Feels like taper madness... what happens when runners don't run

A long period of not running is a bit like a prolonged taper, it does weird things to your mind. When the running stops, that running-shaped bit of our lives becomes a void where there be dragons and monsters to work wyrd magick in our heads. When we taper, we have to trust the space of not running and it's often when we get a deeper understanding of running.  Not running because of an injury brings a similar void. I'm beginning to realise the importance of finding the value of 'not doing'; not running; whatever the reason for our stillness.

In my last post I found myself questioning the right to call myself a runner. It led to a lovely exchange with Bob, a Twitter chum and remarkable blogger.  Bob has a powerful story to tell about being a runner and not always being able to run (I don't want to spoil the story so will say no more!).  His tale helped me understand that I am indeed a runner even if I'm not on my feet. If you ever get fed up being injured and fear you're losing hope, read Bob's story and believe. Thanks to Bob I know that at a fundamental level that no matter what I do, I am a runner. #thatisall

As the week went on I got more and more aware of the vacuum created by not running and how clearly I can see how running has become a fundamental part of my life, of who I am and increasingly, my core survival strategy.   When things have been tough, running has got me through. Now that I've stood still for a while, I can see I've almost literally been running for my life the last wee while - to burn off stress and clear my mind. Running has given me a massive sense of achievement and self confidence that I can do what I set out to do. It has provided an escape from worries and fear. Running has gifted me friends, a positive attitude, resilience and more confidence than I have ever had about anything: ever. But I only truly understood this when I stopped running.

The weird thing is it's all crept up on me without me even noticing.  Three years ago I was doing one run a week and just beginning to think I might go for a half marathon.  I could easily slot a run into my life with almost no adjustment. I just had to find a bit of time - about an hour a week. I wore my  usual gym kit and shoes. I ate what I normally ate. Easy.

But over the last 3 years, the balance has shifted and quite often I'm working out how to juggle things round a run. The signs are visible everywhere I look.  The alarm set for the crack of dawn to squeeze a run in before work; protein shakes in the cupboards; more trainers than heels and drawers full of lycra.

Nature abhors a vacuum and I have felt a real desire to rush to fill the spaces with noise and ideas and plans and goals, but if I do that I lose the true value of being where I am.  So I'm not going to do that. I'm going to stay here for a while and see what emerges. I'll be running soon and I'll lose the perspective that not running gives me, the chance to reflect on my life from a different place.  The future lies in the spaces in between and it will emerge in  its own good time.

Every time I've taken time out of running I have gone back stronger and better and more fully a runner. The first time brought I discovered a Chi Running teacher and community that have helped me connect my mind and body and focus on form.  The second time I learnt how to  accommodate my less than perfect biomechanics (i.e. dodgy feet) and to balance my lop-sidedness. Now, I'm reflecting on where running fits into my life and how I want to run over the next stage of my life.

When we runners don't run for whatever reason, a space is created. What we do with that space is up to us. We can turn away from it, ignore it, freak out, pack it full of activity.  Or we can lean over the edge, take a peek at what lies within and wait for new things to happen. It  really is a case of watch this space!

Whether you're running or reflecting, have a great week.

Take care

Suex

Ich Bin Ein Runner

What is the defining feature of a runner?

It's only over the last two years I've come to define myself as a runner, even though I've run sporadically for over 50 years.  I'm very proud of being able to call myself a runner now that I feel I've earnt the right to the honour and there's no doubt that it has transformed and enriched every aspect of my life.

At the moment, I'm a runner who can't run. The fact that running is so much more than a physical act is painfully apparent to me just now. But what happens when you can't do the very thing that defines an important part of you? I might feel like a runner inside, but how do I proclaim my running identity when I'm not able to run? How do we runners recognise our ain people if they're not clad in lycra and trainers and out on the trot? When I see another runner and I'm not running I want a badge, an arm band, some way of letting them know that, although I am walking and in civvies, I run. I want to tell them - 'I'm a runner too, I just can't run at the moment!' I don't do this of course, I've come to learn that shouting at strangers is not acceptable behaviour.  If there's someone with me, I have been known to make a running-type comment just loud enough for the passing runner to hear so that they know I am not just an ordinary person, I am one of us. Sad but true.

