just let it go.

Your days off are hard earned, put your feet up, put the kettle on and chill out. Enjoy it!

8. It’s Emotional

Nothing can quite prepare you for the immense euphoria, relief and triumphant joy you feel when you cross the marathon finish line. Weeks and weeks of blood, sweat, and tears all comes down to this very this moment and you’ve done it! Add to that the sheer exhaustion, more pain and raging thirst and you may very well just cry. But that’s OK…just don’t ruin your brand new shiny medal!

9. You’ll get the blues

What goes up must come down and after the high of finishing your first marathon there’s a fair ol way to come back down. When the celebrations are over and you’ve caught up on life it’s normal to feel like there’s a bit of a hole in your life. You spent so much time, energy and focus preparing for one day it feels a bit like when Christmas is over when you’re a kid.

I’m afraid the post-marathon blues are very real

There’s only one way I’ve found of picking myself back up again, and that leads us on nicely to…

10. It’s an addiction

Sure, you might not believe me now and you sure as hell won’t believe me just after you’ve crossed that finish line, but give it a week…maybe less…and you’ll be carefully dusting off your trainers secretly plotting when your next marathon will be. All of a sudden it’s not so secret and you’re lining up marathons like you used to line up sambuka on a Friday night.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Before you know it people will be all like…

And it is a problem. It’s a really big frigging problem…so good luck with that 🙂

Amsterdam Marathon. The one that broke me

On October 25, 2014March 11, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat, Race Reports3 Comments

“Cause sometimes you just feel tired. You feel weak. And when you feel weak you feel like you wanna just give up. But you gotta search within you. You gotta find that inner strength and just pull that s**t out of you, and get that motivation to NOT give up, and NOT be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse”

Eminem

The Marathon is a relentless, unforgiving, gruelling event. The second you show just a moment of weakness it will turn on you, digging its painful claws deep into your soul draining you of everything you have, punishing you, willing you to fail, laughing at you.

It hurts. Then everything gets a bit fuzzy.

The Amsterdam Marathon broke me. It broke me early and it broke me hard. I genuinely started to wonder how I was going to make it to the finish line in one piece and I’ve honestly never felt like that before.

When I arrived in Amsterdam the concept of running 26.2 miles still didn’t feel very real. Training had been anything but perfect, but that’s nothing new, getting to the start line of a marathon injury free having nailed every training run would put you in a very small minority.

I had started well, ticking off the miles and sticking to my plan, but my lazy bum triggered an injury that I struggled to come back from. On the plus side, the injury has gone and didn’t flare up on the day, but the consequence of 4 solid weeks of bum exercises meant that the muscles I’m using when I run have changed, and 4 weeks is not long enough to get them used to the kinds of distances I was running.

My physio was brilliant, I did everything she told me and she spent hours painfully ramming her elbows into my leg so I could run without pain, but I was running very slowly. I just couldn’t do any of my speed sessions, my legs seemed to be tiring much quicker than usual and on my last 20 mile run I stopped several times (in the pouring rain…)

Alex and I feeling hopeful at the start (he totally nailed it and got a new PB)

My Mum & Dad had come over to support me so we all went to the Expo on Saturday morning to register followed by some lunch. I then went back to the hotel for an obligatory day-before-the-marathon-afternoon-nap before going out for a huge bowl of pasta and then back to bed for an early night.

The next morning I went through my usual ritual of force feeding myself porridge and a banana (not easy at 6.30am) and drank tea, tea and more tea (never again will I let caffeine withdrawal get me!) and we went to the station to meet my friend Alex.

The start was at the 1928 Olympic Stadium on the other side of town, which made for a great atmosphere, and Mum & Dad went off to find a seat in the stands. Alex and I were in the same start pen which I was grateful for as I think I would have mentally crumbled on my own.

We chatted through our pre-race nerves, discussing toilet strategy (standard) and wondering if the dudes dressed head to toe in a weird silver outfit (we thought they were penises, Mum thought they were silver bullets…) would beat us (they beat me, Alex took them down) and then the elites were away and it was time to run!

The start was great, I wasn’t sure how I felt about having to run through the finish line to get to the start line, but it was fun to run round the 86 year old track for about 200m before getting onto the road.

