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!

More than half way there..... just!

I RAN 14 MILES YESTERDAY!!!!!

Yes. You are not reading things. The useless runner who is truly terrible at moving faster than a stroll managed to drag herself no less than 14 MILES! Without walking! Well, mostly without walking anyway- 4 minutes out of a total of 2 hours and 35 minutes doesn't count.

Admittedly, this 14 miles was planned to perfection to avoid any form of incline at all but still. Hills are evil and exist purely to depress runners with their thigh-burning terror and should not feature in my life.

I've talked before about mental strength and knowing that I lack even mental mediocrity (on a diet but cake in the room = cake in the room for not very long) I had to find a different strategy.
Distraction.
And so I downloaded an audio book to listen to. I chose Caitlin Moran's "How to be a woman". Oh my word. It's a teeny weeny bit rude. In fact, it's really rude. Lots of naughty swear words (Mum- I didn't understand them, honest) and a considerable amount of time devoted to the dilemmas of alternative names for, well, ahem, erm, lady's, errrr, front bottoms. Paaah-haaa-haaa!

So picture this: me, clad in unflattering lycra with large bottom fully outlined in tight black running leggings- quite awful, red-faced and moderately sweaty, trotting along beside the canal, hopping over fisherman's rods (not a euphemism- it's not that type of canal.....I hope) giggling out-loud to my iphone about foofoos, po's and, my personal favourite, Aunty Susans!!! (I know you were wondering.....)
I did get a few funny looks but I didn't care- I was running and approaching 10 miles without feeling like I was dying.

When I got to 13.5 miles I was so delighted with myself that I felt like stopping every passer-by to tell them. Romantic couples enjoying a picturesque stroll, dog-walkers, their dogs, teenagers off for a crafty illicit fag, fishermen, other runners: no one was safe from nearly being accosted by me proclaiming "I've blooming-well run nearly 14 miles! I am brilliant!!!". I couldn't contain myself when a considerate fisherman moved his rather large rod off the path (why does that sound a bit rude? Think the book has given me immature silliness) and said "Thanks, Can't hurdle it, I've run 14 miles you know". He didn't look impressed. He just laughed. Perhaps he didn't believe me. Maybe I should have sat him down and shown him my Nike+ app for proof. I might just do that if I see him again.

So a pretty good run. Oh, except I was a plonker and at 2 miles realised I'd left my bottle of lucozade sport on the front seat of the car. I knew I'd never manage 14 miles without both fluid and calories (can't be bothered to explain the science behind glycogen stores so you'll just have to believe me that you need calories for anything over 90 mins) so had to turn around and run back to the car and retrieve the drink. Running past the same fishermen three times within 40 minutes got me some funny looks as well.

Another of my runs this week was with the very lovely Kim White. She took up running fairly recently and does it for fun. Not for marathon madness but for fun. Clearly I've judged her wrongly as I previously thought her to be pretty sensible but nonetheless, she remains my friend. When Kim was in Australia, she suggested we went for some runs together when she got back to the UK. I took her up on the offer as long as it combined with one of our previous favourite past-times. So on Wednesday, Kim and I ran 6 miles together and then went for coffee and cake. That's my kind of training. Here's the highlights:

Still smiling after 6 miles

Post-run stretching. Sort of.

Post run cake. I'd like to say that we were sharing this brownie!



Also did a short 4 mile run which takes my weekly milage total to 24 miles. It's taken me three runs to travel 2 miles short of what I have to do in a SINGLE DAY in, wait for it, 8 weeks time. AAAAAGGGHHHH!

This coming week is going to be tricky. I've got to fit training in around night shifts, a training day on emergency surgery, hubby having an operation and a cake sale. Crikey. Oh, and there's the small matter of running my first ever "race" next Sunday. Yes, I am an official entrant to the Retford Half Marathon. I am terrified that I will crash and burn on the first hill, lose all motivation and confidence, walk the rest of the route whilst sobbing and finish last.
And they apparently don't let competitors wear earphones. I was relying on more talk of "lalas" to see me through. Alas, no. But I will have a couple of mates running it with me so maybe we'll drag each other round whilst discussing "botbots". Here's hoping.

Wish me luck! Oh, and feel free to sponsor me:   http://virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy