Yay, I beat Amy Willerton!

Are you sitting comfortably? I’d like to tell you a story…

You may have realized I have a tendency to go on a bit, but today I make no apologies. This blog is as much for me as for everyone else – I want to write down as much as I can possibly remember so in future, when the details have faded, I can relive one of the most amazing days of my whole life.

In fact all weekend was great. On Saturday afternoon, rather than sit at home fretting and getting all worked up, I went up to London again to meet some more of the Realbuzz internet gang in Hyde Park, some of whom I had already met on Thursday at the Expo. On Saturday there were loads more of them, most of whom were running the following day including a girl called Emelie who had come all the way from Sweden with her Mum, but others who were just supporting. It was a lovely afternoon and I spent quite a lot of time chatting to the lovely wife of a lovely man called Gerry, who suffers from a condition called Ankylosing Spondylitis, a type of chronic long term arthritis which causes him considerable pain constantly. His challenge for the year is to run seven long distance events (including London) – next up is a 50 mile “Two Castles and an Abbey” ultra event in the Kyrenia mountains in Northern Cyprus. Not only that but he runs in an orange Morph Suit! What a man!

My dress rehearsal went out of the window on Sunday as hubby drove me to Woking station not Guildford. I hadn’t really thought about it but the sight of so many people in running gear and carrying big red bags – all heading in the same direction as me and with the same goal – brought quite a lump to my throat.  I almost had a complete disaster at the station – I had removed my wedding ring and my Mum’s ring that I wear all the time as I knew my fingers would swell up during the day, but I wanted to keep them close so I put them on a chain around my neck. As I stood waiting for the train to pull in, however, I realized that the chain had come undone and the rings had fallen off. Panic! For about ten seconds I was distraught, but then I found them nestled down the front of my running bra! Phew! I tucked them safely into my bum bag; not a good start. I chatted to a nice chap on the train, and then to a really friendly lady at Waterloo East while we waited with about 2000 other people for the delayed train to Blackheath. I have never in my life been on a train as crowded as that one; I was so wedged in I couldn’t have fallen over even if I’d wanted to. Good job nobody suffered from claustrophobia or panic attacks!

At the Blue Start I bumped straight into one of the Realbuzz gang who’d I’d also met at the Expo, so we hung out for a bit and she kindly took a picture for me.

 I lost her after we had been to the loo for the first time, but actually it was quite nice to have some alone time to sit quietly and take in the atmosphere. I was surprisingly not nervous; very excited and so looking forward to getting started, while at the same time wanting every minute to last twice as long so I could fully absorb everything happening around me. Then it was about time to head to the pens. I went to the loo one last time – and almost had my worst nightmares come true when I came out to find literally everyone gone! Just like that, the crowd had all dispersed and I had an awful thought I’d fallen into a time vortex and come out hours later and missed the Start!! But no, they’d just all headed off to the start pens. I hadn’t appreciated how far it was to Pen 9, and when I got there I was right at the back, along with Elvis, a giant coffee cup and a kangaroo…

I was so far back I didn’t hear the Start Horn go, but suddenly everyone began to shuffle forward. I found myself close to the Run/Walk pacer, but he was planning on running 5 minutes at 11 minute miles and walking a minute, and I didn’t think I could keep up too many 11 minute miles. My plan, which I had trained to, was to stop and walk for one or two minutes at every third mile marker, so that’s what I stuck to. I crossed the line at 18 minutes past 10, started the watch and was off! So much after that is a blur – you’d think 5 ½ hours is plenty of time to take stock of your surroundings and soak up every detail, but in truth I was absolutely overwhelmed by the people and the noise. I had tried to study the course map so I would know where I was, but in many places it was impossible to appreciate anything beyond the road in front of me and the crowds at the side; I am sure many landmarks went by unnoticed, and many places I was completely unfamiliar with anyway so I quite often had no idea. I remember the first three miles just disappearing in what seemed like a flash, including a quite long stretch where there were sleeping policemen every 50 yards or so, complete with Marshals holding “Beware Hump” signs and yelling “Hump!!” very loudly, which made me smile even more than I was already smiling. I couldn’t believe it when suddenly there were the Red Starters coming in where the two routes merge and my first little walk stop. Also walking at that point was a lady wearing a purple PanCanUK vest like mine so we walked together for 200 yards or so and had a little chat. Somewhere in Woolwich I passed the Huddersfield Marching Band doing a sterling job – I do hope they all finished – and then I was past 5 miles and I knew my sister-in-law was waiting on the Trafalgar Road somewhere at around 6 so that made me even more excited. By this time my face was aching so much from all the grinning; I’d already high-fived half the children in London and made thousands of new friends, if only just for a few moments. (That’s one of the joys of having a slightly unusual name – I sure as heck knew they were shouting for me!)