The route was pretty, it took us through and around the City, including the heart of the Rijksmuseum (the famous passage which connects Amsterdam city centre with the south of Amsterdam), and along the Amstel River. I think this was my favourite part as it felt very calming running past stately mansions and windmills, quintessentially Dutch! As we neared the finish we ran through a very green Vondelpark taking in the trees and ponds, before heading back to the stadium for the big track finish!

Looking pretty cheery at about 4 miles

At 7.5 miles I heard someone come up behind me shouting ‘Go Chasers!!’ before realising it was fellow running buddy Ryan. We had a quick chat, and, even at that point, I admitted I was starting to struggle.

I wasn’t feeling like myself, running felt like such an effort, it was laboured and difficult and tiring. I think it was around mile 9 when I started to fall apart – I don’t know why, I just wanted to stop running. So I did…and walked. When the wheels are falling off at mile 9 you know you’re in for a very tough run.

Unfortunately it all went downhill from there, I tried to enjoy the scenery and take in the atmosphere but I was totally overcome by the need to take regular walking breaks which I normally wouldn’t tolerate. I felt like such a failure, I was in the Amsterdam Marathon, my parents had come to support me and I couldn’t even run!

Giving up was never an option for me. The task ahead was daunting, there were still a lot of miles left to cover, I knew people were tracking me online and I knew I was going to finish in a time that would crush me. But giving up was not an option.

Of course that would have been the easiest thing to do, pulling out would have been the easiest thing in the world. But it would also have been weak. To give up on something because it’s tough, because you’re scared of failure, is weak. I wasn’t ill, I wasn’t injured and I wasn’t weak, I was going to get to the finish line somehow.

My hardest earned medal. Ever.

I started a run/walk strategy based on distance and I think sticking to this was the only thing that got me through the last 6 miles. My watch was ticking away with the time going up and up, my mile splits getting slower and slower and every half a mile feeling like the most difficult thing ever. I had no idea how long it would take me to finish but I did know it would be my slowest marathon by a long way.

The support was the best spectator support I’ve experienced outside the UK and I fed off it. Twice someone from the crowd took my hand when I was walking and jogged with me for a few metres, I love those 2 people. People lined the streets in the last several miles and a lot of people cheered me by name, there was even a ‘free energy’ station where a group of people were having a little street party with a tannoy lifting everyone’s spirits.

Other runners were also very supportive, this really helped as everyone seemed to be struggling so we cheered each other on. An old boy from Sleaford Striders was a big inspiration for me, he was running with a limp and a bit of a hunch but he was still running!

Eventually I made it through the park and could see the stadium ahead of me. I was determined to run the last bit and enjoy the track finish – this is were the Olympics were held 86 years ago! The seats were filled with people cheering us round and I could see the finish! I tried to spot Mum & Dad in the crowd but there were just too many people to pick them out.

I crossed the finish line, got my medal and just wanted to collapse, I was exhausted!

Marathons demand nothing but 101%. 26.2 miles is quite a long way and it’s not easy whatever time you finish in. Somewhere along the way I seem to have become desensitised to the distance and the challenges it brings. 26.2 miles is actually a bloody long way!

I’m aware I can be quite hard on myself, people tell me that all the time, I expect a lot and it’s disappointing when I don’t meet my own expectations. Yes, I had a bad race, but one bad race does not make you a bad runner, you can’t run strong and get a PB every time. Anything can happen in running and these things can and do happen, it’s how you deal with it that can make you stronger.

So I finished the Amsterdam Marathon in 4 hours 50 minutes. All that really matters is that I finished and had a great weekend in a great city. As my boss said when I went back to work and quietly admitted my time ‘Who cares? You did it and you were in Amsterdam, well done!’

It wasn’t lucky number 7. Could it be lucky number 8?

Why I Ran 2 Marathons in 2 Weeks

On April 10, 2014March 11, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat, Race Reports1 Comment

People say I’m impulsive. They say that I rush into things.

Two days after I returned home from the Rome Marathon I entered the Manchester Marathon…and I would be running it a week later, so they may very well be right!

I didn’t peak in Rome, I knew that much for sure, and I felt like I had wasted months of training – I was looking for redemption and I still wanted a sub 3.45 to qualify for London GFA. Physically I felt OK, sure I felt like I had been on a long run but I definitely didn’t feel like I had after previous marathons and, given my pace was a fair bit slower than my training runs, I guess this wasn’t surprising. Most importantly I didn’t have any injury niggles, if I did I wouldn’t have even considered it as I knew it was a risk to run a marathon so soon anyway.

