London Marathon: a step too far

 So as we know this year has been full of cancellations and postponements for races. For someone who likes to enter races throughout the year it has been disappointing. Thus when the opportunity to enter the virtual London marathon came along I jumped at the chance. It was two weeks after my middle distance race, that should be training enough right? 

Oh Hilary. 

I planned a run down the Thames path, which was nice and flat, and using the route planner I figured I had to run from my house to the Oxo building and back to get to finish at Woolwich. 

The weather report was pretty grim, so I set myself up for the morning with a gilet and arm warmers. I also had my husband put physio tape round my arms where it had rubbed two weeks before and hadn't healed quite yet. 

I planned to leave at 7am and I think I was a couple of minutes late. Out the door into the rain for a very very long day. 

Ready to go out

The first bit of my run down the hill I felt warm and wondered if I'd over layered.  That was the only time I felt warm. It may have been early but there were already others out there. I saw one lady who was going to Grove Park and two Danson runners before I turned off towards Galleons Reach. I was glad that I had done a recce the week before so I knew the way to the Thames path.  I ran past the statues and wondered how long it would be before I saw them again. Out of Woolwich, down past the old Siemens buildings and the climbing wall, then on past the Thames barrier. Lots of faster runners were coming past me by this stage. The wind was really strong and the rain was just coming down. 

The route onto the peninsula began with several very large puddles. It was either attempt to climb around them or just wade through them. I just waded through, my feet getting soaked. The path was very narrow so I had to let runners and cyclists go by me. On went the wind and the rain. I knew that my husband was waiting for me at the O2 which pushed me on. Poor Stuart couldn't use his umbrella because of the wind. Finally I saw him. I was about 10 minutes late at this stage. I grabbed some water and coke and carried on. It was such a nice surprise to go past Ed's group of runners on my way round the peninsula to Greenwich. On went the wind and rain, through the puddles on through the narrow Thames path to Greenwich. Greenwich was a hive of activity and runners despite the rain and I got lots of cheers on my way through. 

Out of Greenwich, through Deptford and past an old friend's flat in Rotherhithe. At this point my phone starts going a bit mad (because of the rain) and decided on its own to call the emergency number. Suddenly I'm being asked if I need an ambulance. I felt so bad for the misdial. On went the wind and rain. The Thames path goes a bit fiddly at this stage, but I was joined by fellow Triton Ruth who showed me the straighter route. Thanks to Ruth, who sadly left me to get some drink, I managed to find the end of the run I used to do from work to Canada Water. Now I was on more familiar ground, I ran through Rotherhithe, past Tom and Rachel which was lovely, and on through the wind and the rain until I got to Tower Bridge. I tried at this point to get my phone out to send a message to my husband but it was wet and the touchscreen wasn’t working properly. After several futile attempts, I managed to send him a message that said “London beDGE3”. I meant London Bridge, although I hadn’t got there yet. There were lots of other runners and walkers in ponchos all doing the marathon as well, it was amazing with the weather. 

Finally I got to London Bridge, and I saw Ruth coming the other way. She’d managed to pass me somewhere where the path goes close to the river while she did the more straight version. She told me I didn’t have far to go to get to the OXO tower, where I’d arranged to meet Stuart. Everything was hurting by that stage. I was wet, cold, miserable, and wondering why I’d got myself into this. Past the Tate building and the Millennium bridge, oh London it’s been a long time. Finally, there was the OXO building and Stuart waiting in the shelter. I’m not ashamed to say I burst into tears when I saw him. It was so utterly miserable, my body was starting to hurt badly, and I just wanted to go home and stop torturing myself. Stuart gently reminded me that I could do this, that I was doing it for charity, and that I’d hate myself if I gave up. So, I pulled myself together, grabbed another glug of coke, filled up my water bottles clumsily with slightly frozen hands, and started the hobble back to Greenwich. 