The only trouble was, I didn’t know exactly where Trafalgar Road was or which side of the road Ruth and the girls would be on so I got a bit anxious – though not enough to miss the Royal Naval Museum looking remarkably well repaired after Thor had destroyed it at the end of The Dark World! – but suddenly I heard a yell from my right and there was my niece hanging off a lamppost waving. At that point I am afraid I committed the cardinal sin of race day etiquette and swerved right across the road in front of a whole bunch of other people (sorry!!) to reach them on the far side. I couldn’t believe I could get any more thrilled by what was happening but I did, and seeing them for just a few moments and having a big hug buoyed me up even more and I swear I almost floated round Cutty Sark, where I remember passing four ladies running for the British Legion who were carrying a life size War Horse puppet between them. Huge respect! (I also saw, but cannot remember where, the Wolverhampton bobsled team, dressed as Jamaicans and carrying a bobsled – not a real one I hasten to add, those things are seriously heavy!; several rhinos; several soldiers with full back packs; Bagpuss; Uncle Bulgaria; a man dressed as Mrs Brown; a woman in a hospital gown with big plastic buttocks and many others too numerous to mention. It was hard enough in normal running gear with proper sweat wicking fabric, Lord knows how some of those people got to the end.)

 Miles 7 and 8 were just more and more of the same awesome buzz, and then I was in Surrey Quays which I knew because my big sister used to live there, and another tiny walk at 9 miles. Just before 11 miles I had a total surprise to see my friend Debbie, who had run the Surrey Half with me, cheering at the side of the road. I hadn’t been sure if she was going to come, and it was just the most amazing feeling that she had bothered – we had a huge squeal and hug and bounced around like eight year old girls with a new One Direction pencil case… Not long after that, or maybe it was just before, who knows?!, I heard more screaming and saw another of the ladies I’d met on Saturday,  who was with other ladies from the Ankylosing Spondylitis Society to support Gerry;  they were wearing bright orange wigs and yelling and waving like loons. There were so many total strangers screaming my name that sometimes it was difficult to know if it was actually someone I knew or not, and indeed for those few shining seconds they were my best friends. I found that mostly they all loved it if I took the time to acknowledge their support with a grin and a wave; I know I was probably wasting energy but it was such fun.

God, I’m not even halfway yet…

Somewhere along the Jamaica Road I heard a voice behind me call my name and turned to find Emelie, running all the way from Sweden. Such a lovely girl, and we ran together for a couple of miles, including Tower Bridge. That was always going to be a huge highlight, and to have Emelie beside me as we turned the corner and saw the Bridge ahead was so special. We shared a look and said “Oh Wow” and took a picture (I wish now I had taken more but I was so caught up in everything I forgot…!).

 At the far end of the bridge was the first PanCanUK cheer point – I felt like a real hero as I ran past them all waving pompoms and screaming and cheering just for me. I had missed my little walk at 12 miles in all the excitement and having Emelie to run with, but at the Halfway point I told her I was going to walk a bit, so I lost her there – but thank you Emelie, it was wonderful.