I was aware the Manchester Marathon was 2 weeks after Rome and I was pleasantly surprised/scared they were still taking entries so late. Claiming to be the flattest marathon in the UK (I’m not entirely sure about that but we’ll come to that later!) I couldn’t help but sign up, surely it was an opportunity that I just couldn’t miss?!

Was I mad?

I didn’t keep it a secret but I didn’t tell lot of people, mostly because I didn’t want to hear that it was a bad idea and I shouldn’t do it! I took advice from some more experienced runners in the Chasers and was happy that they didn’t tell me it was a stupid idea – instead they told me to focus on rest and recovery. So I did.

A couple of Chasers were also running Manchester and they invited me to post race lunch. I was pleased to have some friends to celebrate with at the finish, a lonely marathon runner is a sad marathon runner after all.

I was aware that achieving the ultimate goal would be somewhat unlikely after Rome but I figured I had nothing to lose and running 2 marathons in 2 weeks would be a new achievement anyway. Win win?!

So Saturday came around and, questioning my sanity again, I headed to Manchester with just a backpack and bag full of food (travelling light is a challenge it itself for me, what do you mean I can’t take 4 pairs of shoes?!). I made my way to Old Trafford to pick up my number from the race village which was in the car park. It was most definitely the smallest race village/expo I’ve ever seen…

However, there was no queuing, the staff were friendly and it did the job! I headed to my hotel to put my feet up and eat more food.

The hotel was in a fairly quiet area so I was glad I had planned ahead and made a big tub of tuna pasta for dinner, it also meant I could relax and not leave the room for the rest of the day. Having learnt from Rome I took a big pot of tea bags & milk and proceeded to drink 2 cups of tea at a time to ensure my caffeine intake was up (well, the cups were small!)

Arriving at the race village the next morning (with Martin Yelling no less) there was a lot more going on and I picked up a pace band from the Asics tent. Whilst I was queuing I gave my parents a call to let them know what I was up to as I hadn’t told them my plans. They were a tad surprised! The bag drop was quick and fuss free and, whilst there was a queue, there were a lot more toilets than in Rome, phew! Heading for the start line I made my way through the crowd to get to the 3.45 pacer, Ben.

I believe the race was started by Ron Hill but I didn’t see him. A group us us ran with Ben and the pace felt OK, I most definitely would have gone off too fast without him. If I’m honest I didn’t really notice much of the course, I simply concentrated on running, so I couldn’t tell you what I saw. I did notice the course wasn’t as flat as I thought it would be though! It wasn’t hilly but I’m sure there were more inclines than in London…

There were a couple of switchbacks early on and I shouted out to Keith and Matt in their Chasers vests. At mile 9 I saw my friend Kim who had come to support Keith, she cheered and shouted and I was pleased to see a friendly face.

I was impressed with the water stations, rather than bottles (that are a hazard when discarded), or cups (which are difficult to drink from whilst moving), they supplied pouches which were very easy to carry and water only came out when you squeezed it. They’re also much less of a problem when on the race course as if you tread on them they simply squirt out any left over water. Why don’t all races have these?

At half way I was still feeling good but I wasn’t convinced my legs could go the whole way at the pace I wanted them to. At mile 16 I started to drop back and I saw Kim again. She jogged alongside me whilst I started chatting. She told me to stop talking and get on with running – fair enough!

Mile 16…still smiling!

From about mile 18 I knew I wouldn’t finish under 3.45 but I kept pushing. I think the last 6 miles were more challenging than any other marathon I’ve run (and I’m sure it was all on a gentle incline!) but mentally I was feeling tough and I kept going.

The crowd support was great, unfortunately as a late entrant my name wasn’t printed on my number but everyone still cheered me on, it really does help!

As I ran back towards Old Trafford the crowds lined the street and I crossed the line in 3.56. The finish was smooth and quick and I got my medal, water and goody bag in minutes. In fact I got 2 goody bags because whilst I was debating if I wanted the small or extra small t-shirt (always difficult to know with unisex sizes) the man gave me both!