But even though I can't physically run, I am still a runner. Being a runner means being part of a massive community of folk to compare notes with, to share tales of glory and woe with. The running community loves to chat about the great passion we share. We learn from each other and support each other and cheer each other on to greater feats. Though indisposed, I can still work on my running. I can read about and develop my understanding of running; I can blog and tweet - life savers for us runners who are off our feet.

 I'm finding the combination of injury-enforced time-out and connecting with the wider running community is taking me to interesting new places that will ultimately develop me as a runner. Because I'm injured I don't have an active running goal; no time; no race; no distance to focus on. This has enabled me to open up to new and better ways of doing things.  For those of us who tend to get carried away with enthusiasm in our running, injury time can be nature's way of making us take stock. So the really daft thing to do is ignore the importance of time out and waste its potential.

I'm finding the mental part of injury time is a bit like the process my mind goes through on a long run.  Once I settle down to accepting I'm here for a while, I begin to relax into where I am and just go with it and see where it takes me. Last time injury took me to Chi Running and my teacher Nick. This new long non-run is leading me to think about why I run, what drives me to get out there. I'm not sure why or where this will take me, but I know it's a journey I have to make.  I have to put on my mental training shoes and get out there beyond my psychological comfort zone.

I am a runner. I can't run, but that won't stop me and it doesn't take away the fact that I am a runner. I ran today. I sat in the garden with my eyes closed. In my mind's eye I visualised my favourite run.  I ran barefoot from North Berwick along the beach; splashing in the briny and leaving perfect Chi footprints from here to Yellowcraigs and back. I felt the sun on my face and the wind at my back (going and coming back - a delight of virtual runs!). The oystercatchers shrieked and the gannets were diving from a deep blue sky.  My muscles were strong and every bit of me was on perfect form and my mind felt clear. I could run forever.

Hope you've had a good week, free from injury of the body or mind.

Take care,

Suex

Back on the bench...

Well, seems like I was right to call canny and not push through the pain barrier. Thanks to a mid week visit to Pam at PhysioPlus (Hi Pam!) that niggling not quite right sorta feeling in the hip has been diagnosed as a trochanteric bursitis. That's inflammation of that knobbly bit on the outside of your hip that crunches on the gym floor when you're doing clamshells. It's one problem I never had when I was overweight! Despite taking it easy and cutting the running right down, that hip just kept on niggling.  It didn't hurt when I did things and didn't always hurt after a run or spin class. It did hurt after running for the train with a heavy rucksack (the joys of modern work practices!). But when a yoga class had me in agony and left me feeling jangled and not right afterwards, I knew there was something that needed sorted out. That's one of my favourite things about yoga, there's no place to hide when things are out of synch, you just know.

Luckily it's fixable, I just have to rest for a few weeks and then gradually build up my exercises again.  Nothing like the calf tear where I had no idea what caused it till months afterwards.

Of course it's irritating not to be able to run in this lovely weather when the beach is soo inviting, and our walking holiday will be a bit different than planned.  It's even more annoying that I can't spin or cross train or do anything that involves lying on my side. Its a bloody nuisance that walking hurts if I do too much or carry heavy things. I can't stand for long either and sitting - well even that hurts!  And an injury that isn't helped my yoga or Pilates? Now that does not compute. Sometimes it's good to have a good moan!

But I don't have much to complain about, a few weeks and some changes and I'll be right as rain. It makes sense that it's the hips that are in the firing line now as that's where I used to get aches and pains when I first started running. When I first hit the tarmac, I used to get a sore lower back which I now know was because I was sticking my butt out (as physio Judith explained to me, equinnus foot goes with an S-shaped spine).  Then it was the calf, then the foot, then the knee and now back up to the hip. It's all gone full circle and every time I've identified a weakspot, I've worked to correct the form, strengthen the weaker bits and stop doing what aggravates it. I suspect this cycle will keep going as long as I choose not to give in and sit and watch tv!

