London Marathon 2018 -hottest on record.

With my brother Tim post-race, pre-beers

'Isn't it funny how some people look like they're just shuffling along?' I distinctly heard a woman in the crowd say, distinctly about me.

Shuffling along

It was surprising how many individual comments that did pop out from the wall of noise. In my four previous marathons the biggest field has been about 300 runners with a handful of spectators gently hand-clapping here and there, so lining up with over 41,000 others on a course where every inch of barrier was thick with crowds was always going to be a different experience. I'd never had a huge urge to run London, put off by tales of it taking 40 minutes to get across the start line, queues for loos and no space to run your own pace, but seeing as I'd scraped a Championship place by running sub-3:15 at Montauban last year it seemed rude not to use it.

Arriving at the Blue Start with friends and fellow Striders, Scott and Ian

 My build-up had been far from ideal, having depleted myself and trashed my knee by completing a 24-hour trail race in February. I knew I was jeopardising my marathon by running it but I thought I'd be able to recover reasonably in 2 weeks and then have a solid 8-week training block using the cracking plan written for me by Kristian Morgan. I actually couldn't run again until the end of March, which gave me 4-ish weeks that had to include a bit of a taper.  I had cross-trained on my bike, the stair master and by ski touring so I felt really fit but not run-fit and my leg turnover was sluggish. I kept the faith though, fairly sure that I could make it round and determined not to miss the shared experience with my brother, who was running his second marathon. I entered back-to-back 10k, half-marathon and 10k races to wake my body up a bit and they went unbelievably well, but I was on a knife-edge with my dodgy knee and I was lacking long runs. I know endurance isn't my biggest concern though! The races gave me the confidence to set my 'A' goal as a sub-3:10, my 'B' goal as a PB (sub-3:14) and my 'C' goal as a new club record of sub-3:21. I picked up a 3:10 pace band at the expo and it made me feel physically sick looking at the audacious splits -basically 2x my best ever half-marathon, back-to-back.

I promised I'd smile the whole way round. 45 official photos and not one grin!

 It was surreal being on the Championship start, watching Sir Mo and the eventual winner Eliud Kipchoge warming up and listening to runners discussing their target times of 2:30. There was still a queue for the loo, just amongst faster people. I got mobbed at the start, as I had anticipated, by the fast 'Good for Age' runners who started just behind us. I couldn't run at 4'30/7'15 pace because it was chaos and I just had to run at the speed of the people around me, which was a bit hotter than I'd have liked, but actually felt ok. I had thought that being at the pointier end of the race would buy me some space, but absolutely not. I couldn't get near the blue racing line and I missed the first two water stations from just being stuck in a swiftly moving mass. It was pretty scary and I was terrified of tripping other people up. It got even worse when we merged with the runners from the red start. The kilometres were clocking up quickly though and I was at 7k in what seemed like no time.

I told you I got mobbed at the start!

I made my way over to the gutter so as not to miss any more water stops, which meant running through a perilous sea of discarded plastic bottles, but I felt happier tucked over to the side. The showers were useless -just a light spume -so I stopped going off line to seek them out. I was chucking all my spare water over my head and did get one effective dousing from a fireman's hose. I noticed that I was burning though sugar and started taking gels (Torq and Gu Roctane) very 25 minutes instead of to my 30-minute schedule. I got down a few salt tabs but they turned to mush in my plastic baggie so it became increasingly difficult and I would pay for this later on.

Ah, that's a bit better.

I was absolutely on target pace, with my watch showing an average of 4'27 per km (7'11 miles). I was so focussed I didn't even see the Cutty Sark. Or Big Ben. Trouble was, I was running a greater distance than a marathon with not being able to follow the blue line and all my weaving about. Doesn't matter what it says on your watch, it's the course markers and official timings that count. I didn't realise that I wasn't going to run 3:10 until I was into the last 3 kms and I double-checked my pace band against the clock.

What Strava said -I'm taking that!

Having felt really positive, relaxed and confident throughout the race, it all suddenly started to fall apart. I was shocked to be suddenly off-target and the leg cramps that had been threatening since halfway really kicked in. I was tying up, which has never happened to me before, and every footfall came with the threat of a possible collapse. I was willing my body to send any remaining electrotype reserves to my feet and calves, which felt like they belonged to someone else entirely. Even at the 600-metres to go marker I wasn't certain that I'd make the finish. Everything was numb and wobbly.