I saw Kim and Keith waving and was very grateful they waited for me (for an hour!!), as I didn’t think I would find my way to the pub for lunch by myself. We shuffled along to Salford Quays where I refueled on a chicken burger and cider (Kopperberg, which apparently is wanky London stuff…)

I eventually got home at 8pm and was absolutely exhausted (although Liam Gallagher was on my train so that made it more interesting, shame I both looked and smelt like a tramp). I ate 2 bagels and went to bed, yes, 2!

I thought the Manchester Marathon was very well organised, especially after Rome. The only small thing I would change would be to add some kind of sports drink at some of the stations. I never drink a lot of this but I often get a craving for it in the later stages. They did give out Shot Bloks though which I’m a big fan of (a bit strange to hear people shouting out ‘shots’ in the middle of a marathon!)

The race village, marshaling, water stations, crowd support and even the finish area were fantastic.

I would definitely recommend the Manchester Marathon but would I recommend running it 2 weeks after Rome? Only if you’re as tough as me!

What I learnt from this marathon is that anything is possible if you put your mind to it. Last year I thought running 2 marathons in a year would be too much for me but now I’ve run 4 in the last 12 months including 2 in the last 2 weeks! I’ve also been overwhelmed by the support I received from everyone offering advice, encouragement and, most importantly, their faith. Thank you.

The only problem now of course is that I have a double dose of the post marathon blues…

Maratona di Roma…ice cream, pizza and running

On March 27, 2014March 11, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat, Race Reports1 Comment

I was initially going to call this post ‘Where did it all go wrong?’ but, the more I thought about it, the more I thought that was unfair and would indicate that I hadn’t enjoyed the race which simply isn’t true. Sure, there were ups and downs (mentally and physically what with the hills) but hell I was running round ROME!

I arrived in Rome on the Friday night to leave plenty of time to settle and go to the Expo, plus I couldn’t think of a better place in the world to carb up! The Expo was a little out of town – the queue was pretty long and Katherine, James and I found ourselves queuing across a road that cars were still trying to drive on…this was the first organisational fail.

We (or rather James) was amused by the people dressed up as New Balance trainers and he insisted we pose for a photo for the Chasers site (funny innit). Collecting our race packs was petty simple but leaving the Expo was not – you’re forced around numerous stands in little more than single file and you get told off if you try to sneak out! The goody bags were much better than Frankfurt though with a New Balance backpack, technical t-shirt, sports drink and (obviously) some dried pasta!

When we eventually got out we stopped for pizza and I headed back to the hotel for some rest. Travelling, tapering and excitement is all very exhausting! I went out again in the evening to meet my friends Ruth, Nathan and Paul for dinner and then got an early night. We arranged to meet at 8am at the Arch of Constantine for an 8.50 race start. Simple?

Well, not so much… I sprang out of bed when my alarm went off and made myself some porridge with the little kettle in my room and left the hotel at 7.30. We were all staying in different places so I headed off towards to Colosseum on my planned route to meet my friends.

However, the route I was planning on was closed off and we were sent round the houses (or round the ruins should I say…) which was beautiful but I didn’t have a clue where I was and even less idea where the Arch was, there were loads of arches?! Following the crowd I realised I would be starting alone, alone in the rain.

Oh, did I mention it was raining?

Attempting to drop my bag off was the next challenge and next organisational fail. I ended up trying to push my way upsteam in an overly crowded area to the female baggage drop which was, of course, at the very back. Without meaning to offend, I found the Italian men very rude. There was pushing and shoving and elbows in the face, no chivalry here!

It wasn’t a great start, I was stressed. Of course when I finally managed to get rid of my bag I had to fight my way back down again, the clock was ticking and I couldn’t start a marathon without going to the toilet first!

Mr New Balance showed up for race day…

The next fail was the lack of signs and toilets – it looked like there were just 8 portaloos and there was no systematic queuing. I waited for maybe 15 minutes in torrential rain (hail at one point) before coming to the conclusion I would miss the start if I waited any longer and I was no closer to the loo.

So I did what any self respecting athlete would do moments before the gun – I peed in a bush. I met another woman doing the same, she didn’t understand a word of English but we understood each other!