So I'm making the most of not being able to exercise and looking at some re balancing.  I met a dear friend for lunch at the The Rocks in Dunbar (such good food and fab company!) - that's the pic at the top. I've played with the cats and enjoyed watching them discover how to get onto the shed roof. They're still mastering bird watching with very little obvious sign of actually catching anything but I'm enjoying watching them learn - lessons for me too there I think. That's Dougal at the top - he is quite magnificent and Hamish below who is unbelievably cute. Both mad as hatters as indeed are all cats.

I've done some pottering in the garden and finally got my sweet peas in and my asparagus staked. I have 2 asparagus spears, but it's too young a plant to provide anything to eat just yet. The birds are well fed and the plants are watered.

I even got time to get to The Abbey's strawberry tea. That's Mum's wonderful residential home, and no running meant I had time to go and help out on the tombola. It was a really lovely afternoon with lots of relatives and friends gathering round the residents and what a lovely bunch of folk they are. The Staff are quite wonderful and do all they can to make Mum's and her chum's lives about living not existing.  The place is currently fixated with the emergence of a clutch of young chickens from eggs incubated in the hall. There's been a buzz every time one hatched out and there's always someone sitting watching them.  It doesn't take much kindness to transform a life.

So  I'm back on the bench, waiting to get back to form, trying to be positive about not being able to exercise when there is lovely sun and NO WIND. I know that I have a  tendency to rely on exercise as a crutch to get me through the hard times and keep my body in shape. Yet again I can't do that and yet again I must really learn to get to grips with it. But as the cats melt in the sun and I head off to potter in the garden, I count my blessings.

Hope you're all having a good week and have sun where you are, What must it be like to live somewhere where it's sunny all the time!

Take care

Suex

Life after a marathon: even my recovery time is slow!

It's over a month since Lochaber and by now I'd planned to be well into the next challenge of being a Speed Queen again, training for Race for Life in June and on my way to a new 10k PB. But as ever, things haven't worked out quite as I'd expected and I've realised that marathon recovery can have a bit of a tail....

Things started off well immediately after the marathon. I had one day of being very stiff, a few days of minor aches and pains in places that don't usually hurt and then everything felt normal.  But I didn't rush back to running. For the first couple of weeks, I ran very little and focussed on mixing the activity up to get my body re-balanced. I wanted to re establish my original core fitness that stood me in great stead when I started running a few years ago.

On my first post marathon run, I felt stiff and heavy legged and it was hard work. The second run felt  more fluid, strong; I was coming back and it felt good.  Good, until the next day when my knee and my foot hurt. It was weird, neither cause any problem when I run, and I had no problem during or after the marathon. In fact they'd been fine since February when I was half way through marathon training and got my insoles.  But then I twigged; I'd done the second run au naturelle without the insoles (though still in my Brooks).  My post marathon plan had been to build up my natural unaided running as part of general base training.  This turned out to be a bad move. Those 5 miles, great though they were at the time, set me back. Lesson learnt.

So I went back to spinning, yoga and pilates and didn't run for almost a whole week. The next Thursday morning dawned beautifully sunny so it was time to get out to the beach and just see how things were panning out. This time I wore all the foot stuff, I wasn't taking any chances. Five super sunny miles, without a niggle and I even did a spot of fartlek for fun.  I felt great. Phew, back to normal. Until the next day when, yes the knee and foot started niggling.

However, things weren't as bad as before at all and quickly settled down, so I decided to cut running down to once a week, keep a spin class or two and a Pilates or yoga session. I also decided to focus more on strengthening my feet and knees. So this week I've started every morning with some feet and knee exercises and after work on Friday we  had a lovely barefoot walk on the beach. It's just impact that my tootsie's struggle with and I even managed the first (deliberate!) paddle of the year. Pretty warm it was too.

Yesterday, I did Zumba (my first for months and what fun!) and a short interval session on the treadmill. For today's treat, Ali and I got the bus to Gullane and walked the 6 and a bit miles back.  Not much of a view, but the beach was really atmospheric. Someone has fixed the coastal walk so you can get almost all the way to Gullane by land even if the tide's in. There's a lovely bit of new woodland path that I am looking forward to running soon.

