Yay I did it!!

Whe-hay! I did it in a time of 2:20:57  including two, yes two, toilet stops.  I can't believe I've managed to do something which seemed so insurmountable just a few months ago. Talk about on a high.  What a brilliant experience.

I'd been ill the previous week so on the Thursday I decided to take to my bed and indulge in a bit of Inspector Rebus.  No it's not a euphemism, just a gripping crime novel I'd just started.  Fortunately after plenty of rest and some serious snoozing I felt much better and so the trip to Birmingham was definitely on!

Come the morning of the race I felt pretty good and no sign of the nerves that often plague me pre-race.  So I joined my fellow Pink Wave-ers and eagerly awaited our start of 11:07am.  What an atmosphere.  Plenty of live music and everyone raring to go.  Off we set and after that it was simply a matter of getting from mile marker to mile marker.  Plenty of water stations and Powerade stations, loads of support en route, little children waiting to high five you or give you sweeties, live bands playing including the awesome gospel choir and also the DJ-ing lady vicar. Plus hilarious fellow runners such as the man with the false buttocks (raising money for Bowel Cancer), the 'baby', Austin Powers running backwards talking to the forward running frog, the giant bee and Simba from The Lion King.

I kept my pace down for fear of burning out before the dreaded hills at mile 10.  But guess what?  What hills?  I didn't even notice them! I don't know what they're talking about, if they want hills they want to come to Caistor, I'll show them a hill. So when I suddenly saw a 800m sign I started sprinting - until I remembered that 800m is still actually quite a long way and decided to slow down again.  Then when I saw 200m I decided to do a Usain Bolt.  It was brilliant racing to the Finish line.

So around £200 raised for the RNLI and a great big smug smile on my face.

What's next?

What in blue blazes...?

I've got blisters on the soles of my feet!!! Aaargh! How did that happen?  Months of training, miles of cantering - then I go mincing round Lincoln in a pair of black boots and tights and totally scupper me hooves.  Oh the agony! What a fool.

This morning was my last run before the race.  No turning back now.  I'm ready and raring to go.  Must try and get plenty of rest now. Especially with my poor feet to rescue and pamper. 

Last one

Long run that is.  I went out today to do 12 miles but stopped at 11.5.  Stomach cramps.  So that's me done now.  Just a couple of short runs next week and then hooves up till Sunday.  I got my race pack in the week and that got me all worked up. There's nothing like seeing your race number (15047 by the way) to make it all official and also make you wonder WHAT THE HECK HAVE I DONE?!!!!!!!  Especially when you read a little more about the route and realise there's a thumping great hill right at the end.  How evil.  I start cutting out at 10 miles and then I have to go up a hill? Nice one.

Norman Wisdom moment

Yesterday I braced myself for the usual Friday two-lap horror-that-is the long run.  11 miles was my intention.  First lap accompanied by my trusty running pal and her sturdy Jack Russell-type terrier.  He puts us to shame.  For every mile we do he probably does two, cantering randomly off into the fields and woods and pelting back at high speed.  Of course the downside is that he invariably materialises just in front of me, causing me to hurdle him like Jessica Ennis (not!). 

For the second lap I find myself alone and, having forgotten the ipod, have to call upon every mental strategy going.  Consequently after 9 miles I start to feel a bit desperate..  Scoff a couple of jelly babies.  Plan to run to the next tree.  Take an extraordinary interest in how many conkers are on the tree.  Count my footsteps.  Concentrate on breathing out for longer than I'm breathing in. Visualise the skinny latte I'm about to imbibe at the cafe after. As a result when it comes to the last mile I find myself dragging myself along like Norman Wisdom, one arm punching out in front in an attempt to push my body forward.  All I need is to wail 'Mr Grimsdale!' to complete the effect. What a state. How on earth are the last two miles of the race going to feel?  I'll be Norman-Wisdoming my way up Broad Street, Birmingham in full view of all.

Oh well.  One plus is that I seem to be losing weight at last.  Good job really, I've got quite enough weight to carry round that course as it is.

Dances with squirrels

That's my new Red Indian (sorry - Native American) name.  Or it should be.  Today I practically did a fandango with a particularly lively squizzer who decided to skitter across my path and then back again in the blink of an eye.  Just at the moment I had embarked on another surge in my pace.  It's called intervals.  You run at a pace and then for one minute you run faster and then drop for another minute and then back up etc. 6 times.  It's supposed to get easier.  Hah! And then you're supposed to either run faster or longer.  We'll see my friend.  Could do without the Strictly Come Squizzer moments though.

Giving me the cold shoulder

I don't know whether it was all that running in the rain but boy oh boy was my shoulder aching in the night.  It woke me up.  Good grief.  The joys of Ralgex.  Anyway it's not too bad today but who knows what brought that on.

Today I ran alone on account of not being able to dredge up any of my usual running pals.  I'm getting faster, which is an interesting byproduct, I'm certainly not trying to.  If anything I'm trying to keep my pace down for fear of 'doing a Lincoln'.  Don't ask.  It's all in the past now.  My first 10k back in March which means that I have managed to double my mileage in 7 months.  Pat on the back for me, says I.

Oh and I forget to mention that I'm going into complete meltdown now that there's only TWENTY DAYS TO GO!!!!! Aaaaaaaaah!