I was on The Highway then where the course eventually doubles back on itself, and I actually loved seeing all the people going the other way. I had lost all concept of the course and how much further I had to go to be where they were, I just was in awe of how fast and strong they all looked. And to cap it all, the orange Morph Suit flashed by. I shrieked and yelled and waved but it was more because I was so excited to see him than in any expectation that he might hear me or acknowledge me. He looked great though; well done Gerry, I was so  ridiculously proud. 

This is actually an official PanCanUK picture - they just happened to catch Gerry on Tower Bridge!

I completely missed Mile 14 for some reason, and soon after the routes parted again I decided I could ignore it no longer and I really needed to go to the loo. I picked the ones in the underpass just at 15 miles on the way into the Isle of Dogs where at least it was shady and cooler, but unfortunately the queue was quite long and three of the cubicles were “unusable”… Say no more. So I stood in the queue for a good 10 minutes, but had a nice chat with the ladies (no gents for some reason!) around me, some of whom were already in quite a bad way. I felt sorry for the lady who said, “At least there’s only 9 miles to go now.” I think the extra two she’d miscalculated may have come as a bit of a shock! (So for those tracking me at home and my family on the course and my poor Dad fretting that something had happened to me, that’s where I was in that extra few minutes!)

As I emerged from the underpass I remember coming up behind Karaoke Man, who I presume was trying to break the record for “Longest Distance Run While Singing Karaoke”. He had a music box of some sort hanging round his neck, a microphone in one hand and his words in the other, and I ran in his vicinity for a good few numbers. It was fun for a while - “Keep on Running” was a good one, as was “Delilah” but “I Will Survive” was a bit much and I was quite glad to shake him off after a while! Sorry – I hope he succeeded in his attempt and he made a lot of people smile but a couple of tunes was enough for me!

I saw Debbie again just after that – she had braved the crowds on the Underground to see me again, and again at 18 miles in Canary Wharf (actually a short hop for her, three miles for me). By now I was well into unfamiliar territory, and not just the streets. I had passed my longest run timewise at about 16 miles, so knew I was being quite slow, and at 18 I was then beyond any distance I’d ever done. I was hurting quite a bit, particularly in the hips and shoulders, and my feet were tired and sore but I knew I was going to finish. At no point did it ever get dark enough for me to entertain any thought that I wasn’t going to get to the end; just never an option. In fact the last few miles, which I had dreaded as everyone said how hard they were, passed almost too quickly. I found 18 to 19 very long and quite tough – Canary Wharf was quite overwhelming with the noise and the crowds and the sun reflecting off all that glass – but suddenly I was at 20 and realized that’s why it had seemed so long; I missed the 19 mile mark!

From 20 onwards was a delight – painful but oh so joyous. I knew a friend was at a pub at 21, and even though I didn’t see her (and in fact she may have gone by that time, wouldn’t blame her, it was tea time!) the thought that I might do spurred me on. Then I was back on The Highway, where the slick organising machine was hard at work on the other side clearing up but the crowds were still in full voice and amazing. Round the Tower of London, gorgeous in the sunshine, and then I knew I really was on the home straight and my family and best friend were waiting at Mile 24 on the Embankment. That was all I could think of, just get there and it will all be worthwhile. My little walking strategy had gone a bit to pot by now, I was stopping a bit more frequently, and I planned a short walk in the Blackfriars Underpass where I thought there’d be a bit of quiet. Hah! The organisers have obviously decided they don’t like quiet so there were some massive speakers blasting out “Eye of the Tiger” as I walked through. The noise was bouncing off the walls and roof of the underpass and in fact I decided to run out as it was giving me a headache! Then I was looking out for Mile 24 and the PanCanUK second cheer point where hubby and son Andrew, my sister Lisa and my friend Helen and her daughter Amy had been so patiently waiting all day. But at least they also got to see Mo.