So, full recovery is taking a while,  but there's no rush, I've got plenty of time. I'm just doing what feels right and going with that and not my head telling me I need to get on and achieve things.  There are some things that might never 'recover'. My feet are bigger now. Before I was a size 5, now I run in size 7s. My abnormally high arches are a little less high than they were! Will they spring back? Who knows! The other big change is how good it feels to have accomplished something despite all the struggles and obstacles. I know it's not like Everest, and I know loads of folk can run miles and miles further in much less time and then do it again the next day.  Running is about what you can do, not what other folk can do and Lochaber was my achievement; no one can ever take that away from me. Never. Ever. And that feels good.

Oh, and something else that felt good this week, I got a piece about the Lochaber Marathon in The Scottish Running Guide. Which is great cos that's where I found out about it in the first place!

Hope you've had a good week and got some quality healthy you time in too. It's so hard to make time with all the things we need to do, but we are definitely worth it!

Take care

Suex

I've run a marathon - what next???

I had one of my most favourite (and shortest!) runs ever this week.  Monday morning I just ran for the fun of it on the beach; without insoles, without gels and no thought about fuel or glycogen. I just got up, got dressed and ran. That's the first time I've done a run purely for the fun of it for months and it felt great!

I'm sure no matter how many half and full marathons I run and how fast or slow I do them, nothing will feel like the first one. I've really enjoyed the exclusive focus on running and what I've learnt from pushing myself and aiming for something that wasn't easy. And I hope very much that I'll run another marathon if I'm spared and well; but not for a wee while. For now I want to spend a bit of time doing all the things I've not had time to do and get a bit of balance back into my life and muscle - I like balance.

There's been a few things about the whole marathon thing that have driven me batty.

- Not being able to do much exercise with Ali because I had to run all the time
- Having to run to a timetable not when I want to - especially when it 's a lovely day but I can't do a run on the beach because I'm resting (AARRGGHH!!!!).
- Having to focus only on distance and forget about hills and speed, especially speed, it is my weakness
- Not being able to do spinning and running because my knee began to grumble if I did too much

The biggest thing is the time that marathon preparation takes up -- especially when it's your first one and you can't even think about cutting corners (expect the crisis type cuts!). The juggling, the wheeling and dealing to get those runs in.  Without the long runs I have so much time.  Ali and I can do lunch and get a walk on the beach.  Yesterday we cycled to Haddington and back for lunch with a dear friend.  My legs really enjoyed the change, especially my knees.

And there's the energy! That first weekend without a long run, I was up early and completely bottomed the kitchen. I was up ladders, on top of cupboards, into every nook and cranny. Our kitchen has never been so clean and the spiders have had to make do with a move to the garage.  Since the long runs stopped, the garden has been weeded and I've done swimming and aqua aerobics, the cats are all played out and I've done all sorts of stuff I've not done for months.

Finally, there's the mental space that marathon prep takes up. I still wake up at 5am planning my running schedule for the week. I'm still checking tide times and wind direction several times a day and looking to see whether I can fit a run into my work schedule. But it's a but less obsessive now and I have a bit more brain capacity for stuff that isn't running.

But of course running's not far from my thoughts. There's another reason I want time to do other things. I never captured the level of fitness I had when I ran my first half marathon, I spent most of the training sorting out my deformed feet. Plus in my training, I got loads of things wrong and many's the time I thought 'next time I'll remember to do X or Y'.  It's in my blood to learn from my mistakes (just as well given how many I make) and I never waste a learning experience (especially if it hurts) so I've decided to spend the rest of the year getting myself into good basic shape to start training for a marathon next year (I want to do Lochaber again, I loved it). I know now what bits of me I need to work on.

