The final blog- MARATHON MADNESS

It's with hugely mixed emotions that I write this post. Relief mostly. But also pride, thankfulness, happiness and yet sadness too. Hopefully you'll be able to understand why as you read on.
It's going to be a long one I'm afraid as there's so much to fit in but this really is the final chapter in my marathon journey so, sit back, put your feet up (mine are- my knees hurt too much to be bent!) and enjoy.

The week before the marathon:

The days before the marathon seem like such a long time ago now. I remember them with fond memories for those were the days when I could still walk normally, sit down without wincing and bend my knees without a little cry of "oooohhhwww". But enough of that- you'll hear all about post marathon events later!
I spent last week at work on "long days" meaning 13 hour shifts operating on poorly people that needed to be parted from their appendixes and various other bowely bits and pieces. That meant no training but a lot of walking around the hospital feeling pretty tired and not eating or drinking much. Apparently not the best pre-marathon build up!
Nonetheless, Friday arrived and we set off for London and the Excel centre for pre-marathon registration. This is where you produce your photo ID to prove you've not paid someone else to run it for you (shame- that was that plan off the list) and are given your official number, electronic chip, goody bag of random free stuff (bag of rice, London pride beer, nutri-grain bar and sports gel- it's a bit like a warped Ready Steady Cook challenge. Lucozade and ale flavoured rice pudding anybody?) and generally walk around trying not to hyperventilate with anxiety. I spent much of it fighting back tears of sadness at people's reasons for running (including my own) and general emotion at the looming challenge. It suddenly all felt very real.
Here's some pics:

 

A giant trainer

Looking nervous

Encouragement board. I was typically too emotional to write anything.

We also visited the British Heart Foundation stand to say a cheery hello and pick up some supporter's t-shirts. They had a heart board for people's reasons for running. I cried here too.

 

Then we wondered round to a polaroid photo thingy. Katherine drew lots of "oohs and aahs" for being cute. Actually she was being tired, hungry and grumpy so then we headed off before there were more Elsey tears at the Excel.

I think that I really need to make a mention here of the incredible generosity from so many wonderful people that have donated to British Heart Foundation in support of this ridiculous marathon plan. I had a target in mind of raising £2500 which seemed really out of reach just a few weeks ago. At present, the official total I've raised is over £3000. This is AMAZING. Thank you so much for supporting me financially with this challenge. I think it's an incredible amount of money for you lot to have donated and I'm so thrilled to be passing it on to British Heart Foundation in memory of Mark and also in support of so many that live with heart disease, including Charlie and his family and friends. There really isn't much else to say other than I'm so humbled by your generous giving and so glad that I made it round and didn't let you down! Thank you.

Other pre-marathon preparation included eating more carbohydate than is humanly possible (I am sick of pasta), feeling sick (with nerves and possibly too much pasta. I even had to give my chocolate brownie to Katherine) and drinking plenty of water. On Saturday night I fretted about, couldn't sit still (I can only bear to sit still now!) and fiddled with my kit. Here it all is:

And so it was done. Trained (sort of), carb loaded, registered and ready as I'd ever be to run a marathon......

MARATHON!

Woke up at 06:15 having dreamt about the marathon all night. Immediately felt more nervous than spectators stood near Paula when she needs a wee and was overcome with anxiety nausea and panic. Forced some porridge down and posed for pre-marathon photos. Katherine helpfully announced "I run fast! Mummy runs slow." Little monkey. True though.... Here she is:

Check out her supporter t-shirt!

Then we set off for the start at Greenwich park. We've all seen the marathon coverage on the television but the sheer scale of the event really is breathtaking. It is an enormous set up with literally 37000 runners and thousands of support staff manning the water stations/ lucozade stations/ marshalling/ sorting out runner's bag/ setting up/ clearing up. It is actually quite overwhelming and I was grateful for my buddy Stu who was also running to keep me comapny amidst the crowds. It was a beautiful morning and thankfully not a cloud in sight so we could wait around in warm sunshine before it was time to line up for the start. Here's me in my bin bag keeping warm:

Trend-setter

The marathon is so massive that there are three starts. I was at the red start which is where all the "fun" (pahahaha- yeah right) runners are. It is then split into 9 zones based on people's predicted finish times. I was, of course, at the back in zone 9. It's impossible to see the start from zones 2 and back and it took something like 25 minutes just to get across the start line from the back.

So many people into the distance

And then we were off.

The first 8 miles went well. The sun was shining. The crowds were cheering. I was running (too slowly- lots of runners to battle through and not listening to my ipod to pace me) and actually enjoying it. I overtook two runners dressed as the jamaican bobsleigh team, complete with a wooden bobsleigh, a pot of ambrosia, a pot of marmite and two soldiers with a trojan horse, a giant telephone and Peppa pig. I also really needed to wee owing to the bottle of lucozade I'd drunk just before the start. Error number one! I tried to hold on but fearing that my pelvic floor wouldn't hold out and that I might inadvertedly do "A Paula" I decided to stop and queue for the loo. It took ages! I must have been waiting for nearly 20minutes looking at the stats on the website. This was really annoying as it felt hard to get going again, especially as I soon realised that all the fancy dress people had overtaken me whilst I was waiting for a portaloo.