I was an absolute wreck when I saw them; sobbing like a baby as I fell into their arms. But what a lift! I was determined I was going to run from there to the end, and what a delightful surprise when the next mile marker turned out to be 25 – again I had missed 24 in my excitement at looking out for my family. Big Ben said 3:45 when I turned the corner at Westminster and I told myself I’d make the finish before 4 o’clock, which would be six hours from the Start hooter. Before I knew it I was sweeping round by Buckingham Palace with the flag flying proudly and all those people cheering just for me it seemed. The Victoria Monument and all the flags were the most amazing sight in the sunshine and then there was the finish. As I first saw it the clock said 05:56:and a little bit so I knew I’d make the six hours comfortably (and I knew my chip time would be considerably less anyway, it was just a psychological thing to pass under the Finish Clock before it ticked over to 6:00:00).

The little bit after I got my medal and had my official Finisher’s photo done was a teeny bit of an anticlimax to be honest. I was on such a euphoric high; tears, laughter, pain, pride all mixed into one huge ball of emotion, and there was no-one to share it with. I wanted to hug someone special and share the moment, but there was no-one there except Marshals doing a splendid job of processing us all and I wasn’t sure it would be entirely appropriate to hug them. It was all beautifully organised and I picked up my goody bag (so heavy – who thought all those heavy bottles were a good idea when my shoulders were on fire!) and my kit bag, which also seemed to weigh twice as much as when I’d dropped it off hours ago, texted my support crew about meeting at the PanCanUK reception just off Trafalgar Square and made my way slowly there. I arrived well before them, as they had got stuck the far side of the Embankment, and was made to feel really special and welcome (even though there were no sandwiches left) and actually I was quite relieved to have a quiet moment to sit and think of my Mum and try and take in what I had achieved. Having taken a brilliant piece of advice from a friend, I had my flip flops in my kit bag and it was such a relief to take my trainers off and let my feet breathe. (Though huge thanks to the guy in the Sweatshop who fitted me for those trainers – they were awesome. Not a hint of a blister or even any rubbing, even after all those miles in that heat.)

Eventually hubby, son and sister arrived, I had a lovely quick massage of the shoulders and calves, and then it was time to head home. The walk to Waterloo was interesting, particularly the steps up to and down from Hungerford Bridge, then we were on a train (I may have nodded off briefly) and home for a hot bath and some pizza and an early night.

My finish time was irrelevant, as I always knew it would be. But I remembered someone saying to me on Saturday that she bet I would surprise myself, and she was right. Not in the time I took (officially 5:38:57 but if I wanted to I reckon I could get away with claiming under 5 ½ hours if I take off the bit in the loo queue!) but in how well I coped with it. My split times were amazingly consistent, apart from the one in the middle, and I picked up after that pretty much where I had left off, despite having no technology other than a little stop watch, which I barely glanced at to be honest, and my internal metronome. Yes, I slowed a fraction towards the end but overall I was thrilled.  On the Marathon results page there is a section with statistics about each person’s run – mostly it shows I was pretty close to the back, but it does say that in the last 7.2 km I passed 779 runners and only 12 passed me. Awesome hey? I was delighted with my little walk stops – I know some people hate to “admit defeat” and walk a bit, but I know that, even though I could have run more, I’d not have enjoyed the day nearly so much. I cannot lie, it did hurt - a lot - and it was incredibly hard, but so very worth it, and I have bounced back remarkably quickly. So much so that I was a bit concerned that maybe that meant I’d not run hard enough, maybe I’d not “left it all out there”, maybe I could have dug deeper and pushed more, but you know what? It was never about that for me. I had the most amazing day, I have memories to last me a lifetime, I have made some wonderful new friends, and I have a fabulous medal to treasure forever. 

But now it’s time to get my life back for a while before I think about any more daft challenges. I’d like to keep running but maybe no more marathons. How could I top Sunday?

Oh, and Amy Willerton? 6:08:09… Job done. (No hard feelings and I sincerely hope she enjoyed her day as much as I did mine.)