I've set my fitness goals for the rest of the year as:

• Taking my Chi Running deeper, which includes the Nick's Chi Running weekend in the autumn which I'm really excited about (dead chuffed to feature in Nick's roll of honour this month too!)
• Building up my basic fitness, core strength and resilience, especially the bits that struggled most with the training. A mix of Pilates and Yoga and circuit/strength work to build key muscles and strengthen joints.  And I'll get back to spin with a vengeance.
• Getting my 10k back under 55 mins and maybe even a new pb.  That should keep my inner speed queen happy!
• Reintroducing hill work. I was much slower and running felt harder without the hillwork. Like speed, it got binned so I could build up distance. I'm going to very carefully start building in some hills and get those calves back to peak condition.

The aim is to get faster, fitter and stronger by the end of the year and to re discover and develop other aspects of my running, the bits I've neglected so I could run long. I want to start marathon training next time from a stronger base using my experience of what it's all about and how my body responds.  I'll keep doing my long slow runs now and then, mainly because I really enjoy them. I just like heading off and running up the coast and back on a nice day, simples.

So, that's it. Time to get off the laurels and back onto the training schedule. Apart from my mini run, I've done a cycle ride, pilates and yoga and a couple of Gillian Reynolds shred sessions. Everything seems to be in working order, so I'm ready to go.

Lots more full and half marathons this week and some great achievements.  Whatever you're up to, be great!

Take care

Suex

You'll Never Run Alone: A thank you to those who stand and wave

The world seems a very different place since the Boston Marathon last Monday.  With the London Marathon a few hours away, there has never been a stronger sense of us runners being a global community, united not just in our love of all things running but also in our determination not to give in.

Of course we are shocked. Less than a week ago, running was in a different world from bad things. Marathons are all about being human, reaching for our dreams, a manifestation of all that is best and true of humanity - even if that isn't always pretty.  Somehow it was even more shocking because something so good and innocent was targeted by people who hate. Shocking because it happened to ordinary runners, people like me and you and millions of others all over the world dreaming of their first or their perfect marathon.  It just didn't make any sense. Why on earth would you target runners? Why?

As events unfolded, it became clear this wasn't just about runners.  Friends and family, strangers and colleagues who cheered and waved as runners reached their marathon's end were killed and mutilated.  A young boy watching his father. A restaurant manager who stood at the finishing line almost every year.  A young graduate student from China. That this horrible frightening thing had happened to the people who stand and cheer us on seemed even more unfair and grotesque.

Shock became anger. It's bad enough to do this to runners, we who have chosen to do this mad thing, but to hurt our supporters, our posse, innocent bystanders; the strangers who smile and wave and cheer us on? It just didn't compute. It seems doubly unfair.

 I thought back to Lochaber and the wonderful support of the folk who waved and smiled me over the long hard slog. The folk waiting for me at the finish line more than 5 hours later and who gave me a massive hug looking almost as pleased as I did! The marshals who made me laugh out loud and kept me safe and hydrated; the people waving from their doorsteps and windows who gave me a thumbs up or a word or two of encouragement. The group of folk who cheered as I ran towards them, making me look round before I realised they were cheering me! I felt like Mo Farah! The scouts who handed out lucozade and the lovely little girl in pink who waved from the bus stop and offered me a drink.  None of them different to the supporters in Boston.

I thought about all the support I'd got from Ali. Not just him popping up here and there to cheer me on and hand me a hot cuppa at the end. Ali who spent over 5 hours wondering if I was going to make it round or not and never let on how worried he was. Who never complained about my dark o'clock rises to run before work or commented when I walked down the stairs like I was 125 years old groaning and wincing on ever step.  The weekends eaten up by long runs followed by hours of stretching and rolling round on lumps of foam and tennis balls.  The tyranny of the training schedule which determined when we could walk or cycle and when I had to rest and eat. The timetabling of holidays round the marathon schedule.  The incessant worrying about aches, pains and pace. I'm sure there must be many times our loved ones would dearly like to tell us to sit down and have a rest, but bite their tongues.

None of us run a marathon on our own and the bombers have hurt badly the people who give so much purely to see their loved ones pursue a dream or to encourage a stranger.

The London Marathon is going to be an even more special run than usual. It is the first major marathon since Boston and it will point to the future of running across the world. Every runner out on Sunday is making a statement on behalf of every one of us who have donned trainers and hit the streets. Every person helping, supporting, waving is also making a stand against bullying and terror on behalf of us all. Everyone at the London Marathon carries with them the admiration and hopes of runners and those who support us across the world.