Numb and wobbly

Finally a smile!

PB of just over 2 minutes for Mrs Cameron

I'm obviously pleased to get a new PB, but I'm also frustrated because I know there was more in there. Strava calculated my best marathon time during the race as 3:07 and I think I was possibly in that kind of shape, had the conditions been kinder and had I not put in those darn extra 900 metres.  

There were people in a lot worse shape than me though -there was carnage everywhere from about mile 20 onwards. Some of the best club runners in the country hobbling along, keeling over, lying down in the tunnels, trying to stretch out cramping legs. The medics were doing a brilliant job but they were a bit overwhelmed. I do think it might have been an idea to provide an electrolyte drink on course. There was water or Lucozade, but nothing with any salts. In French marathons they always have water with a little bit of glucose and table salt on offer, which is a very simple thing but one  that can completely revive a depleted runner. 

Tough day at the office for most

Tim had a bit of a stinker, after suffering from a virus for the past 3 weeks. He showed huge sticking power to jog it in nearly 3/4 hour slower than he'd hoped for. He hasn't reached his potential yet so we'll have to enter another one next year. Striders Scott and Ian also fell a bit short of their targets due to the heat, but I think we all enjoyed the experience. 

With my brother Tim post-race, mid-beers. Peroni. Went down a treat, all 5 pints of them.

Civilised beer garden with Vicki and Jess

So much support from family and friends. My Dad and Jan here. 

Mum casing out the final stretch for viewing spots pre-marathon

Trix chez Her Maj. 

  Thank you to Angus, Felix, Tali, Mum, Richard, Dad, Jan, Ruth, Andy, Sally, Roly, Eleanor, Vicki, Jana, Becky, Jason and everyone else who was there cheering me on on the day. Thank you equally to those of you who supported me from afar. 

A message or a FB post means just as much and it's wonderful to see how many people were following my progress. Thank you also to Amber for house-sitting. Without her I wouldn't have been able to leave the puppies. Thanks all -it is a team effort. 

The A to Z of the North Downs Way 100

Acorns. National Trust acorns on signs, that I dutifully followed all day. So, I did go wrong pretty badly three times (about 3kms worth) but when I backtracked I could see my mistakes clearly and it was just proof that I am one of the few idiots who can actually go wrong on the NDW. 

Blisters. Huge ones that felt like razor blades. One on every toe and underneath the balls of my feet. I burst them with safety pins from my bib on a beautiful bench atop Bluebell Hill (altogether now: I left my bodily fluids, on Bluebell Hill….) and then once again at Detling where the juice squirted into my eye and nearly into the eyes of the brave souls who were expressing concern.

Coke. Never touch the stuff. Except on race day when it is pure nectar and I crave it. I don’t allow myself to have it until after half way because once I start on it I can’t stop. I even had it put in my bottles by the wonderful volunteers at Lenham, which was a first and a dangerous slippery slope, I fear. 

Detling. 80 miles in. Muddled memories of a load of lovely people who really cared about me, made me veggie soup, got up close and personal with my disgusting feet and told me that they KNEW I was going to finish my first 100-miler. 

Still smiling (on the outside) at 80 miles

Evening. My favourite time of the day during this race was when the night was closing in and I was seeing how far I could go using natural light and watching the scenery turn to shadows then to total darkness. This might sound a bit feral but my animal senses kick in and I feel safe and strong running through the woods. 

Friends. I caught up with so many friends, old and new. Thanks for the satsuma, smiles and cowbell ringing, Jana. Lovely to meet you at last, Flavien and Goska. Great to see you again, Mari and Sara (Smoothie Mule). Zoe, you get your own letter for saving the day. 

                    

Hills. Controversial….but where were the hills?! I found the course so runnable. I absolutely loved it and I can’t believe there was 3,500m of vert. It felt almost flat, apart from The Slope (see ’S’). Coming from training for Ronda dels Cims in Andorra made Box Hill look more like Ant Hill. 

NDW profile -rolling

RDC profile -no wonder I started melting down at 80k

Gels. I think I might be right in saying that I ate 20-30 gels. It’s the most calories I’ve ever managed to get in during a race and my energy levels were really constant. No dark moments. Yuck, though! 