I rushed off to the start area where there was more congestion and no way to get through to my start pen – there were only 4 but I was in Pen C and really didn’t want to be at the back of Pen D. But I was. Eventually we got to some railings that separated the start pens but no one was checking who went where and it was a chaotic free for all. I got into Pen C, relieved, but my relief didn’t last when I realised all the pens merged into one a few metres later and I was no better off than I was before. CHAOS, ARRGHHHHHHH

As soon as I got over the start line I was weaving and weaving in and out of people ‘scusi’, ‘excuse me’, ‘pardon’, ‘MOVE’ . By this point I gave up and just started shoving my way through which was met by some angry shouts in Italian. Don’t have a clue what they were saying but it probably wasn’t pleasant. Whatever.

All my early miles were 20-25 seconds slower than I wanted them to be and by mile 7 I realised I wouldn’t be able to make the time back. I think at that point I mentally gave up. I was delighted to bump into Ruth who was full of positivity, I thought about trying to keep up with her but, mentally I was out of the game and she sped off. I knew she would nail it.

The route was pretty awesome. Starting near the Colosseum the course wound round the city and along the river taking in temples and churches, passing St Peters Square and the Vatican, through Piazza Navona, round Piazza del Popolo, past the Spanish Steps and back towards the Altar of the Fatherland (which is a spectacular if controversial monument) and the Colosseum to take you to the finish line. There’s plenty to look at!

There were cobbles, but I was prepared for that and they weren’t really that noticeable for the most part, even in the wet. There were also some inclines but they were tolerable and the declines were enjoyable.

The water stations were a disaster. There was no water! At least no water readily available, you had to grab a cup and wait for someone to slosh a bit of water in – they weren’t generous with it either, were they rationing water on race day?! I dread to think how much worse it would have been on a warmer day.

There was Gatorade and food stations with oranges, bananas and biscuits as well as some other bits. I didn’t have any food but Paul had a full on picnic…he still beat me by some way!

Through a combination of a chaotic start, slow early miles, lack of organised water stations and generally feeling not quite right (I realised too late this was caffeine withdrawal, my usual 10 cuppas a day had been reduced to none…error!) I finished in a disappointing 4.04.

I got a lift when a group of British people shouted ‘go on the Brits, go on Katherine’, and James shouted at me with his little daughter Jessica at 36k. I’ll also never forget the look on Nathan’s face when he saw me walking at 37k – a combination of pity and errr, what are you doing?! ‘Just 5k, just 5k‘, he said. But 5k seemed so far…

Some thoughts I had whilst I was running:

Get out of my way
Italian men are rude
I’m never running a marathon ever again
Maybe I’ll give it one last shot in Amsterdam
Ooooo look at that!
I’m going to pull out
No, I really really want that medal
Oooo look at the pretty big building
Oh good, it’s raining again
Why do the Italians think a shot of water will get me through the next 5k?
I wonder what that building is…
Why are there twice as many sponges as cups of water?
I’ve just put my entire foot in a puddle, perfect
Does the Pope live there?
I’m embarrassingly uneducated
I’ve just been overtaken by a man with a distinctive limp
Whhhaaaaaaaa
I’m never running a marathon ever again…

As I rounded the corner from the Altar of the Fatherland I saw what could be the finish. However, my Garmin was well over 26.2 and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, from the experience I’d had so far it could be a decoy! Luckily it wasn’t.

Marathon number 5, and my 3rd international, was completed. Job done, now where’s that medal!!

The post race goody bags, which contained all the drinks, was just as chaotic as everything else. Pushing, shoving, elbowing. Frankfurt may only have had cups of water at the finish but at least there was plenty of it and I didn’t have to fight! I was ready to get out – it was a shame I didn’t see any of my friends at the end, especially as Katherine had run a similar time, if I had known we could have run together.

Anyway, I made it back to the hotel for a shower and a snooze then headed out for dinner and celebrations.

The Rome Marathon is a beautiful course in a beautiful city but it’s not well organised. As long as you go expecting that, and maybe even taking your own water, you should enjoy it. I really do love Rome.

What did I learn from this marathon? The Italians are not good at organising events but they are awesome at making ice cream. I tried 9 different flavours. Well, when in Rome…

26.2 on the streets of Frankfurt

On October 30, 2013March 11, 2015 By Girl Running CrazyIn Marathon Chat, Race Reports2 Comments

Watching the wind whip the German flag outside the hotel round and round its own pole, and the street sign across the road move back and forth whilst we ate breakfast, it was clear that it was going to be a blustery day. There was a storm approaching and we were about to run a marathon. Perfect.

