I was sick with nerves the night before. Woke up at around 5.00am on race day with enough nausea blighting my stomach to render sleep obsolete. I wasn't actually sick, but I then spent those tentative pre-race hours rushing around worrying I would forget something important like my timer chip or race number, or safety pins.
I got my bag of stuff together and walked up to the bus stop, thinking that today of all days, my legs could do without that 40 minute walk to Temple Meads station. However, there wasn't another bus (being a Sunday after all) until 9.30 and I needed to be on a train to Bath by then. In a panic, I ran back down to the flat (only about 30 strides away) and rather apologetically got my housemate Victoria out of bed to give me a lift. The station was heaving with runners and a barrage of spectator-baggage, but somehow I managed to get a seat in 1st class - there wasn't an inch un-trampled anywhere on the length or breadth of the train.
I agitatedly listened and watched as close-neighbouring runners discussed their morning routine, pinning their numbers on - eating bananas: checking playlists. I felt alone, scared - like waiting for the first day of an elite club I had tasted but didn't quite feel qualified to be embraced by. But, I knew that I'd see a few familiar faces at the Penny Brohn Cancer Care tent, and that mum and Phil would be there at some point, once they'd swum through the furor.
After a few (perhaps unnecessary) portaloo stops on entering the Runners Village, I found the BPCC tent and Andrew (fundraising manager) wished me luck and offered me a banana. No thanks.... too nervous... hope I've had enough water to keep me hydrated but not too much to make me need another pee - (I have this OCD-esque tick with running where I'm not allowed to stop for ANYTHING, not to walk, not to drink, not to check my laces - once I'm going, I'm going).
As we chatter, I hear the anouncer calling us up, and I join the ever-expanding crowd of idiots in spandex, headbands, make-shift utility belts loaded with energy-fueling potions and bare skin - mostly silent, interspersed with nervous ramblings from (I'm being presumptuous) first timers.
It took around 15 minutes to reach my place near the front - I had a little 'c' next to my race number, which meant I was in the category of 1-2 hour finish time runners - felt good to be amongst the serious people. I looked to my left and saw not-to-convincingly-disguised actress/TV presenter, Nadia Sawalha on my left pimped out in all the latest gadgetry, calmly chatting to her partner in equally body-enhancing armour. At this point, even though I was tempted to listen to their conversation - I plugged into my iPod and began to zone out - as I always do when psyching up for a run. Music is an absolute necessity, and I'm glad Andrew told me to hide my iPod (they are banned, though I don't remember reading about it in the programme!), as I'd have been rather perturbed had it been confiscated at this pivotal point.
Vampire Weekend's 'A-Punk' got me off to a gleefully bouncy start - mood-lifting music for such a glorious morning. So glad I strategically crafted a playlist to accommodate the different transition points in the race: light-hearted and bouncy for the first 40mins, harder/faster for the mid section then euphoric favourites for the home-straight. Seemed to work pretty well, and I was very glad to have sewn a pocket into my shorts to hold my iPod and energy gel pouch so I was hands-free for maximum arm propelling.
I ran at a constant pace, just outside my comfort-zone for the duration and although I didn't feel quite the same adrenaline buzz that I had achieved at my first half marathon last year - I was still ecstatic to have shaved 8 minutes off my previous finish time. Did the handful of jelly babies grabbed and snaffled from a bowl on the sidelines of the second lap give me the extra energy boost I needed to push harder through the 'runner's wall'? Was it possible the weird pouch of sickly, banana-flavoured gloop (aka super intense-carb gel) provided a placebo or a real sixth-gear lever to help me sail towards the final straight? I'm pretty sure through sheer will-power I would have made it unaided - though I mustn't dismiss these man-made stimulants if they offer even a vague hint of physical/mental empowerment.
I'm annoyed with myself for not studying the course map more thoroughly before the race as I think I could have run faster through the last mile or two. But, as I didn't see the last couple of mile markers, and I wasn't really familiar with the end part of the route through the city - I didn't properly push for a sprint until the finish line was in sight.
