Marathon Day is a difficult day, but today is a day to celebrate

Last weekend, I did the first of a few back-to-back long runs that I've got lined up - this is good for ultra training, because you run a long way but by having a bit of a break over the night, it reduces the risk of injury, plus it gets you used to (in theory) getting up and running while you're tired, which is a must on a big long ultra.

So on Saturday, we set off bright and early (really just early, but I was still optimistic at this point), for The Chilterns, which was the setting of a really awful run I did a few weeks ago, so I was already trying to quell a feeling of dread that today was going to be just as bad. It turned out not to be though. It didn't snow for a start, and we had a new map, so we didn't get lost and end up running around in a circles in a forest in the dark (which believe it or not, is not only possible less than a mile from the M40, but is a genuinely a terrifying thing to happen, should you find yourself in that situation). These are all good things. We even knocked off 1.5 hours off from last time (mostly down to the lack of the aforementioned dark forest incident), and that included a half an hour stop in a pub. 

There were flowers...

 

And hills....

And even Storm Doris couldn't get in the way...

I was feeling quite pleased with myself.

Which, as we all know, doesn't last for long.

The next day, Sunday, was the 26th February.....26.2.......Marathon Day!

Buoyed by my successful facing of fears yesterday, I was ready for anything. Or, as it turned out, anything other than the Marathon Day Marathon. 13 laps of staring some of my old demons straight in the face, for a full 4:24 hours, which on reflection, is a rubbish way to spend a Sunday, especially having paid for it.

I had planned to run at an easy pace to start with, and just relax and see how it went. I told Andrew to leave me, which sounds more dramatic than I meant, but he was kind, and said we would run together, as he was 'just training with a pack today so didn't mind going slowly' (excuse me?). Anyway, due to my fault of basically not being good at being more forceful in communicating my wishes, our paces were't quite aligned, and we spent the first half of the race being slightly apart with Andrew running ahead and me trying to catch up, and him slowing down, and then speeding up, and me trying to catch up. Eventually, Andrew went ahead, at which point I felt totally *@?$ at being rubbish at not being good enough, plus my legs were a bit tired from going faster than I wanted to to start with, and all at once all of the fears that used to haunt me when I was younger all came right back, conveniently right at the same time that I reached the corner of the track that turned square on into the oncoming wind, which knocked me fair sideways. All my fears of being left behind and realising I wasn't good at running just like I wasn't good at any other sport, that everyone was better than me, that I was no good, all came flooding back, and I found it hard to breath and keep my head from spinning.

It was quite a shock to be honest, I wasn't expecting to spend time with these thoughts; that hasn't happened in a long time. I just tried to keep moving forwards, and in a couple of minutes, the track had turned slightly out of the wind, and things seemed to calm down a bit, both in the air and in my head.

I carried on a while longer, and just tried not to think about things too much, and just run round in circles, which basically was all that I had to do today after all, and I got back into more of my own rhythm. Then as I was finishing my lap 9, the winner, who won in 2:57, overtook me and finished just as I was crossing the line, and everyone was cheering him and saying how amazing he was and clapping him on the back, as I got my card stamped, and carried on up the hill for another 4 laps, because I wasn't amazing, because I hadn't finished yet, and I still had another eight (eight) miles to go. Then, as I was finishing my next lap, the man who came second did exactly the same thing as the first man. And all the negative thoughts came back, and I won't lie, there was a moment, a really long moment, where I wanted to throw in the towel there and then. Perhaps it was just out habit (I was on lap 10 by now after all), or perhaps because I didn't have a towel to hand that I could throw, but I took back my little card, and now with just (ha!) three laps to go, carried on up the hill again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

It wasn't my finest moment, and I was annoyed with myself for letting thoughts, which really I know aren't true, get the better of me. But I feel a bit stronger now, knowing that even feeling totally rock bottom mentally, and pretty pants physically too, that I still managed to keep going and ran, albeit slower than liked, all the way. And now I have a huge medal to remind me of that forever. And the medal even has a bottle opener incorporated into it, so even if I might need a drink to get over the memories brought back by looking at the medal, at least I will be able to open it.

Then a few days later, this arrived (which just arriving in itself was exciting, as I never get post)....

A Marathon Day Survival Kit! What a present!!! I was made up and totally touched! I love it so much, that I don't want to use it.....although..... OK, yes, I can't wait to use it, it's ace! Thanks Mum and Dad.

And, yesterday, my Mum finished her radiotherapy, and is all better. So today is a day to celebrate all the good things that abound, and for good thoughts to be thought, and for a spring in our steps.

Happy weekend all!