Anyway, off I went again and carried on soaking up the atmosphere and feeling pretty pleased with myself. Little did I know what was to come! Round Cutty Sark was really good- lots of crowds cheering and lovely views. This was what running the marathon is all about- running with lots of other runners, feeling good, raising money for charity, remembering and celebrating a friend or family member whilst being cheered on by brilliant supporters. If only it had stayed that way.....

The next memorable moment was at mile 11 when I bumped into this lot:

Lyndsay, Katherine, Corinne, Jonathan (Step-Dad), Mum, Ruth (Mum-in-law)
Matt was taking the photo!

They had all been patiently waiting for over 2 hours to see me and I must have stopped for all of 10 seconds. Seeing them inevitably made me burst into tears. It really is such an emotional day!

During their wait they had seen the wheelchair race, the elite men and the elite women and even spotted my boss who runs marathons regularly (Who's best time is 2:23. Incredible). They also saw Stu who looked like he was having a great time! Here's a few pics:

Incredible wheelchair racers

Elite women

My boss zooming past- 966

Where are you Mummy?!

Ready for cheering

Stu going strong (but being beaten by Mr Tickle)

Matt then went on to mile 17 and the others went off for lunch and to play at a park. Very sensible. I quite fancied a spot of lunch too. However, I had a marathon to complete so on I plodded. Coming over Tower Bridge has to be one of the best moments of the day. It was still lovely and sunny, only 13 miles in and I was feeling pretty good. The crowd are amazing all the way round the course but particularly over the bridge. My friend Anneli was there to cheer me on but sadly I didn't see her. She apparently yelled my name though! The thing is, there are so many people cheering your name it's hard to know who shouted from where. It really is such an encouragement and boost. Utterly incredible to have so many strangers willing you on just because you've made the effort to attempt to run quite a long way.  There's also countless bands of musicians all the way round- steel bands, brass bands, drumming groups, rock bands and they really push you on. Especially the drummers. I reckon I'd have run a lot faster with them behind me all the way!

Things weren't going too badly until I hit about mile 17/18. At mile 18 I gave in and had a little walk, got my iphone out, checked the old facebook to read some of the messages from friends who, again, were so supportive and willing me on. Had a little cry (again) and popped my music on. I think this helped, sort of.

Saw Matt (and some more of our friends who'd dragged them and their two young daughters across the city just to give me a little cheer- lovely people!) again at mile 20. By mile 20 I was feeling pretty miserable. Everywhere hurt. I mean everywhere. Well, perhaps there was a small patch beside my right ear that was ok but pretty much everywhere else hurt. But not as much as it was going to.....

Here's me at mile 20:

Smiles for the cameras

Superwoman was pretty happy!

This is closer to how I really felt. Awful.

On my merry way again

From mile 22 it started to go badly wrong. The wind got up, the clouds drew in, it started to rain, the crowds thinned out and my knees decided they hated me. If you've read this blog before, you'll know that I've had a problem with my left ankle but never my knees. Well, let me set this record straight. Ankles, are a breeze. Knees, are mean to people they don't like and my knees had a serious falling out with me. With every step I tried run they just got more and more sore. I decided to power walk instead and a lovely onlooker shouted "Well done Lizzy, you're doing so well. You look really strong. Keep that powerwalk pace up until the end". I replied "I feel awful" and stomped off. Ha!

The last couple of miles are a complete blur. This is quite literal because by now it had started to absolutely pour down with torrential rain which was washing my hairspray into my eyes. Hairspray + rain + eyes = (blur + pain) x misery. Everyone had said that the last couple of miles fly past with the adrenaline and that the crowd carry you along. Not so if it's chucking it down, you can't see the sights of London (A. because of the dense rain, B. because hairspray really stings- did I already mention that?!) and the crowd decided to go home. Plus the fact that it was 5 and a half hours since the start means they were probably a bit tired and hungry by now. Can't blame them. Prince Harry had long gone (presumably back to his Nan's as it was only down the road). I attempted to run the last mile but I really have never known pain like it before and thought my legs might wobble away under me so walked it apart from the last 200 meters which I forced myself to jog. After all, it was my last ever run!

Post Marathon:

And then it was over. 26.2 miles completed. And did I feel elated? Thrilled? Overjoyed?

Nope.

I was cold, wet, couldn't see and had shooting pains in my arms with tingly fingers and legs that were more painful than I've ever known them. I cried when the nice lady put my medal round my neck (although that may have been the hairspray), collected my bag, shakily put my foil blanket around me and stumbled off in the direction of admirality arch to meet Matt who was thankfully armed with my waterproof jacket and a welcoming hug.

Andrew, another friend who ran/stumbled his way round yesterday, was also there and looking about as miserable as me. I took some solace in that!