Injinji socks. First time I’ve had such bad blisters since I’ve been wearing this brand. Wonder if I need to get bigger shoes for 100s because my feet did really swell up. 

James -two people called James in fact. James Ellson for being the most super-cool RD ever (he is even posting the drop bag that I abandoned at Detling in favour of catching a flight to France to me) and James (Jimmy) Smith who entertained me between KP and Wrotham by his inner struggle of wanting to finish but also wanting really badly to drop out and go and have a few pints with his wife Nicole, after a few weeks on the wagon. He finished the race.

Karl Meltzer. My coach who I trust implicitly and who knows exactly what works for me. I was right not to doubt his very conservative training programme for the last 4 weeks. Karl, I can finally join you in saying ‘100 miles is not that far’. 

Karls' coaching services here

Lenham, where Rob Cowlin and lovely team who treated me like a princess when I pitched up all stinking and fatigued in the middle of the night. 

Mari Mauland. We had dinner together the night before and ate exactly the same food -I can recommend the Pizza Express vegan pizza and coconut ice cream if you want to have a good run! What a star she is -I was very happy to share a few miles with her and then to follow in her wake. I hope she smashes the A100 too.

Mari, Nick and me in matching rucksacks

Nick Marriage, who I ran with for the first hour or so and who tripped up even earlier in the race than I did. Its not an ultra unless you trip up at least once. 5th place finish for him -nice running. 

Old Geezer. As I was running past a row of cottages at about 11pm, an old guy was putting out his bin. He asked me where I was headed to and when I replied ‘Ashford’ he was visibly shocked and said ‘That’s a long way, love’. I couldn’t bear to tell him where I’d started from.

Pain. I entered the pain cave early on, at about 30k. I felt an old enemy niggle in my right knee spark up and the pain built and built all day until I could neither straighten or bend it. The pain was so acute that I just had to gut it out and run through it. It hurt when I stopped, it hurt when walked, it hurt when I ran -so I just ran. 

I wanted this really, really badly! Knee pain, schnee pain.

Question. How many days until I can enter the SDW 2018? 8 more sleeps? OK then! 

Running. I just bloody love running! I’ve done a lot of mountain races (including my DNF at my first attempt at 100-miler in July at Ronda dels Cims) and I conclude that I am a runner foremost and a hiker second. Love the training in the mountains, but covering the ground at a faster pace is so enjoyable. Faster being a relative term, of course.

Slope. To be precise, the teeny tiny little incline just before the entrance to the Julie Rose Stadium that after 103 miles rose up in from of me looking like Coma Pedrosa. I sneakily walked it in the hope that I would gain energy for when everyone was watching as I tried to look like I was running like David Rudisha around the lap of the track.

Tea. The finest cup of tea I have ever drunk. Decaff with soy milk and a veggie sausage sarnie on the side at the finish line, served with a smile -oh my. 

Ultrarunning. What an insane 'sport', practiced by an ultra-nice bunch of people. Thanks to my sponsor dietnperf for believing I can do this crazy stuff. 

Volunteers. The best, ever. Friendly, helpful, positive, cheerful, absolutely top. I still can’t believe they filled my bottles for me and tucked gels into my rucksack. Thank you all for giving up your time and for everything you did behind the scenes. 

Wrotham. 60 miles in. Got free pants from Tania at Runderwear, who was also relentlessly positive. What’s not to like?

Wrotham -a cherry tomato and free knickers

X-ray. In denial, major denial but I think my knee is buggered and I’m probably going to have to go against my usual doctor-dodging philosophy and get it looked at. On my way I home I shambled through Gatwick airport and several people asked me if I was ok. I told them it was self-inflicted. Almost needed wheelchair assistance.

Yummy food. I wish I could risk eating more ‘real food’ on course, but what I did sample was delicious. New potatoes dipped in salt at Botley! Thank you to all the gorgeous girls there. 

Zoe Greenfield. My lovely friend who surprised me by being at Knockholt Pound and helped cater for my every need including a mad car dash back to KP to pick up the spare battery for my head torch that I’d left in my drop bag. I needed it too because my Nao+ only lasted 3 hours -phew! And I needed my spare head torch to change the battery on my main head torch. Whose genius idea was to have a spare torch as compulsory kit? 