Final preparations

It is the night before... I am not going to be able to sleep much! I have been carb loading much of the day, culminating in a huge plate of pasta for tea. I have packed my kit bag with flip flops, Vaseline, tissues and spare clothes for afterwards; my race bag is packed with jelly babies and energy gels, lip salve and paracetamol; my shoes are relaced with my PanCan UK purple laces and my timing chip is attached; and my fingernails are painted...

I cannot quite believe it is actually here now, and I still cannot comprehend how I am going to run (/walk) 26.2 + miles tomorrow. I have no idea how I am going to feel, either before or after, but I am going to try my very best to make it to the end, somehow.

And this is the "Before" photo. Some time next week, when I have recovered enough and gathered my thoughts, I shall blog again with the story of my race, and there may be an "After" photo!

Off to bed now.

Expo-sed

One thing you must do before you can run the London Marathon is turn up in person at the "Expo" at London's ExCeL, in order to sign your life away and collect your running number and timing chip. The Expo runs for four days in the lead up to the race on Sunday, and I went yesterday, taking my little sister along for moral support. She ran the Marathon in 2003 (in four hours 20 minutes...!) and was amazed at how much the whole thing has changed since she did it, not only in terms of the numbers of people but the organisation and logistics surrounding the event.

The first thing we noticed when we got off the DLR at Custom House was how many elderly ladies were running the Marathon this year. Good for them, we thought, just goes to show that age is no barrier if you put your mind to it. When we got into ExCeL, however, it became clear that actually most of them were probably going to the Cake and Sugar Craft Show in a different hall! Which my sister would have quite liked to go to instead. 

In the hall, I had to sign in and collect my number and kit bag ("I never got a fancy kit bag," said my sister), along with instructions on how to use the female urinals at the Start... Eeuucchh! (She never got those either.) Then we wandered around the show - loads of stands selling all things running, from bras to shoes to headphones to protein bars and everything in between, together with lots of charity stands and people advertising their own Marathons elsewhere in the world. We picked up a leaflet about the Northern Lights Half in Tromso in January, if anyone's interested in that one?! We went to visit the Pancreatic Cancer UK stand, where the two ladies were thrilled to see us and shake my hand. It was really lovely to meet them and to see how much the money I have raised is appreciated. There will be 110 PanCan runners this weekend, almost twice as many as they have ever had before, so it's great to see that the message is getting out there and people are working really hard to raise awareness and try to help. They gave me a goody bag containing a pair of awesome purple shoelaces for my trainers, among other small items, and we picked up some T-shirts, stickers and clappy waving things for the fans who'll be coming to cheer me on. I also signed the Wall of Remembrance for Mum, who felt very close yesterday. My sister said she could almost hear Mum laughing at the very thought of me running a marathon.

This is the London Course record - not my time!!

Then we went to meet some people with whom I have been on-line chatting about all things Marathon for the past few months in the Virgin Marathon Community. (I know, I know, never meet strangers off the internet! But I had my sister with me as back up and they turned out to be as lovely as I knew they'd be, if slightly bonkers in the way of marathon runners generally.)

Once we left ExCeL, as it was a beautiful day we decided to be adventurous and tackle the Emirates Air-Line, the cable car that crosses the Thames to Greenwich. It's quite high up in the middle and affords fantastic views all around London.

The Air-Line crossing the river in the background

Going up...!

West to O2 and Canary Wharf

East to the Thames Barrier

North to the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park

Going down

After that we had lunch outside the O2, then took the Thames Clipper river bus back round to central London. It's a really great trip but it also served to remind me how far the run is on Sunday - as the boat passed Greenwich and rounded the Isle of Dogs, past Surrey Quays and Rotherhithe on the left and under Tower Bridge, at which point I have to go backwards (not literally, no) and run all round the Isle of Dogs and Canary Wharf on the other side, then back to Tower Bridge before going all the way along the North Bank towards the Embankment and Westminster. Yikes!