I passed the line neither grinning like a lunitic nor waving my hands in the air. I didn't clock my time on a fancy-pants wrist watch, or collapse in a heap. I was relieved (as it was such a hot morning) though not too tired. I continued walking all the way back to the runners village - picking up my medal, and goody bag along the way. Mum and Phil were waiting for me at the PBCC tent, and both exuberantly hugged my sweaty torso.
I was one of the first PBCC runners back (out of 30 running for the charity) and also the first girl. See my official race placing here. I chatted to a guy who'd been level with me a lot of the course... we'd played a bit of a game of over-take, undertake - though I think he finished a minute or two before me in the end. I ate some gorgeously healthy PBCC-homemade flapjack and did some stretches in the sun. Mum handed me a hand mirror and a wet wipe so I could remove a crust of mineral-sweat from my eyebrows (who said running wasn't glamourous?!).
Mum, Phil and I then walked through the centre of Bath, stopping for a coffee and to watch the street busking. We were booked into Bath Spa at 2pm, and my god was I ready for some water-immersion to rest my bones. The roof-top pool was heaven - an oasis in the midst of a desert of sandy Bath stone and tiles. I lolled in the shallows until it was time for my treatment - a German sauna involving hay and camomile scented heat filtration. Strange yet oddly enticing. Couldn't quite imagine myself lying in a meadow but the naturalistic scent did make me feel deeply relaxed. I'm glad I opted for the medium-heat booth though as my body's capacity to fight light-headedness was on the verge of collapse.
20 minutes later I emmerged from the treatment room feeling calm, serene, hungry and a little dizzy, so we headed to the cafe for a smootie and chicken sandwich. Energy levels perked back up, we decided on one last 'scented pod' steamer, then I trawled through the rabbit warren of inter-compartmental changing rooms in an attempt to find my locker again.
I said goodbye to Mum and Phil as they caught their onward train at Temple Meads, jumped on a bus back to Redland and cooked myself a healthy yet decedent stir-fry with coconut milk and peanutbutter satay sauce. Followed swiftly by bed, though it took some time to drift off as I could feel every fibre of my being reconfiguring/rebuilding and contracting/expanding in order to repair from the race. It was such a strange sensation and then I suddenly got very cold, so I had to get up, boil a hot water bottle and take an iboprofen. Next day I was only achy round my lower back - headed off for work on my bike, walked off the back pain and was back in the gym the following morning, with achy knees being my only gripe.
I've officially been training for almost a year now (combo of running/cycling/gym) and it's just kind of become normality. I'm sticking to a healthy yet challenging routine - where variety of terrain and duration are keeping me on the path to long-term motivation. I've not felt this fit in years, and although the weight is not exactly falling off, I do feel strong and toned and ready for the next race.
I find it strange that although I am not a competative person, I do enjoy the buzz of race day - there's a need for the crowd to be there to help me face-up to those last few miles. I think I need it to make me forget my body and focus on mind over matter. The fundraising for Penny Brohn Cancer Care is another push - I don't think I could do all this as a personal challenge alone. I've raised almost £1,000 in two races, and although I know it'll be harder to beat higher money targets now most of my friends and family have contributed - I guess I'll just have to be more innovative with my fundraising methods/tactics. I'm thinking a spring fete themed cake bake-off may be my next endeavour to raise my combined target of £300 for the Bristol 10k and Half Marathon later this year.
Gulp. Better get my trainers on - it's Sunday and the sun is shining - absolutely no excuses not to activate those endorphins.
If you'd like to donate to PBCC, my JustGiving page is still open for online contributions: http://www.justgiving.com/Holly-Wicks0
2 comments:
Jelly babies are the best! I have them when I'm cycling.
Having a carefully constructed soundtrack seems like a brilliant idea. It's a shame it's not allowed. Although, I guess if they need to let emergency services through, you may not hear them.
It sounds like you had a lovely day. And your determination is very inspiring.
At the moment, things are pretty tight. But within a few months, if you're doing more races, keep me in the loop.
Well done for coming 1480th. :)
Well done on the time and amount raised! I am now inspired enough to actually buy those trainers I've been eyeing up for 12 months. Cycling isn't doing anything for me, I think runnings the (free) answer. (Running for free, I mean, not free running.) I shall now forever refer to banana-free fruit drinks and 'Smooties'.
Don't correct it. Best typo ever :)
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