Andrew and I quite literally hobbled off with Matt towards the bus stop. Then ensued a debacle with the bus driver. Unfortunately, Andrew and I had misread our marathon info and thought all travel on London transport was free for marathon runners. Turns out it's only free on the underground. Also turned out, that between the three of us we had exactly £1.23. The bus fare required was £2.30 each. Bummer. I genuinely thought we were going to have to get back off again and the thought of moving anywhere was enough to reduce me to yet more tears. Thankfully, a lovely lady, who we shall forever be indebted too, came to our rescue and paid for our bus tickets as a gesture towards our marathon efforts. What an angel. I have no idea what her name was but, kind lady with silver hair who gave us £3.50, you are truly wonderful- thank you.

Here's me on the bus:

Warm, dry, seated. Every reason to smile!

When we arrived back at the Salvation Army training college (where we'd been staying) we had the minor task of climbing off the bus, crossing the road, walking to the accomodation block and climbing two flights of stairs. I haven't laughed so much about being in so much pain ever before. It really was agony. Andrew and I limped our way along together like a pair of 90 year-olds that aren't fit enough for joint replacement surgery giggling like idiots. Definitely a case of laughing to not cry.

I'll zoom over the evening but it essentially involved a bath, clean clothes, a yummy dinner, a car journey home and a very stiff few steps to the front door and upstiars into bed.

This morning was time to inspect the injuries. I have bruising for no apparent reason over my calfs. I have knee joints that don't want to bend. I have feet that are really, really disgusting with the monster of all blisters. Really gross photo coming up (avert eyes if eating or of delicate disposition):

Ice packs for the knees of misery

MASSIVE blister. Ouch.

So that's it. It's all over. I've done it. I ran London Marathon.

This is some of what I wrote in my first ever blog:

Our best man and my husband's best ever friend died suddenly on February 25th this year. He was 38. Essentially, he died of a heart attack. At 38. And Mark was a fit, football crazy, golf mad, sport loving man who even worked for a sports organisation. We've been devastated by losing him.
It's wrong that young people die of heart disease. It's wrong that middle aged people die of heart disease. It's wrong that we don't understand enough about congenital heart conditions and premature onset of cardiovascular disease and so much more.

So......
I'm running the London Marathon in 2012 for British Heart Foundation in memory of the very wonderful Mark Versey.

You might think "Well that's lovely Lizzy, but what's the big deal? Loads of people run the London Marathon every year. 37, 000 of them to be precise."
Well, I can't run.

So this will be the blog of how a non-runner learns to run a marathon. Not because I enjoy running (I hate it) but because it seems appropriate that I do something that's a real challenge to celebrate the life of Mr Mark Versey and to raise vitally important funds for research into heart disease.

And that's exactly what I've done. Yesterday, after months of hideous training, I ran the London Marathon. To raise over £3000 for British Heart Foundation. To help little boys and girls with congenital heart defects, like Charlie. In memory and celebration of our friend Verz.

I am so, so grateful to you all for your support, cheers, encouragement, donations and prayers. I've needed them more than I imagined I would. And now it's over.

This was for you Mark.

Http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

I'm not feeling terribly chirpy tonight. Mainly because I'm distracted by three thoughts:

1. Will I still be crawling my way round London this time next week, in the fading light with the roads reopened and supporters all gone home?

2. How much pain will I be in this time next week?

3. Will I even finish it at all?!

Genuinely concerned about the above. But I'm determined. So, so determined to finish. Here's the reasons:

1. I don't want all those miles that I've dragged myself around to go to waste. My iPhone app, that I started using a few months ago and so doesn't include all my training, says I've run 150 miles and it's taken me a whopping 28 hours, 14 minutes and 31 seconds. I will never get that time back. Urgh.

2. I've not had aching legs for approximately 5 months to not finish this.

3. You lot are brilliant and have donated loads of money to my marathon fund already. (Although those of you that haven't prized open your rusty, cobwebbed purses need to get a move on!)

4. I won't be able to bear telling people that I didn't finish. Oh the shame!

5. If I don't finish, then the marathon will have beaten me. I really am not a good loser.

6. Charlie (as featured previously) has had the news that his surgery needs to be brought forward to this summer. He and his family needs BHF and their support.

7. For Verz. For his memory. In celebration of him. For his family. For his friends. For my husband who's lost his best friend.

So that's that. Better blooming well finish it hey?!

In other news, the ankle is improving loads and the foot pain has gone. This is excellent! The magical physio tape is indeed magical and resting it has helped. Thank you so much to all of you that have been concerned about it, prayed and been sympathetic.
This has meant that I've been able to go for a couple of little runs. 3 miles test run on Friday and a short 5 miles today. Obviously a fair way longer to go next Sunday.....

I've also really enjoyed cycling this week. Whizzed out for 90mins on Tuesday (which included a pit-stop at my slightly surprised friend's for water- thanks Claire!) and about an hour yesterday. I love it! I thought I hated cycling but it's brilliant! So much faster than running. So much easier than running. So much less painful than running (especially with those awful but yet fantastic padded shorts).
Here's some pics from yesterday's trip out to the Attenborough Nature Reserve:

Beautiful day, lovely church.