It was a really super day, and nice to be able to do other things in London rather than just running stuff. I am really very excited now and just want to get it started. I know I am totally relaxed until about 18 miles, but after that it'll be between me and my grit and guts, and two million cheering fans! The weather looks like it will be kind to us, as it'll be dry and not too warm - at least to start with. The weatherman last night said "Pleasantly cool at the outset, but for those stragglers later on it may get a little warm..." The cheek!! Here's to the stragglers!

Dress Rehearsing

Today, with just seven days to go before the big day, I am dress rehearsing. So I got up at 05:30 (hubby is away on a business trip to some Middle Eastern sand box so I wasn't disturbing him, though I will next week!), had my porridge, got dressed in full race kit, Vaselined my toes against blisters, and at 06:30 I got in the car and drove to the station. It takes 7 minutes and I was there in plenty of time to have bought my ticket and got on the 06:57 to Waterloo. This would have got me to Waterloo at 07:55 (early Sunday mornings there are only slow stopping trains), with plenty of time to transfer across to Waterloo East for the 08:19 to Blackheath, arriving at 08:33. That's the plan for next week anyway! For today I came back from the station, did some laundry, emptied the dishwasher, Skyped with my sister in New Zealand, had a chat with my Dad in Cyprus and am generally mooching about killing time. I am currently "just arriving at the Blue Start", eating a banana - the last solid food before the start - and sipping some Lucozade. I have a bit more time to kill until 10:00 (probably go to the loo a couple of times and double check I have everything in my race day bum bag), when I shall head on out the door, walk to the end of the road pretending to be in the Mass Start shuffle to the line, and then run for 70 minutes. (Obviously I am not dress rehearsing the whole day...)

This is my last "long" run, then next week I have just 30 minutes tomorrow, 20 minutes on Wednesday and 10 on Saturday. I had 10 minutes yesterday too, and wasn't entirely sure what the point was at this late stage as I reckoned I'd barely even break a sweat, but once I started off I realised that the point is to remind your legs how to run! Having been tapering for two weeks (even though I did run 10 miles last weekend) it almost feels like I've got out of the habit, and for the first couple of hundred yards or so yesterday I was all over the place, rocking and rolling, huffing and puffing like a beginner. But fortunately that settled down after a bit and then I was ok. The 10 minutes turned into 16 by the time I'd got round the block but I took it very gently and was indeed barely sweating. I have no idea how far I ran as I didn't bother to take William with me; I could Google it but it doesn't matter. In the general scheme of the hundreds of miles I have run since October yesterday is a tiny drop in the ocean. Maybe I should add them all up. I'll let you know.

It's April folks!

I turned the page on the calendar this morning, and there it is. My date with destiny. OK, maybe that's a bit melodramatic, but at least my date with 26.2+ miles of London tarmac and a big shiny medal. Because I am going to get that medal. I am not going to have put in all this effort; all those lonely hours plodding around pavements, lanes and boggy towpaths, even those bloody awful treadmill and exercise bike sessions; all that pain in feet, ankles, hips and calves and everywhere else; all that time abandoning my hubby to his solitary Sunday mornings; all those tears of frustration and fear; all that expense of new shoes, running gear, so many different types of energy gel and evil sports massages just to fail now. God that makes it sound awful doesn't it? Why on earth would anybody do this? Because of the sense of achievement and pride at a challenge met head on and overcome, that's why. Because I never thought I could do it. Because of all those who have stood beside me every step of the way, cheering me on and encouraging me to face my fears and keep going, and who have dug deep and donated to my cause. And because of those who are no longer with me but who would be so very proud of me.

I look back to my first tentative steps on my training plan, back in those days when I was so terrified by the enormity of the challenge that I hadn't even dared to tell hubby that I was doing it. When I ran twenty paces and was out of puff. When I did half an hour and got back home so red and sweaty and doubled over gasping for breath that he was seriously worried for my health. But I stuck with it, and he stuck with me and we trusted the Plan, and now here I am, fitter than I have ever been in my life, capable of running for 3 1/2 hours (still pink and sweaty but not gasping for breath and bouncing back in double quick time). I trust and believe that I have done enough to keep me going for the additional two hours that I reckon I'll need, with the noise of the crowd and the excitement of the day to spur me on when I get into uncharted territory beyond the 18 miles. (Note to self: just don't start too fast!!) But enough of the emotional claptrap, what of the running? Well, you'll be pleased to know that you are almost up to date.