Arriving in Frankfurt on the Friday the weather was quite mild and pleasant, pretty damn good running conditions if it had stayed that way. The hotel was ideally located less than a 10 minute walk from the Expo and the start line so it didn’t take long to collect our race numbers and goody bags of German magazines, dry pasta and a car air freshener (not the best goody bag…)

The rest of the day was spent taking a stroll through the fairly seedy red light district (apparently one of the largest in the world) and around the City past the Old Opera House and having a coffee in the main square, Romerberg. It’s fair to say Frankfurt is fairly dull and uninspiring, which was probably a good thing as I didn’t really want to be caught up in being a tourist when I should have been saving energy. However, the company of my Chaser buddies more than made up for it.

On the Saturday we took part in the 5k Pretzel Breakfast Run. I’ve never run the day before a marathon before so I was a bit apprehensive but I was ready to try a new tactic and remind myself that I knew how to run. It was actually enjoyable, despite the very heavy rain before it started which almost made me change my mind – in hindsight I was actually more worried about ‘jogging’ to the start with the boys than the 5k itself (their idea of jogging is my idea of a tempo run…) but they kept it easy!

I spent the rest of Saturday pretty much with my feet up until it was time for dinner. We’d found a great little Italian that served massive bowls of pasta the night before but they wouldn’t take us. Who knew finding an Italian to cater for 12 on a Saturday night before a marathon in Germany would be a challenge?! We convinced another restaurant we would be quick and they let us in – the highlight was James ordering pasta…and a pizza on the side just in case the pasta wasn’t big enough…

I slept pretty well despite the slight stress of the clocks changing, even a full on thunder storm failed to disturb me, and I didn’t wake until 4.30 which is pretty good for the night before a big race. I had my porridge, worried futilely about the wind and rain and then it was time to go.

As the hotel was so close we didn’t need to leave until an hour before the race started, all we had to do was drop off our bags and line up which was a refreshing change from usual pre-marathon travel panic.

Ruth & I ready to go!

The start area wasn’t as well organised as I expected, it was pretty much a free for all. It didn’t make much difference to me as I didn’t want to risk going off too fast (lesson learnt!) but the faster runners struggled to get near the front.

We were let off in waves to help congestion but as I crossed the start line the worst thing that could possibly happen at that moment happened. Despite checking and double checking, my Garmin had gone onto standby. Panic!!! I had now started running and my watch was trying to locate satellites in an area of tall buildings whilst I was moving. Luckily it didn’t take too long, I guessed I lost about 30 seconds before pressing start but I was more worried about my mile splits at that point anyway.

Despite being a fast and flat course, the same course in fact that Kipsang very nearly took the world record on 2 years earlier, fierce winds were going to be a problem. Then there was the rain, rain was forecast from 1.30 and with a late 10.30 start time I would be heading into the tough later miles at this point. I don’t mind rain but I didn’t really fancy an additional challenge at mile 20!

The first 10k or so winded round the City centre, with crowds of supporters on the street, before heading out along the river Main and back along some kind of duel carriageway(?!) then heading through the City centre again. Somewhere in that first 10K it started raining, luckily it didn’t last long but the stormy winds were to follow.

There’s a lack of water in the early stages – this made me quite thirsty later on so I had to really slow down at the water stations to be able to drink enough from the paper cups. I know bottles can be a hazard but at least you can carry them with you and drink more than a couple of sips. There was also some kind of fizzy drink and cola available, apparently it was flat, but it really wasn’t what I wanted at that point!

I paced well, I went off faster than goal pace but I held it quite steady until 22 miles so I don’t think it was an error. I saw Ruth at around 26k which really lifted my spirits but we parted ways a few kilometers later. After 22 miles the wind and fatigue got me, I was too tired to fight the gusts that were pushing me the wrong way. By this point I knew I was going to miss my 3.45 goal and none of my mental tactics were working to keep me going. I was sure it was going to end badly.

The finish was pretty spectacular – it ends inside the Festhalle on a red carpet with flashing lights and loud music, it’s a party zone. It was a shame it didn’t last longer as it was over in a few seconds. They funnel you out of the hall to collect your medal and there’s tables with various food and drink. They still weren’t supplying bottles of water though, just poxy cups, why didn’t they understand I was thirsty???

