It has been a rollercoaster weekend of running emotions.
The weekend started off on the (steep) downward bit of the rollercoaster when I saw this on the news:
This is annoying to have any result declared void, especially one for where you hadn't been doped, where you paid £46 to enter the race where you did it, and especially for one which is your personal best time. Devastated doesn't even come close. I was completely inconsolable for all of Friday evening, and had a fitfull night's sleep as in my mind I ran those 380 darned meters over and over, being chased by a giant clock, tick-tick-ticking away. By the time I woke up on Saturday morning, I had got things slightly more back in perspective. In the grand scale of the world, going back to my previous PB of 3 minutes slower wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. I spent the day instead still feeling mildly annoyed by it, but was able to think coherently and to carry out everyday tasks again.
I woke this morning (Sunday), at 6.30 am ready for the Blackpool Marathon. I've always liked this one. I did my first ever marathon on this bit of coast, and have done several more races there since. I always enjoy running around Blackpool early on a Sunday morning. It has a sort of jaded charm about it. First thing there are a few people drifting about holding pints from the night before, usually missing a shoe or some other item of clothing. Then a bit later people start to get up, and stag and hen parties are leaving with their suitcases packed and carrying all the parts of the outfits that don't fit in the suitcase, like wedding veils, and cowboy hats, and they shout things at you, which is all taken in the spirit of Blackpool. Then later on all the shops and arcades start to open and the tattoo parlous too ("Names from £10!" - not sure that tattoos are really something you should be getting on discount) and then the fish and chip shops open and wafts of fried food starts drifting through the air (around the time I start to get hungry). People can be very rude about Blackpool, but I genuinely like it there. Although compared to the other big city marathons it's quite small, and quite spread out, it always has fantastic support, both from people who've come to support the runners, and from random people out having a day in Blackpool, everyone is very friendly and gets involved; it's really a lot of fun. Plus, there's loads to look at, and for a good few miles there's loads of music and going's on as you run along the main strip. And then of course there's the sea to look at for the whole 26.2 miles, which I could just stare at all day. Plus, my family always come along, and it's always great fun to have them there and be looking out for them - thanks Lomax's!
I haven't done a marathon in 5 months, with all this ultra training and what not. I was very anxious before it, and my stomach felt like a washing machine. I wasn't at all sure I would be able to do what is a normal time for me anymore, as all my runs over the last few months have been much longer, but much slower than I'm used to, and I worried I had lost some sharpness from my running. Still, I resolved to go out and try my best.
The race went much better than I expected. I started off far too fast, which is a habit that I used to stick to religiously on my first few marathons, and it always ended badly, but I haven't done it for so long that I actually quite enjoyed it. I rescued myself about half way (I was trying to make myself feel bad, so I could practice on how to deal with it, in case (or, probably, when) it happens on The 100). I took a couple of pain killers, had a 1/2 of a popular brand of a raw fruit and nut bar, and grabbed a bottle of water from the next aid station and sipped it slowly. After doing all these LDWA events where there is a checkpoint at least every 6 miles, with a table piled high with a vast array of all cakes and other dense sources of energy, it was quite a shock only to have water, I can tell you. Never-the-less my plan worked, and after a couple of miles focusing on only the next step as my foot hit the floor, by 15 miles I felt back to life and settled back into my pace. I kept it up until about 5 km from the end where my legs really started to get a wobble on, but I kept ploughing doggedly forward, and soon enough the finish came into sight, and I was taken aback and deliriously happy to have set a new PB! And this is where it gets complicated. I didn't actually beat my Manchester time, but as this time is void now (massive boo), my previous PB was from the London Marathon in 2012 where I did 3:39:31. Today, I finished in 3:38:18 - hurrah hurrah! And finsihed 9th lady, and 3rd in my category. Although I'm pleased with this, another thing I've noticed about times and PB's and the like, is that absolutely no one other than me finds this even remotely interesting, so this is another reason to forget all about the Manchester palava, and focus only on the future.
Some photos from today (thanks Mum!):
I haven't done a marathon in 5 months, with all this ultra training and what not. I was very anxious before it, and my stomach felt like a washing machine. I wasn't at all sure I would be able to do what is a normal time for me anymore, as all my runs over the last few months have been much longer, but much slower than I'm used to, and I worried I had lost some sharpness from my running. Still, I resolved to go out and try my best.
The race went much better than I expected. I started off far too fast, which is a habit that I used to stick to religiously on my first few marathons, and it always ended badly, but I haven't done it for so long that I actually quite enjoyed it. I rescued myself about half way (I was trying to make myself feel bad, so I could practice on how to deal with it, in case (or, probably, when) it happens on The 100). I took a couple of pain killers, had a 1/2 of a popular brand of a raw fruit and nut bar, and grabbed a bottle of water from the next aid station and sipped it slowly. After doing all these LDWA events where there is a checkpoint at least every 6 miles, with a table piled high with a vast array of all cakes and other dense sources of energy, it was quite a shock only to have water, I can tell you. Never-the-less my plan worked, and after a couple of miles focusing on only the next step as my foot hit the floor, by 15 miles I felt back to life and settled back into my pace. I kept it up until about 5 km from the end where my legs really started to get a wobble on, but I kept ploughing doggedly forward, and soon enough the finish came into sight, and I was taken aback and deliriously happy to have set a new PB! And this is where it gets complicated. I didn't actually beat my Manchester time, but as this time is void now (massive boo), my previous PB was from the London Marathon in 2012 where I did 3:39:31. Today, I finished in 3:38:18 - hurrah hurrah! And finsihed 9th lady, and 3rd in my category. Although I'm pleased with this, another thing I've noticed about times and PB's and the like, is that absolutely no one other than me finds this even remotely interesting, so this is another reason to forget all about the Manchester palava, and focus only on the future.
Some photos from today (thanks Mum!):
Cold waiting for the start:
But warmed up with the family!
Ready for the start:
1 mile... 2..... run a few.... 26... the end!
Bling: 
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