Thank you Centurion! I will be back…if I can ever walk again. 

Thanks to Stuart March for this great photo.

Lovely official race report here

Link to the Centurion shop for all your compulsory kit and more here

Le Grand Trail des Templiers Ultra-Marathon 2014

 

'Marginal gains' is what Angus cited as he carried my rucksack for me up the three steep flights of stairs that led to our hotel bedroom. I remember expressing concern at being out of breath as I climbed them, bearing in mind I was supposed to be fit enough to tackle 3,500 metres of elevation over 73 kilometres the following day. Angus also insisted on sharing a double bed with the children, leaving me with the luxury of the other one in our family room all to myself. Despite his altruism, I barely managed 3 hours' sleep and was in my race kit, having eaten my granola with chia seeds and maca root by the time my alarm went off.

It was harder to wake the rest of my crew, but we were shivering away in a huge marquee at the athletes' village well in advance of the 5.15am start. The other runners lined up on the start-line quite early but because I wanted to hang onto my jacket for as long as possible, I couldn't find a way into holding pen 1, where I had earned a place due to my proven trail race results. I had to shin over a metal barrier and squeeze my way into position. Everyone else seemed to be chattering away but I just took and few breaths and appreciated just being in the moment. I no longer felt cold or nervous -I felt almost impassive, like I was just going out for a solo trail run.

I could barely hear the countdown or the gun going off, but the ethereal magenta flares and monastic music that also signalled the start were thrilling, as was the sight of 2899 other headtorches bobbing in the blackness.

From my start position a good way behind the Elites we didn't so much surge forward as trickle -I was surprised at how slowly we set off en masse. I reassured myself that this was a good lesson in patience and that I would reap the energy-saving benefits later on. We shortly reached the first climb and any thoughts of patience went out the window. Climbing is my strength and I was held up in a slow-moving pack, up a narrow path, with no way of overtaking. I was overcome with frustration and wished I had set off quicker and tried to overtake a chunk of the field before we got to the first hill.  Occasionally I would spot a short-cut by dodging under bushes and across uneven sections of trail, but mostly I had to stand in line in the procession that was snaking up the cliff.

The darkness was absolute and the way was lit purely by headtorches in motion, which cast shape-shifting shadows. At the top of the climb I sensed that I was in a pine forest by the Christmas tree-scent and the rutted, needly path underfoot. The soundtrack was the rhythmic footfall of a pack of runners moving forwards together and my own breath marking time.  The stars faded as dawn approached across the plateau and the first long descent was just in daylight.

The reward for having run the first 21k (a half-marathon) was hearing my children shout my name at the first aid station and accepting their offerings of food and drink supplies. Tali had my running poles ready, but I decided not to take them until the next stop. I forced down a CLIF bar and pressed on to the next ascent, where I was once again impeded by much slower climbers. This pattern would contiune until the fourth significant hill, by which time I'd managed to pass perhaps as many as 100 runners either by expending a huge amount of energy scurrying past them 'off piste' or by being more efficient at the aid stations.

It wasn't until after the third pit stop that I felt I could run at my own pace, finally away from the procession. Unfortunately I missed my crew of Angus and the children at that point because they had to follow a convoluted detour on the roads, so I had to forage for nutrition. The regional speciality is Roquefort and the entire room reeked of sweaty blue cheese- enough to turn any vegan's stomach. I ate a few chunks of ready-peeled banana, but the ready-peeled status meant that the banana wasn't portable. I grabbed a few dried apricots to take with me, downed 3 cups of sports drink and prepared myself for the next 21k section that I was now facing without my own nutrition. I had also been hoping to take a few painkillers, because somewhere around the 30k mark I had strained my right adductors and the ache was getting more acute.

The next section was the hardest of the race for me because my adductors grew gradually more painful, I ran out of food and also water. The dried apricots went down well, but made my stomach feel bloated. I was craving one of my missed Marmite sandwiches or a chunk of apple cake. I was also desperate for a drink and the heat was escalating into the mid-20s.