Over half way, cold, wet, fed up

When I say hobble I mean it. My hip has always given me gyp when I do longer distances and because I hadn’t trained for the marathon it was particularly bad. I’d given myself a walk/run schedule, but my shuffle back was more limp/walk rather than run/walk. I shuffled back the way I’d came, passing Ed and her merry group of runners which was another cheering moment, but also by a guy who shouted at me “Stop running! You’re going to give yourself a stroke!” which was a concerning moment! I was messaging my friend Thea and husband when I got a chance, but because my phone had gone bonkers all I could send was messages in CAPITAL LETTERS so I’m sorry about all the shouting… Luckily I’d taken a spare charger in a plastic case and my phone hadn’t got to the “I’m too wet to charge” state yet so I could charge my phone while I ran/walked/hobbled. On went the wind and the rain, the other runners and walkers coming past me. Finally I got to Greenwich. I was wildly later than I said I would be (because I was hobbling) so my poor husband was waiting super patiently back at the O2. I’d also wildly overestimated my distance so I was nearly at 40km when I got to Greenwich. Back out of Greenwich I went, through the puddles, chatting to some random runner who wasn’t doing the marathon but was still running in the horrendous weather (why???). I hobbled on, unable to run now, getting to the O2, but it always seemed to never get any closer. I was in a LOT of pain by this stage, every step was torture. Past the golfing range (all the golfers tucked under a nice roof!), and there was the O2. Step by painful step I got there, and there was my poor saturated husband who had been waiting some time for me to turn up. I literally had maybe half a kilometre to go before I’d done the marathon distance. However, looking at the marathon app, it seemed to think I had at least a mile. Stuart agreed to walk with me to my friend Thea who was waiting for me nearer the Thames Barrier. So I had to continue, step by agonising step, finishing the marathon, and then carrying on walking towards the Thames Barrier. I just wanted to go home. I’d had enough of the wind, the rain, the pain, I wanted to get dry and warm again. But it was so lovely to see Thea who’d made a special effort to come out and cheer me on. Plus the extra distance I did meant that the app thought I’d finished the marathon as well, although about 20 minutes later than I actually had. 

I swore I would never enter another marathon again. And, nearly a month later, I’m still dealing with the after effects of running at least 10km on an injured IT band.

Finally finished!

It took a month for my medal to arrive, which was weird when I got the medal and you’re not sweaty and horrible.

Cotswolds 113 - If you're going through hell, keep going

 Last year - who knows when - there was a discussion on the TeamTwinkle page about doing Cotswolds 113. It was due to run in June and had a good deferral policy if for some reason we couldn't do it. I was going to say it was the only event this year I had booked, but then I remembered Brighton Marathon, and the Dart 10k.... never mind

Anyway, of course we know what happened next. Pandemic, lockdown, cancellation after cancellation of events. Cotswolds 113 was pushed back to September. I stopped training for a bit, couldn't swim, stuck my bike on the turbo trainer and didn't really push myself as much as I should have. In fact, most of my training was pretty much not pushing myself as hard as I should have, with runs in zone 2 resulting in pretty much half being walking.

My husband and I had decided to take the week before off as holiday and we spent a lovely week in surprisingly warm sunny Fairford. I'd convinced him to bring his bike along so we did a bit of a recce of some of the course before which helped my confidence a bit (after spending so much time on the turbo it takes me a bit of getting used to being back on the road again).  Unfortunately on the Friday my husband came off his bike just as we were setting off down the road so he spend most of Friday at the Great Western Hospital. Thankfully he didn't break anything but he was very bruised, battered and got nasty concussion, poor chap.

On race day, we had to vacate our property in the morning. So we were up at 4:30, making sure we'd taken everything with us, and packed up the car ready for the day ahead. We got to the car park in good time, and it was still dark. I of course hadn't packed a head torch but thankfully our phone torches just about worked so I could get the bike back together and set off towards transition. With the new COVID procedures in place, I had to state that I hadn't had any symptoms within the last two weeks and get temperature checked. That done, I could go into transition and start setting up. The guy next to me started chatting to me and told me that this was his first triathlon. He wandered off around the time I started admonishing my bike for being a pain (sometimes when I put the wheel in it doesn't run smooth). I can't be the only one who talks to their bike, right? 

Transition all set up

With my transition set up I was trying to feed myself through the mask which was kind of working (!) and I put my wetsuit on. I somehow managed to stretch the cap they had given us so it would actually fit on my (stupidly large) head and walked to transition. I watched the earlier waves go off, every 10 seconds, and noted how some were leaving their sandals at the start so they didn't have to walk over the stony ground. I decided to do the same, but forgot to set up my watch, which meant I got in the way while I was starting it up (oops!).

The swim - I really don't miss mass starts

The lake was a good temperature, but it was pretty cool outside so the swim was a bit on the chilly side. It was nice not to have to attempt to fight everyone during the mass start and didn't feel like I was crowded at all at any point in the swim. Of course you then don't know where you are in the race but given I was pretty confident I'd be near the end it was nice to see a line of yellow hats behind me. Water was a little choppy in places but I've definitely experienced worse. My swim line shows a pretty straight line through the course although it was slow, I'm pretty happy with my effort.

Out of the water and into a "neutralised" transition - they gave you 10 minutes of essentially free time to change and get your bike out to try and reduce the amount of contact you might have with other competitors. Thankfully my bike was sitting on its own so I didn't have to wait to get to it. Off on the bike course...