I crossed the finish line in 3.47.29…it wasn’t what I wanted…but it was a PB by 2 minutes. It’s difficult not to be pleased with a PB, or the fact that I paced pretty well up until the last 4 miles but I still have mixed emotions.

Will I ever actually improve my time? Whilst it was only 3 minutes quicker than London 6 months ago It was a massive improvement on strategy – it was a 4.5 minute positive split, much better than the 12.5 in London – at least I had improved something.

The post race area wasn’t easy to navigate. You had to collect your bag from one floor of the Festhalle, and then return your chip somewhere else so you didn’t get charged €25, and try to get through all the supporters who kept walking into me…OK maybe I was walking into them…

I had just crossed the finish line, everything hurt like hell, I was disorientated, I didn’t know where to go, I was thirsty and I was about to cry. Luckily I bumped into fellow Chaser Adam and was hugely grateful he helped me out so I didn’t need to cry in the end!

I guess you learn something new in every marathon – this time I learnt that I was capable of pacing well, I just had to man up in the last 4 miles. But I also learnt that maybe I’ll never be as fast as I want to be – my last 3 marathons have been just a couple of minutes apart, maybe that’s as good as it gets.

Anyway, it was time to park that thought and eat…

…and drink!

So, that’s marathon number 4. I have a new PB so I guess that’s a successful marathon number 4. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to smash it, and I’m not the type to just give up, I’m just not convinced I’m good enough.

What next? Probably a Spring marathon, maybe Rome, maybe Hamburg, maybe Vienna…

How do you pick which marathon to run next when you just want to run them all?!

On June 5, 2013August 7, 2017 By Girl Running CrazyIn General, Marathon Chat5 Comments

So I wasn’t accepted for the New York Marathon through the ballot. Given the $347 price tag for the entry fee alone I’m starting to think this was a good thing. I mean, for $347 I expect a solid gold diamond encrusted medal that weighs so much it’ll take me over my luggage limit on the flight home…

A few months ago, running more than one marathon in a year seemed slightly ludicrous to me, it’s just so much time and effort! But after London (where I failed to hit my PB let alone any other targets I set myself) I was keen for another challenge, especially as I now have the support of the Chasers (which I absolutely LOVE being a part of).

It also got me thinking, how much extra effort is it really? Really? I’m already pretty fit and I run on a regular basis, often clocking up 30+ miles a week outside of marathon training, so I just need to throw those extra long runs into the mix… What with the longer days and warmer(?) climes it’s got to be easier than training through the Winter. Hasn’t it?

So I now need an Autumn marathon to train for and my sense of adventure takes me outside of the UK. Like most marathon runners I have distant dreams of completing the World Marathon Major series, but it’s now June, Chicago has sold out, Berlin has sold out and New York were unaccommodating. What next?

Amsterdam was my back up if I didn’t get a place in New York, a guaranteed flat course, short flight and it’s a lovely little city…but then I found out the Chasers ‘official’ Autumn marathon would be Frankfurt…

I’ve been to Amsterdam before and I liked it. I’ve never been to Germany, what if I didn’t like the food? What if there was no pasta? What if it’s a city where no one understands me?! All these thoughts were going through my head and I struggled to make a decision, do I pick the ‘safe’ option in Amsterdam? Or do I sign up to a marathon in a country I’ve never been to before with a group of people who, although friendly, I don’t actually know at this point? What if they all finish an hour before me (likely) and I’m left in a post marathon daze on my own in a strange City?

Obviously I didn’t pick the safe option, that would be too easy. I’m going to Frankfurt with the club…

So I’m now entering my 4th marathon and I will still have only ticked one of the World Majors off the list. How many marathons am I actually going to run? The wishlist keeps getting longer… At what point will I break? How do I know when I’ve reached my peak? What if I reach the point where I never want to run again and get really fat and become a couch potato watching back to back soaps?

I don’t know the answers to these and I may very well find that 2 marathons in a year is one too many for me but, for the mean time, I’m fit, I’m healthy & I’m able and I fully intend to embrace that while I can.

I don’t speak German and I don’t like Hot Dogs, but I shall run the Frankfurt Marathon and celebrate with copious amounts of Jagermeister and pretzels, even if I am the last Chaser home!