 Seemingly in the middle of nowhere was the surprising sight of a deckchair housing an ancient-looking man with a straggly grey beard. He was propping up a cardboard sign scrawled in black marker pen with the distances to the next aid stations; apparently it was only 8k until the next water stop. I was initially extremely bouyed up by this information, but then I realised that the pace that I was sustaining over this techinical, moutainous terrain was half the speed I could manage on the flat and that I was still in fact well over an hour away from having a drink.

When I arrived at the much-awaited water station, it turned out to be two outdoor taps slightly off the race route and clogged up by a queue of thirsty runners. I was reluctant to lose too much time, but I was desperate, so I waited my turn. My hands felt useless as I unscrewed the lid from one of my empty bottles and in my haste I threw most of the water on the floor. I think I ingested less than 250ml. The coursee was relentless and as soon as we left the water point we were tackling yet another enormous climb.

Passing that water stop was motivating though, because it meant that I was one step closer to the final aid station where Angus and the children would be waiting. I would be able to choose from my own selection of food and take a couple of painkillers. My discomfort levels in general were so high that my thirst was detracting from the pain in my adductors, general aches, pains and fatigue and vice versa. What I couldn't ignore was that my adductors had become so painful I couldn't properly bear weight on my right leg and I had to use my poles as crutches. Uphills were the best scenario, although when it got really steep I had to pick my useless right leg up with my hands and place it higher up onto the next huge rock. Despite this, I was still climbing more strongly than the runners around me. There were several bodies lying down or sitting next to the trail and I was once again stuck in queues of slow-moving traffic on the ups. Downs, however, were excruciating and I bore most of my weight on the tripod of my left leg and carbon fibre 'Zimmer frame'.

Although I was having issues, I felt exhilarated and alive from the pure privilege to be experiencing one of the most fulfilling and spiritual adventures of my life. The scenery was spectacular and the course-designers had sprinkled in many surprises for us -a glimpse of the Millau viaduct, a twist in the path that took us through a ruined building, a rock formation or, at one point, into the obscurity of a cave.

My favourite and most welcome sight of the day was a more familiar one -it was spotting Felix by the side of a forest path on the approach to the final aid station. He had run out to meet me and I couldn't keep up with him as he rushed ahead to get my nutrition ready. I refuelled on coconut water, dioralyte and apple cake and I accepted team hugs and an isotonic gel to take on the final leg. 'See you at the finish,' Angus shouted after me, 'Go, go, go!'. I set off at more of a power-walk than a run.

As had been the case for most of the length of the course, the support was fantastic during the last stint. There were people balanced on rocks halfway up the cliffs, cheering and shouting encouragement. One boy was collecting high-fives from passing runners and I asked him how far there was left to go. 3.5k was the reply and normally a 3.5k run wouldn't even touch the sides, but my adductors were so sore that he might have been telling me that I still had a marathon to run. I was being overtaken by this point, including by two women who I had passed a long way back. Both were hugely supportive and offered to run with me to the finish because they could see I was injured. Of course I refused, but I was hugely touched by the sporting gesture.

I limped down the final descent, having taken nearly an hour to run that 3.5k. It was a strange feeling coming to the end of a race with energy to spare; the chassis was broken but the engine was still firing on all cylinders. I felt like I'd really missed out on my chance to finish strongly and to push myself to the best of my ability. It was humbling having to limp and move to one side to let faster runners pass by, but I did find a zen-like acceptance and gratitude because I knew I was going to complete the course.


There were crowds lining the last stretch and I forced myself to run -there was no way I was crossing that finish line at a walk.

There was a short set of steps leading downwards, where I passed a man who was walking backwards, laughing that his quads were shot to pieces.

 I heard my name being called out over the loudspeaker and I reached the wooden arch that signalled the end of the adventure.



Salty hair and a bloated dried-fruit stomach

The giant screen in front of me confirmed that I'd finished in 11h09, 26th female, 6th in my age group and 462nd overall out of a field of 2,900 starters, which I was surprised and delighted with considering my injury. 1,000 runners dropped out and the last finishers came in after over 15 hours, by which time I had drunk 2 bottles of fizz (one water, one wine) and  persuaded a restaurant that I really did want a meal without meat, fish, eggs or dairy.

It was the first time I've run with poles and I wouldn't have made it to the finish without them.

The organisation and atmosphere at the festival were the best I've experienced. I have to take part again. Maybe next year I could have a crack at the 100k Endurance Trail which would give me 3 UTMB points.......