So far I am enjoying the tapering. It feels weird just to do three runs a week, and then only short ones. Last week I did half an hour on Tuesday and 50 minutes on Thursday. The Plan said "steady" but I did 4 3/4 miles at an average of 10:57 a mile, and that felt steady to me. Friday we went to Exeter to fetch son number 2 home from Uni for Easter. It's really lovely to have him back but within two hours he'd eaten half the contents of the fridge! Have to get back into the habit of regular food shopping. On Saturday I had to work - running a birthday party for 12 very excited six year olds, bug hunting, pond dipping and den building. Yes, this is work... (actually quite hard work; I was shattered when I got home!). 

Sunday was 120 minutes steady. Not so long ago I was in pieces the morning of my first 120 minute run. Full of self-doubt and really scared, I stood and cried at the very idea. Now it was "only" two hours, and I really enjoyed it. It was a lovely morning, not too warm to start with but brightening up. It was Mothers' Day, and the clocks had gone forward to BST so I was a bit late getting started but once out I headed down to the town centre and picked up the towpath out towards Godalming again. Last time I ran this route I had 2 1/2 hours to fill, so this time I didn't go quite so far, turning round just after 5 miles. I came across these two on the way:

As I turned back I had a Lucozade gel. I didn't really need it as I'd had a good porridge breakfast and had only been running an hour, but I wanted to try it out. I think it's the caffeine in them that gives them that really rich zingy taste which is quite unpleasant to start with, but this time I had plenty of water and I took a swig with every mouthful of the gel and washed it down with no problems. So I know that on the day that's two less gels I have to carry as they'll give me one at 14 and 21 miles. My run 3 miles, walk a couple of minutes strategy was also working well again, and I think on the day these short pauses will be the time when I dig about in my bum bag and get out something to eat - just a little smackerel of something every three miles should hopefully do the trick.

I stopped and took another picture as I approached Guildford. (I will probably be doing this on the day too so I need to practice faffing about getting my phone out and taking snaps occasionally!)

Lovely isn't it? I was getting home quicker than expected so I diverted off a bit towards the end. By this stage it was really quite warm and I was running out of water. Once William told me I'd done 10 miles I reckoned that would be enough; I could feel my head beginning to throb a bit and I have nothing to prove to anyone, at this stage I don't need to push myself to the point of dehydration - been there, done that - so I carried on to the church crossroads then stopped and walked the rest of the way home, even though I'd not quite finished the two hours. The first time I ran 10 miles (way back on February 2nd) it took me 2:02:40. This time I shaved more than 5 minutes off that.

So here we are, April is here and I have just a few easy runs left - 70 minutes this weekend, race practice. This means get up at the time I will on the day, have the same breakfast, wear the kit I intend to wear on the day (don't know about the weather though, long tights or short, T-shirt under PanCan vest or not...?), pretend to go to Woking and get on a train, go to the loo loads, and set off at 10:00. As for what next, who knows? At the moment I feel like "never ever again..." but that would be a shame, as I feel physically so much better than I ever have (apart from sore ankles every morning) and I have lovely toned legs! I am thinking maybe 26 miles is too much, and too time consuming, but there are lots of Half Marathons and 10ks out there that would give me a target - I know if I don't have one I won't go running - and not be too difficult to fit in. So we will see. For now, my date with my shiny medal is finally on the page in front of me. I can't wait but am as nervous as I am excited. As Jessica Ennis-Hill said before the 2012 Olympics, the trick is to get all your butterflies flying in the same direction. I can feel the butterflies aligning.