Attenborough

Visitor centre- more about that in a minute

Me on a bike!

I love biking!

I cycled over the the nature reserve, round it a bit, through some really fun muddy puddles (Emma- I promise to clean the bike before returning it), was mistaken for a bloke by a passer-by (I'll gloss over that point) and then met Matt and Katherine to feed the ducks. Whilst we were there, we thought we should support the good work done by the nature centre and show our appreciation for the tremendous duck care they provide by, erm, by eating cake! Haha! I can ALWAYS find an excuse for cake. Matt and I shared a slice of what was one of the best sweet treats I've ever had (and I've conducted very thorough and extensive research). Layers of chocolate cake, toffee cake, chocolately creamy stuff, nougaty type stuff (to use a technical term) all topped with yummy caramel and peanuts. So, so good. If you decide you, too, need to support the ducks, do it with a slice of that stuff. I think after I've finished supporting the British Heart Foundation that my charitable attentions will be turned towards the plight of wild birds and ducks and that it really is my heartfelt calling to consume vast quantities of cake in that visitor centre as my sacrifice to them. It's got to beat running!

This week I'm on long shifts at work from Monday until Thursday so won't have time to get out. Then on Friday it's off down to London village to get registered at the Excel centre, spot a few celebrity runners, say a cheery hello to the BHF team and probably cry lots! Many of you will know that I'm a really emotional, wet-eyed wally and well up at pretty much anything. I get teary every time someone sponsors me. I choke up when I think about the big day. I've snivelled my way round my training routes thinking about Verz. When Matt ran London, I wept my way around the Excel centre at all the inspirational messages and reasons for running. I'm going to be even worse this time! There's lots of people coming to cheer me on and I'm sure I'll blub every time I spot one of them. So, Mum, Jon, Ruth, Ray, Matt, K, Corinne, Lynz, Shawn, Vicki and Ali- apologies! I really appreciate you coming but won't be able to tell you that on the day!

So that's that. My training is officially done. It's not included as much running as I'd planned. It's featured more pain than I'd hoped. It's been colder and more miserable than I'd wanted. But it's done.
WUHOOOOOOOO!
Here's a pic of me looking pleased with myself after my last EVER training run:

I pledged to sponsor myself 50p for every mile that I trained. 150 miles later and I think I should be exempt from the money side of the marathon madness! But I reckon I can scrape it together so that's my contribution done.
If you haven't sponsored me yet, please, please do. It's for such a good cause and in the memory of a good man.
Thanks.
http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Verz enjoying life

Verz helping others to enjoy life

Verz was full of life

On yer bike!

Evening. How are you? Sitting comfortably with a guilt-free conscience? Or stuffed full of hot cross buns, roast dinners and more chocolate than Willy Wonka could dream of? Sadly I'm closer to the latter. This Easter business is bad for your clothes. It shrinks them. So does a lack of running.
It's now a full two weeks since I last ran and I'm getting panicky. I'm going to try the ankle out either tomorrow or Tuesday but given the amount of creaking and clunking that's coming from it, I'm not holding out much hope. Oh heck.
It was suggested that cycling is a good alternative to running when trying to maintain fitness but avoiding putting pressure on joints that are falling apart. I thought I'd better try to do something to stop me morphing into a large sofa again and therefore it seemed sensible to engage in my second most hated exercise.
I don't actually own a bike and neither does Matt after he lent his to a student and it promptly got pinched from uni. I was assured by people that riding a bike again after a long time not doing so is, well, like riding a bike. This presumably means that you don't forget how to ride a bike. I'd like to contest this point.
My friend and colleague very generously offered to lend me her bike for a couple of weeks. "Brilliant. That's great" was my reply. I was actually thinking "Uh oh. Not sure if can ride a bike. And I remember it being pretty hard work actually. Bottoms." But seeing as the lovely Emma was being so kind I arranged to pop over and pick it up. I arrived to find her hubby in his pj's, in the garage, pumping up the tyres of a very posh and professional looking bike. Ooh heck. He then proceeded to show me all sorts of fancy quick release systems and how to take the wheel on and off etc. All very technical. I'm sure my teenage bike that I dragged myself to and from piano lessons for which I had done no practice and underage and under-paid shifts at our local hotel had no such wheel-removing manoeuvres and only 3 gears. I think this fancy bike has 24! My Honda civic has 6 gears and I thought that was one too many. What am I meant to do with 24?!
Emma then enthusiastically showed me a pile of accessories. There's cycling accessories? Apparently padded shorts are the way forward and special gloves for something or other are essential. Now then, I have made a few mentions before of my bottom. If size is the aim of the game, then I am especially blessed in the rear-end department. When I was staying in Zambia, working at a hospital a few years ago (and probably a stone lighter), a man approached me and said entirely sincerely "Madam. You are so beautiful. You have a biiiig, biiiig bottom. It is like biiiig african bottom but on white lady. You are very beautiful indeed". I was a bit taken aback, muttered "erm....thanks" whilst looking for my friends who had presumably set this joke up, but no, he just liked big bottoms and I fitted the picture perfectly. Great. Bearing this in mind, I'm not sure I need any help in the bottom padding department.
I've posted a few rather unflattering photos on this blog but let's make one thing clear. There are to be no photos of me in massively padded cycling shorts in any form of public forum. Although if I reach the £2000 mark by the big day then I'll consider it so you lot can all have a good laugh. Get giving! Alternatively you can donate anyway and spare my embarrassment. Please?! http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Anyway, I donned said shorts and covered them up with some leggings and set off for my first bike ride in more than a decade. Before I went for a proper ride I had to check I could still ride a bike. I climbed on and wobbled off up and down the, thankfully, wide pavement of Aspley Lane much to the amusement of smirking strangers all having a good giggle at my wobbly, frantic peddling. Katherine thought it was especially funny and Matt looked genuinely concerned that I might fall off. Not worried that I might injure myself but rather that I might injure the expensive, swanky, wheel-releasing 24geared machine beneath me.
I managed to stay upright and got the courage up to go a for a little ride. There was no way I was going to risk life and limb on Nottingham's ring road and so stuck to cycle paths and pedestrian crossings with Emma's cycle helmet firmly strapped down with a L-plates tied to me(alright, the last bit is an exaggeration but the wide-eyed terror on my face was the equivalent). I headed to Wollaton park, cycled through it and came back home in a whistle-stop time of 40minutes. It usually takes me well over an hour to run that far. I LOVE CYCLING! Hills are still evil on the way up but on the way down they are fabulous. What's not to love about hurtling down a hill, slightly out of control towards 3 lanes of busy traffic?!