The Official Results 

Women's podium -Nuria Picas was first female

Men's Podium -Benoit Cori won the race.

 

 

Tofu Bourgignon

I'm going to stay with my parents next week so I was unable to further delay breaking the news to them that not only I have gone back to being a vegetarian but I'm pretty much only eating products derived from plants so technically speaking am 99% vegan. The 1% is the occasional egg from my own free-range, home-bred, scrap-fed chickens. The reasons I was reluctant to inform my mother may become apparent if I type out our telephone conversation from this evening:

Mum: I've been Googling veganism and I've got some really good ideas. We're having the family over and I'm roasting a lovely leg of lamb for us.
Sarah: I'll just have the veggies, like I said in the email. Don't make anything special.
M: I got in some tofu and I thought you could make yourself a tofu Bourgignon.
S: It's very kind of you to get in some tofu but honestly, I'd be happy with the roast potatoes and veg.
M: Or I got in some lentils, chickpeas and nuts so you could make yourself a crumble. A vegan crumble! I found a recipe on the internet.
S: Thanks for that; maybe I'll see how I feel when I get there.
M: So you'll be here at 3 o'clock? I've filled the top shelf of the fridge with vegan cheese in case you want to make yourself a sandwich.
S: I hope you didn't get too much stuff in, Mum, I'll only be there for two meals.
M: Well I thought if there is anything left over you could put it in your suitcase and take it back to France with you. I got a packet of vegan mozzarella, some vegan Cheddar and a spreadable vegan cheese which looks just like Dairylea.
S: Thanks Mum, that's great. I'm only bringing handbaggage but I can try to fit something in.
M: Now I wasn't sure which milk to get, so I bought a litre of soy, a litre of almond and a litre of oat milk.
S: They're all nice, sounds like there'll be plenty so you could try some almond milk on your porridge.
M: That reminds me, what are you having for breakfast? I've got some porridge sachets in and some raisins. Shall I go and get you some quinoa so you can make quinoa porridge?
S: Normal porridge would be fine or just a piece of toast, honestly don't worry.
M: What is quinoa like? Is it disgusting?
S: It's ok with the right sauce but it's not as nice as couscous.
M: (Sounding surprised) Do you eat couscous?
S: Yes -anything that comes from a plant, nothing that comes from an animal.
M: (Sounding affronted) Well yes, I do understand the basic principle.
S: I haven't found it restrictive at all. I made some mince pies last night with veggie mincemeat and just used margarine instead of butter.
M: (Lengthy pause) You can eat pastry?
S: Made without butter, yes.
M: What are you cooking tonight?
S: Chickpea and beetroot falafel with homemade flatbreads and mint dressing.
M: What are the children having?
S: The same, they are really enjoying everything.
M: Well I suppose they're getting proper food at school. Anyway, I've got in some soya yoghurts too. They're on the vegan shelf of the fridge. When you get here I thought we could go to the supermarket and I can show you the vegan sausages. You can take some back with you.
S: I can get them over here, Mum, don't worry. I won't have much room in my bag.
M: We could get you some for breakfast.
S: No, really, porridge would be lovely and I'm trying not to eat too many meat-replacements because they can be a bit processed.
M: Well the vegan mozzarella does look like witchety grubs. Maybe I shouldn't have bought it?
S: No, no, it will be delicious I'm sure. Thank you for going to so much trouble. See you on Tuesday.
M: See you on Tuesday. Just let yourself in the front door. With a key. And don't forget to help yourself to food if you're hungry.
S: Are you going to be out?
M: No, I want to be there when you arrive.
S: OK, bye!
M: Bye Darling; top shelf of the fridge! OK, bye!

Garmin has Broken

It's been on the cards for a while after having to do an increasing number of master resets, but I think after several thousand kilometres together my Forerunner 110 has finally given up on me. The display went all wobbly and then....blank. It owes me nothing and if it can't be fixed then I will be replacing it with the same or similar model, but for now I am running naked. It feels very odd just to set off from the front door without having to wait for a satellite signal and I do miss the reassuring beep marking every kilometre that passes by.

