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!