So thanks Emma. You're very kind and I've not broken it or me..... yet?!

In other news, I went to see a sports physio and experienced new levels of pain with a sports massage that was particularly bad on my dodgy leg. He seems to think ill be able to hobble round on the day and that his magic (placebo??) tape will make all the difference. I hope so!

If you haven't sponsored me yet, please do so. I've raised nearly £1000 so far but my aim is £2500 so there's a long way to go. It's spring, there's pretty flowers and cutesy lambs, give us a tenner whilst you're in a cheery, enthusiastic mood. Ta.

Http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

It's the final countdown...da dn da daaah, da dn da da daaaah

It's now less than three weeks until the big day. The end is in sight. No more running in 3 weeks time.

Mind you, haven't done ANY running in the past week either which is making me incredibly anxious. AAAGH! I can feel all that hard-earned fitness slipping away every single day that passes as each of my leg muscle cells breathes a sigh of relief and says to it's mate "Thank goodness that's over. She's come to her senses. Looking forward to making friends with Mr and Mrs Fat that have moved in next-door". My inner couch potato is emerging. The lazy lard-bottomed sloth that normally rules my attitude to exercise is making a bid for freedom in an attempt to reign once more.
This is because the left ankle of doom and misery is still playing up and misbehaving. In certain positions I get sharp, shooting pains that pierce through the joint and make me gasp. And then it'll be fine again. Weird. I've been to a specialist running shop, had my shoes inspected (all fine) and bought an ankle support so I guess I need to drag myself out on a test run tomorrow to see how it goes. I've also rung a sports injury specialist to make an appointment to see if he can wave his magic wand of marathon miracles, make it all better and suddenly I'll be able to run normally on it again. Here's hoping.

On a serious note, I should have done my last super-long run of 18-19 miles this weekend and I'm not sure a pretend race against my toddler on the prom this afternoon counts. She won. I'm in two minds as whether to risk forgetting this last long run or to put it off until next weekend which will be only two weeks before the big day. What if I make it worse? What if it takes me two weeks to recover the ankle again? What will it mean for the day if the furthest I've ever run is 10 miles less than the distance expected? What if? What if?! Panic, panic!!

Received an exciting but scary bit of post this week: all my pre-"race" (it's no race- it's a mission to complete without dying or less seriously, a leg dropping off!) information arrived. This included my running number.
I am 35646! I think there's about 37000 that enter. The event organisers must have heard about me and issued me with my approximate finishing place. Although, that would mean I'd finish ahead of a whopping 1354 people which, frankly, is ambitious even if you take out the man in the suit of armour, the man that runs with a fridge or whatever it is on his back and the crazy oversized fancy dressed nutters. People at work have been asking what time I'm aiming for. My response = "same calendar day". Nothing wrong with that I say. Although it would be nice to be finished before they re-open the roads again and the supporters have all gone home.

Also had some post from the BHF with lots of cheery news about arrangements for the day including a post-marathon celebration party with  food and a free massage 10 mins from the finish line. Oh hello. Free massage. Yes please. 10 minute walk from the finish line? Too far. Someone will have to carry me there. Perhaps you lot who are coming on the day can draw straws for who's job that will be. Mind you, St John's ambulance have plenty of stretchers. Maybe I can pre-book one?