I am treating it as an interesting experiment to run without continuous statistics and data. In triathlon and trail runs I run by feel, so I'm not always an absolute slave to the Garmin, but for training and road races I admit I do get transfixed by the numbers that appear on my display. In races I rely on it to stop me from going out too fast and in training it gives me a nudge if I start to get lazy. I have often been surprised by the discrepancy between my perceived effort and my actual effort.

This weekend I used a good old stopwatch to time my runs and I plotted the distances on Google maps when I arrived home. As I wasn't able to run at a specific pace my aim was just to run steady and concentrate on form and breathing. It was actually quite liberating and I fell into a cadence that felt comfortable and stayed there.

I've entered my first half marathon next week and my target time is a sub-1h40, which means running at 4.44 mins/k pace or better. What is really interesting is that when I calculated the time and distance for yesterday's run it came in at an average of 4.45 min/k. Today's was 4.50 min/k; running some of the way on a grassy track probably accounting for the difference. I'm surprised by the consistency and also by the speed -I knew I wasn't slacking but I didn't think I was almost at race pace. It has given me a lot of confidence for the big day and it has shown me that there is life without GPS. But I will be begging borrowing or stealing one in time for the race.

My Inaugural Run

And so it was that on 1st May 2012, in the half-light of dawn, instead of rummaging in the cupboard for a box of cereal for breakfast I found myself rummaging through the detritus that lurks at the bottom of my wardrobe looking for something suitable to put on my feet. It seems completely improbable now considering my growing sports kit fetish, but I didn't even actually own a pair of trainers. I settled on what could perhaps best be described as a 'deck shoe' that had the cushioning of a Jesus sandal, not to mention a three-centimetre gap between my big toe and the end of the shoe that caused a slight folding action when I walked.

Working upwards, I teamed them with regular cotton ankle socks (white for sportiness), the pyjama bottoms that I had slept in because they vaguely resembled tracksuit material, a long-sleeved T shirt (again, white for sportiness), a regular bra and a woolly cardigan because it looked a bit chilly outside. I downed 2 pints of water because I didn't want to get dehydrated and went flying out of the door -I'm going for a run! Yes, a run! I sprinted to the end of the drive, where completely asphyxiated, I had to stop and get my breath back. It was at this point that I realised I might have to slow down a little if I wanted my endurance to last more than 100 metres. I jogged when I could, walked when I couldn't and invented a little circuit of what I would later find out was all of 2 kilometres long.

Halfway round, magenta in the face and incredibly itchy, I removed the knitted cardigan and tied the arms really tightly around my chest in an attempt to reinforce my bra. The lower legs of my pyjama bottoms had got a bit soggy from dew and the extra weight of the water was creating an awful lot of drag on the flimsy drawstring at my waist so I had to use one hand to hold my trousers up. My socks had slid down my feet and were pooling in the gap between my toes and the end of the shoes. My bladder was rapidly filling up after the 2 pints of water and I was in danger of adding to the sogginess of my pyjama bottoms. However, despite the minor setbacks I arrived back at home feeling elated and I basked in the glory of my incredible sporting achievement as I rewarded myself with a post-run veggie sausage sandwich.

If this was going to become a habit though I would seriously have to invest in some proper kit.

Good For Age

I would have been blissfully unaware of it, but a friend happened to point out to me that my marathon time of 3h32 earlier this year qualified me for an almost guaranteed 'Good for Age' place at both the 2014 London and Boston Marathons, if I wished to apply for one. Now, I am aware of how incredibly difficult it can be to get a ballot place at these events so in light of that this is probably going to sound extremely ungracious, but instead of feeling pretty chuffed I just felt pretty old. I think I might actually find it mildly depressing to be considered 'Good for Age', like a wine that should be over the hill but is still somehow tasting all right. The 'for Age' addendum is the equivalent of an enormous 'but' and it really drags the 'Good' down with it. I would so much rather be 'Good' full stop.

Looking exceptionally 'Good' after 26.2 miles

And why stop at age? Surely everyone has their own 'but', so maybe organisers should offer a certain number of places for 'Good for Weight' perhaps or 'Good for a Mother of Six'. I almost feel bad that my only limiting factor is lack of youth.

I made the very easy decision not to apply for a place at either marathon, not out of chagrin, but out of concern for what I imagine to be a very low Portaloo to runner ratio at the start of these mass participation events. We aged runners, no matter how Good, have to worry about such things.