The bike - That feckin wind

And onto the bike I got. It's fair to say I've had two outings on my bike this year outdoors post lockdown, neither of which were anywhere near long enough, and usually involved a bit of stopping and resting (even had cake in the middle of one!). So I was nowhere near prepared for the ordeal of 90km on terrible roads and with a headwind that was absolutely unrelenting. I spent the first half of the ride freezing and then it started to warm up. I refilled my water bottle at 30 and 60 km, let myself have a couple of minutes rest, and kept going. It was awful. About half way round I was already in agony, my backside felt like it was being tortured by the saddle, and by 50km I was ready to cry. Every lump on the road (and there were many!) was another descent into misery. So many people came past me cheering me on - I had my TeamTwinkle suit on - that was a special bit of the day. The marshalls were brilliant too. I'd convinced myself I'd get to 60 km and stop and have a word with myself. The far turnaround point was about that so I stopped and had a chat to the marshalls. After filling up my water bottle and getting going again, I did feel better, even if my bike did feel like a red hot poker on my backside (I think I need a new saddle!). The last few kilometers were just awful, searing pain, sore top of back, hot weather, endless lumps on the road (you could see others had suffered with many water bottle "casualties" at the side of the road) and I was just fed up  of the wind. I demanded a kiss off my poor husband as I came past his marshalling spot to keep me going and then I did the final TT section, and finally got on the road to transition. Which was far longer than I remembered. I felt like I was nearly last by that stage, although there were a couple of others behind me. The bliss of being able to get to the dismount line and finally off the torture device that was my bike was like nothing else. I really needed more time outside on the bike this year.

The run - if you're going through hell, keep going

Through "neutralized" transition again, and on to the run. By this stage any semblance of cold had well and truly disappeared and it was HOT. I mean, not Hamburg hot, but hot enough. The fact that I didn't need to use the toilet at all between swim and the end of my run (about 7 hours of exercise) suggests that I was very dehydrated, which is probably why I couldn't get my legs going at all. That and the endless runs in zone 2 resulted in a desultory run which was poor even for me. The first lap was quite busy, with quite a few still on the course, and loads of people coming past me, more Twinkle support (thanks guys!). I was really pleased I'd taken my running pack so I could carry a bottle of Tailwind and a bottle of coke with me. The run seemed to involve lots of the lake that we'd previously swum in, an interminable stretch down to Somerford Keynes, most of which was in the burning sunshine, and on the first lap there were several people cheering us on all the time eating ice cream! Gah! I managed to shuffle round the first lap somehow, then got past the finish line where my husband and several Twinks were waiting. Again the support from the marshalls was absolutely brilliant. At some point the Twinkle behind me overtook me and offered to help with my running but I shoo'd her on. She finished well before I did. The second lap was interminable, again round the lake, again down the hot hot road towards Somerford Keynes, and finally to the aid station. I asked them if they'd still be there when I came around again, and they reassured me they'd be waiting for me. I threw more water down my throat, refilled my water bottle, threw water over myself and kept on going. I was half way, even if everyone kept saying "Nearly there now" I knew I still had over an hour of running to go. It was hell. Again. Someone came past me telling me they had only a km and a half to go, but of course I didn't, I had another lap. Finally, I get to the finish line (you could hear it from a mile away!) and started on my final lap. Got past transition, wondering how many bikes would be left by the time I came around again, then started off on my final lap. It was about this stage a very lovely marshal called Helen decided to join me on my shuffle/stumble/pootle. She was walking so fast that she didn't have to run beside me to keep up with me. I can't really remember much of what she was talking to me about (or prattling on, as she insisted) but it really helped me round my final lap. To my amazement she joined me for the entire 7 km or whatever it was. Soon enough there was a mountain biker behind us with a Cotswold t-shirt on and I knew I must be last or nearly last. It took me back to Edinburgh where I had a whole cohort following me on my last lap. So on we went, step by very slow step, round the lake, through the trees, on to the burning hot road that never ended to Somerford Keynes. I showed Helen the way and noticed the roads seemed to have lost a lot of the marshalls (there were only a few of us left on the course by that stage). Thankfully the water station was still there so I was able to get my last sploosh over the head with water and back round through the lovely village. As Helen was a maths teacher (or newly ex-teacher) she was able to do the calculations of how much further we had to go, so first it was 5 km ("just a Parkrun"), then it was 3 km, then just over 1 km... on the final stretch I seemed to find something from somewhere and actually got Helen running as I got to the finish line. Over I went, elated and totally and utterly spent.

Finished!