Last week I asked for memories of Verz. I've decided to feature Lindsay's this week. She grew up knowing Verz. Here's what she has to say about Mark:

"I totally blame him for my complete obsession with Friends and Phase 10! No matter how many times I've seen an episode before, I still have to watch it and now it make me remember all the times we crowed into his lounge to watch the new series"
This is true. Whenever a new Friends boxset was released on DVD we all (literally 12 or more of us) used to cram into Mark's little front room and watch the whole lot in a single sitting, often well past midnight much to the dismay of my mother ("You're always at Versey's house. You treat this place like a hotel. Blah blah blah").

"Playing Phase 10, long into the night. That lounge was the place of many happy times- pizza, chinese, movies, coca cola, play-station golf, match of the day. Whatever we did or were eating, it was always such a happy time with friends"
Verz was the worst and best of hosts. The worst in that he had nothing in to drink (unless you liked full-fat Coca cola- always the real thing) and the best in that his house was so full of friendship and happiness.


"Going to Wimbledon was a great memory and so funny when we went to buy him strawberries and ice cream and returned with strawberries and melted mess"
I'd forgotten about this. Linds, Verz and I (think we ditched Matt as he was working!) decided to go to Wimbledon on a whim. We stayed over and got up in the middle of the night to go and queue for tickets. We got seats on centre court and had the best day. Verz wasn't only Matt's friend. He was mine too. And I miss him.

Lindz finished with this. Spot on.
"But the thing I love about him most and will always be grateful for, is his caring and generous personality. He was always there for me and would always have the right thing to say. nothing was ever too much and he just always, always made me smile"

Despite it all, I'm so glad I'm doing this marathon for his memory. He deserves it.

Please sponsor me http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Anyone got a spare left foot?

Ouchy ouch ouch. Running is bad for your health. And bad for your ankles and feet. And especially the left ankle and foot. Ouch.
You might remember that I twisted my ankle a while ago (the whole run a mile, slip over, twist ankle, hobble back to car, no car key, limp back to site of injury, still no key, stumble back to car and ring for help saga) and it's still not right. I thought it was better but every time I do a long run, my foot and ankle are really sore. Bottoms. (Other less polite swear words are available- feel free to insert your own).
Yesterday I ran 16 miles which is further than I ever thought I could. Sadly it's still a whopping 10miles off what I have to run in 4 weeks time (FOUR WEEKS!!! Cue slightly maniacal laughter bordering on hysteria). It involved more listening to the dulcet Wolverhampton tones of Caitlin Moran discussing rude stuff (boobies and the power of a good bra this time) and an awful lot of the canal, River Trent, Attenborough Nature Reserve and the visitor centre (emergency wee stop!). It also involved a lot of pain. My left foot arch and ankle started hurting at about mile 8 and haven't stopped aching since despite ibuprofen and a lot of whinging. I've also managed to start a new trend in bubblewrap-esque feet with my increasing blister burden. I was tempted to take a photo of the grossness for the blog but Matt suggested I should use it as a threat for if I don't receive enough sponsors. So, if you want to avoid having to view my revolting feet with lumpy, swollen blobs, pressure point hard skin and a little toenail that's threatening to leave me, you'd better sponsor me!
http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Something that I hadn't anticipated about long distance running is the way it allows your mind to wander and think. Dangerous. Now you might expect, given that I'm allegedly a reasonably well educated woman who holds down a sensible job as a trainee surgeon and engages her brain in additional musical extra-curricular activities, that all this time to think would have produced something of worth, of significance, of depth.
Nope.
All I could think about yesterday was other modes of transport that I could see passing me by that beat running. The following transportation modes were noted:
- motorbility scooter (I've often thought of hijacking passing electric wheelchairs whilst out running)
- bike (although does require physical effort so a tough call)
- narrow boat (complete with kitchen and therefore, cake)
- horse (looks romantic but carries risk of falling and trampling to death- less favourable)
- rowing boat (appealing but suspect harder than it looks)
- canoe (saw 7 of these with young teenagers having a right laugh- fancied a go)
- scooter (do they do adult size ones?)
- large dog (not sure it was large enough to carry my big bottom but I was getting desperate)
- mythically large, flying swan (admittedly didn't actually see one of these but the thought crossed my mind)
- pushchair (yeah they're made for toddlers but I was in so much pain my gait resembled a toddler learning to run)

So you see, too much time to think is a bad thing. And when I try to focus on why I'm doing this marathon, I get all emotional and start to cry. Useless.

Tuesday was a day of training horror with the (not unexpected in retrospect) realisation that curry is a bad thing to eat the night before a long run. I'm not sure I need to expand on this point any further. Lesson learnt. (If you are clueless as to what I'm writing about, google "Joggers trots". It's not an equestrian event.)

