Bupa Great South Run: done!

So Sunday was the big day. The day I'd been working towards for the past few months, until, that is, I decided I may as well have a go at doing a marathon, upon which it became a practise race. Last week was tough; I struggle to eat carbs 3 times a day, and by carbs I mean proper carbs like brown rice and pasta, not crisps (which are way more fun!). Last week saw me having 3 healthy portions of carbs a day, with snacks of bananas and apples where necessary. I was tapering, and my legs appreciate a good week's rest before an event, so I kept the training to a minimum. And let me say, I was miserable. Increased carbs, decreased exercise and the growing nerves of participating in my first proper race messed with my head a bit. I relied heavily on support from Larry and some wise friends to keep me going on the right track. But tapering was tough. I had so much building energy in my body as my glycogen stores built up and my activity levels decreased, that it was almost too much at times.

This certainly applied to me last week!

But when the weekend came I was glad I'd prepared well. Travelling down to my parents in Surrey on the Saturday afternoon I was awash with nerves, but by the time bedtime came around, I was ready. My mum made me a carb-heavy dinner, although I think she may have overestimated how much food I could consume because I certainly couldn't eat more than half of it. But I was really touched at the effort she'd gone to to make sure I was well-equipped for the following day. And was I ever glad that the clocks went back that night because the extra hour in bed meant that Larry and I didn't have to get up quite so early the following morning! By 6.30 am we were on the road on our way to Portsmouth!
                                                   

It was really strange arriving at the race site. There were so many people in running gear, some looking cool and collected and clearly very experienced, and others like me clearly there for the first time not quite certain about what to do. The television cameras were flying overhead in helicopters, all the charities were set up in tents in the charity village, there was a big massage tent, and the loos, oh the loos! Row upon row of portaloos, each of them as smelly as the next, were found all round the area. Queues varied from non-existent to long as runners were desperate to squeeze out those last drops before they had to start the race. I think I went about 3 times in the hour before my race: you never can tell if those drops might make all the difference later!

Run Muumy Run!

I managed to meet up with some of the Run Mummy Run ladies pre race which was great, each of us recognising each other by our zany compression socks. These ladies are brilliant, I've learnt so much about running from them and they are always there with a supportive word or to share in the joy of a good run. It was so nice to know we were all scattered throughout the 25,000 runners, so you didn't have to look far to see a "friend", even if we hadn't previously met. That also applied to the Mind runners too, we were united by a common cause, which evoked friendship despite being strangers.

As we got ready for our wave to start we could see the tv footage of the elite runners as they began their race, then before long we were being moved forwards until suddenly the march picked up into a run and we were off! Immediately I was aware of two major problems, the first being that I really hadn't needed the base layer under my Mind vest and was in danger of overheating, and second that I was at the front of the white wave with a heck of a lot of runners behind me and I had to keep going. This wouldn't have been an issue, had the starting pace not been so fast. I usually settle at 10 minute miles. The first 2 miles I ran that day took 16 minutes. Add that to overheating and I had a major issue. I managed to get to the side and stop for a minute, but my heart rate was way too high and I ended up being sick right near where the marines stood. I felt faint, the floor was rocking and my vision was filled with black dots. Some people asked me if I wanted them to call St Johns to see to me but I refused. Call me stubborn but I had a lot of people backing me and I did not want to pull out so early. Somehow I got through the next 2 miles and was thrilled to see Larry at the side of the road cheering me on. I ran over and ripped both my tops off which gave the other spectators a bit of an eyeful! Putting the Mind vest back on I felt so much cooler, and with that I went on. At about 5 miles I decided I hated running, I would never run again and berated myself for even thinking I could do a race like the Great South Run, let alone the London Marathon! Mile by mile I plodded on, seeing Larry every couple of miles and my mother-in-law with her sister and friend a couple of times. I have to say, the crowd were phenomenal. Sometimes when I broke down to a walk they'd shout "come on Jenny, not far now", then cheer when I started running again. Children held out their hands to be high fived, and screeched with delight when I obliged them. It was kind of like being a celebrity in the most hellish situation ever. At 6.5 miles I ran through the shower which was heavenly, and cooled me down brilliantly. It all adds to the race experience!! As I got to the final couple of miles my legs were tired but my mind was strong, and I powered through to a finishing time of 1:54 hours.

In the immediate aftermath of the race I was totally monged out. I moved through the finishers enclosure absolutely exhausted, handed my chip back and received my medal and t shirt, then figured I'd just let Larry find me rather then use up precious energy looking for him. I was torn between being thrilled and proud that I'd completed the race, whilst berating myself at not having done it faster. I was angry at my body for letting me down when I knew I could run it quicker than that, but then I don't usually have to go through days of extreme race nerves and broken sleep before a run. I still don't really know how I feel. When I went and said hello at the Mind tent they were very supportive, and I know that several people were taken away by ambulance and whole lot of other people didn't finish. But would I ever be truly happy with my time or would I always want it to be quicker? Is this a part of my personality? With my anorexia I always wanted to get the numbers smaller, always to weigh less, to eat less. With exams I never celebrate a pass but instead torture myself for not scoring highly enough. If I'd run the GSR in 1:40 would I be wanting it to be closer to 1:30? Will I ever be happy with myself when I am such a perfectionist, or will I always be striving for the impossible?

The day after the race I woke up feeling like I'd been run over by a tractor, my legs were wrecked. And on studying the data from my Garmin I actually ran my most consistent run yet. I've had lots of talks with my shiny new PT Tim, who will be assessing my running style and hopefully making me stronger and more efficient. I've been out running hill repeats already, and am determined to be the best that I can be. I'm excited to be embarking on marathon training, and I've entered the 2015 Great South Run! Me and that race have unfinished business!