Thursday saw me have a rubbish run of less than 4 miles and it felt like such hard work. I wanted to walk all the time and found it so hard to keep motivated. I felt exhausted, achy and fed up. Still am really! Came home and burst into tears about all this stupid running and really hit a low point. I just felt like it was too big a mountain to climb and I was stupid for even thinking I could do it. I also felt (and still do actually) that I'm going to let you all down. So many of you have been so generous already and so supportive and I'm so, so worried that I'm going to bottle it on the day and walk half of it and finish in a really rubbish time. I know I'm not the speediest runner but this could realistically take me 7 hours if I walk a large proportion. So, I'm going to apologise now if I let you down. I really will be so upset and disappointed in myself.

Which brings me on to my next point.

I expect that there's a significant proportion of you who don't choose to go in for religion in any form or maybe have a faith other than Christianity so if you're this category, then please don't be offended by this but maybe you can just continue to support me with positive thoughts and the knowledge of that will be a comfort to me.

Equally, I know that many of you who read this are (rightfully in my opinion!) big believers in prayer and God honouring and answering those heartfelt prayers. I'm struggling with believing I can do this marathon. It hurts. It's hard. I'd really rather not drag myself out for any more long runs or even any short ones. Whilst I was running on Saturday, I was thinking about God and what he must make of it all. Whether he's bothered? Whether it matters? In comparison to all the horrors, atrocities and hurt in our world, my lame efforts to run a marathon because our mate died and the fact my foot is sore is so trivial. So meaningless and minor. But, we talk in church about our "Father God" and as a parent, I want Katherine to grow up always being able to share her troubles and concerns with me, no matter how small or insignificant. I think God feels the same way. Yes, he sees the bigger picture and can put everything in context, but he also cares about our personal hurts and struggles. Part of being a Christian is upholding others in prayer. Another aspect of being a part of a church is being humble enough to ask for help when it's needed and not struggling on alone- because we don't have to. So, I'm going to add myself to my prayer list for a while and I'd be grateful if you could add me to yours. Pray for my foot- that it recovers quickly and doesn't give up on me before or during the marathon. Pray that I have the motivation to carry on training over the next 4 weeks. Pray that I might even start to enjoy it (yes, I believe in a God of miracles!!!). Next Saturday is due to include a 18-19 mile effort which will take me at least 3.5 hours and I'm sure I'll need your prayers then. If you don't normally pray or think it's all barmy, then just humour me and give it a go. You've not got anything to lose.
Verz would have agreed.

Next time: Memories of Mark - please email me at elizabeth.elsey@nhs.net or inbox me on facebook with your favourite Verz memories and I'll put them together for us all to smile at. Deadline= Sunday 6pm!

A LOT of cakes and the BeeGees

This is my friend Lyndsay:

Lynz is really clever at making yummy and very pretty cakes. It's the main reason we're friends to be honest. All of my friends should be made to pass a cake baking test along with a personality analysis that indicates generosity with the cakes that they make.
But Lyndsay is a particularly special friend. She's one of those that you can rely on, whatever the circumstance. Lyndsay has done the following things in the fairly short 4 years that I've known her:

• organised a baby shower for me
• celebrated my 30th birthday with a surprise little do
• looked after my naughty daughter more times than I can count on a Sunday during Church
• bought me generous birthday and Christmas presents, all of which have been perfect
• given me advice about new babies when I was struggling
• cried with me when I've been sad
• laughed with me when I've been happy
• prayed with and for me
• baked more scones than you can imagine for a Strawberry tea
• helped me with various community events which I'd never have managed without her
• guessed I was pregnant before anyone else

There is a huge amount more I could list but then you'd all want her as your mate too and frankly, I'm not willing to share the cakes.

Anyway, Lynz announced that her contribution to my marathon fundraising was to make some cakes and sell them for Mother's day. Aaah, isn't that nice? Sell a few buns to a couple of mates and donate a tenner to the pot. I bet that's what you're thinking. Well, not Lynz. She had mass production in her head and before you could cream your sugar and butter together, Lynz had taken 25 orders for boxes of 6 cupcakes, all to be ready for Mother's day weekend. That's 150 cupcakes!!! Did I mention that Lyndsay has a gorgeous but enthusiastically lively toddler and an absolutely beautiful 6 month old at home to look after? She is practically superwoman.

Here's some of the finished cakes:

Yum yum yum. I bought a box of 6 for my mother-in-law and helped her by eating them. What a kind daughter-in-law I am.

Lyndsay has managed to raise £250 as a result of her baking marathon for my mad marathon. She is quite literally brilliant.

So if you know Lynz, give her a hug and if you're feeling cheeky, a sloppy kiss. Tell her she's fabulous and incredibly generous. And then try hard not to cry with the general emotion of it all. That's my plan anyway.

I'm sure you can't have missed the distressing footballing news from the weekend. Fabrice Muamba collapsed during a football match on Saturday after suffering a cardiac arrest.
Sudden cardiac arrests are fatal in more than 95% of cases. The key to survival is very early cardio-pulmonary resuscitation and defibrillation (if appropriate). The longer the brain is without oxygen as a result of the cardiac arrest, the more irreversible brain damage occurs. Sadly, brain death is largely responsible for the mortality of those hearts which do start to beat normally again in these sudden cardiac arrest cases.
Muamba was fortunate to have paramedics on hand immediately and received early defibrillation on pitch. Thankfully, the latest press release is that he's doing remarkably well and has woken up and been able to communicate with his relatives. His long journey to recovery is hopefully underway.

Many people don't feel able to perform CPR in the community and this is a tragedy for so many people that are taken so seriously and suddenly ill away from immediate medical help. Chest compressions done immediately really can save lives. The British Heart Foundation has recently launched a publicity campaign about the importance of chest compressions. Here's their video advert:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=ILxjxfB4zNk

Who'd have thought that The BeeGees would ever be so useful?! It really is that easy.
Cardiac arrests do happen and they do kill.... unless effective resuscitation is given quickly. You can do it. Make sure you do.
You can also check out the website for more information and training:
www.bhf.org.uk/handsonly


So: in memory of Mark, to raise money for research into heart disease; in celebration of Charlie and to raise money for the vital support BHF nurses give; for training in resuscitation to prevent unnecessary deaths- please donate to:
http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Or bake 150 cakes and sell them to your mates. Whatever's easiest.

Thanks.

A half feels like a long way from a whole.

March 11th 2012. The day I ran my first ever proper race.

I say proper because I'm not sure sack race at Colneis Junior school counts. Although, I was pretty good at a bit of jumping within a hessian sack along a school field. Maybe someone should attempt a sack-race style London Marathon. They'd definitely get a chat with Sue Barker for that.

I digress. Turned up at Retford Rugby Club today full of porridge and butterflies this morning and was instantly put into panic mode by all the terribly serious professional runners sporting various running club tops. We had a good giggle at the man running for a team from Penistone who was stood in front of a post that blocked out the "tone". There were several mad mavericks warming up by running around the rugby ground. "What are you doing??! You're wasting precious energy and muscle strength you twits!!" was what I wanted to shout at them. Instead, I stood in the queue for the portaloos and prayed for toilet roll.

We collected our numbers and sat in the car looking at them for a while. I wanted to stay in the car but my friend said it'd be cheating.



Jenny arrived and we thought it was time for the essential pre-race warm up, not of jogging or stretches but posing for photos:

Me and Ali. Note the sun and no clouds. Hot!

We three half- marathoners

After much dithering about pinning numbers on straight, deciding between water and lucozade and working out which pockets we were sticking keys and iphones into, we set off for the start line.

The start line as viewed from the back. I know my place.

We decided that all these very serious runners were likely to be significantly quicker than us so kept to the back of the crowd. I spotted a girl wearing arm socks. Honestly. It was that kind of serious. I suddenly felt like I'd missed a trick by not wearing my BHF vest as that would have marked me out as a charity runner who's a bit useless. I think I perhaps should have put a sign on my back saying "Will be slow, please feel free to overtake" but seeing as I was the 19th slowest runner there (officially), a sign on my back seems a little surplus to requirement.

The Retford half marathon was described on Runner's world website as "undulating" and several runners on the forum had commented that it was mostly flat with "one or two minor uphill stretches". Lies. All lies. Admittedly the first 6-7 miles were flat-ish but then it got, well, not hilly as that would suggest some downhill stretches but mostly uphill for the next 4 miles. Evil.

At mile 11, a friendly water station marshall said that it was all downhill from that point. "Hallelujah" I thought. Turns out he lied too. Downhill for a mile before another hill right before the end. I hate hills. I really, really hate hills.

I eventually rocked in past the finish line at 2:27 accompanied by a very few cheers and supporters seeing as most people had already finished and gone home. The winners and medals had been presented, the marshalls were looking bored and yet I was just collapsing over the line. Somebody did ambitiously shout "Well done, you're looking really strong. Great strong, fast finish". Lying must be pandemic in Retford! Mind you, the slowest runner eventually made it back in 3:15 so I was significantly faster than last place. That's always something to be proud of!

Here's me approaching the end. Note the lack of supporters!

So that was my first ever race. I came 423rd! Out of 442 runners. Apparently there's no medal for finishing 423rd. There should be. And it should say "Good try (slowcoach)" on it. It was very hot, bright sunshine, no shade and virtually no supporters along the way. No headphones were allowed so I found it hard psychologically as there was very little to distract me from the torture. A tough last 75 minutes.

I did get a consolatory bottle of water and a t-shirt which I have worn with pride all day (before it gets consigned to the decorating or gardening clothes drawer).

And now it seems that the big day is looming fast. It's 6 weeks to go and frankly, I'm terrified. I'm really not sure I could have done today twice. I'm really hoping that the lack of London hills and the huge amount of cheering will help inspire me. Also the thought that I'll never have to run again is a pretty strong incentive. I really am never running again. Never. Ever.

In other news (literally), I featured in Felixstowe's local paper thanks to the mother who is on first name terms with the reporter. A touch embarrassing but good to have a bit of publicity for my (meagre) efforts and to remind people why I'm running. Here's a blurry photo of the article:

Please feel free to sponsor this madness at http://uk.virginmoneygiving/longrunlizzy

Thanks!