So yes, we are runners, we are strong and we will run on. But we are also the ones who stand and wave.  On Sunday, we will all be strong and we will be united.  Together we will honour the marathoners and their supporters from Boston, London and every other race.

Very special thoughts to Celina, Kaz, Denis, Michelle and Zoe who are running on Sunday. Remember your posse - real and virtual - are right there behind you waving you on.  Know you are strong and have a totally brilliant day!

Whether you're running or waving, have a great marathon.

Take care

Suex

Lochaber Marathon: Race Report

I can't tell you how much pleasure it was to type those 4 words. Four little words, 4 long months. 26.2 miles. I can't take the grin off my face either!

Yesterday I ran the Lochaber Marathon in 5h 14m (my Garmin said 5.11).  It was my first marathon. It was a marathon I really didn't think I'd start never mind finish.

The Lochaber Marathon is a must do marathon and a great place to do your first or any marathon.  I picked it because it's small, it's run by and for runners and it's in one of the most beautiful bits of the world.  It's also one of the oldest marathons, 2014 was its 30th year.

From the moment I registered, I knew this was the right place for me. I was nervous and sore from a long car journey and could barely walk. The prognosis was not good for running, but I was hoping for a miracle. As I registered, I felt so emotional I could have burst into tears. Would I make it to the starting line? Would I run 1 mile or 10?  But I got such a warm welcome, such a lovely smile and reassuring words from the folk on the desk that I relaxed. Whatever happened on Sunday, it was going to be okay. These lovely people would understand. All I had to do was get to the starting line.

The next day we did some gentle sight seeing, sampled local delicacies and did some gentle walking on the sands of Morar. No wonder they film so many films round this beautiful place.

On the road back, we saw the signs out for the race. I held my breath. Less than 24 hours time I might be here. The scenery was simply stunning, the road lovely and flat but it was a scarily long way. Lochaber is an out and back race and as we saw the sign for the turning point, I realised just how far I'd have to run. It silenced and humbled me.

The night before the big day, we had a seriously delicious carb loading at the Ben Nevis Inn with a view of the mighty mountain and a well deserved top rating on TripAdvisor (so good we went again to celebrate!). Then back to our room where I got my kit all paid out and ready then spent the rest of the evening trying to get my back into a runnable state. I'd forgotten my tennis ball, so instead improvised with... a turnip! A bit hard but needs must. Luckily I did remember my roller and trusty hot water bottle.

Sunday morning was wet. And cold. And windy. Here's the view from our  lovely B&B, Myrtle Bank. Not the best way to start marathon day with lashing rain and howling winds.

Given I was probably only running for a few miles I did wonder if I should just save us all a load of bother and turn back now. Wasn't I being a bit pig headed? But I'd come this far, and it would have been a real failure to have been put off by a  bit of bad weather on the big day. Especially as it was nothing like as bad as some of the weather I ran in when training.  I knew that at very least I had to start the marathon. It really didn't matter what came next. If I didn't start I'd never know what I could have achieved, and I might have wasted my one chance. Every single journey has to start with that first step.

So all porridged and vaselined up, we headed off in the pouring rain. I can't tell you how nervous I was. My mouth was dry. My tummy in knots. I was strangely quiet and introspective.  It stayed wet as the twa pipers piped us up to the start line on the shinty pitch. I went right to the back. I wanted to be out of the way, to run my race my way. Plenty of time to speed up over 26.2 miles.

We started off running through houses, along the canal and then onto the road to Mallaig - the Road to the Isles.  There were loads of lovely Marshals keeping us safe and cheering us on. It must be the friendliest race around, it was like chatting to people I meet on my runs on the beach (I did succumb to saying hello to a dog right at the end too!).  Even better, Ali was waiting for me at 4 miles to check I was okay. I was sore but not stopped in my tracks, which was progress on last Sunday when I'd had to stop at 4 miles and hobble home.

As we ran out of Fort William the views just got amazing and the sun came out. For the first time in months I was running in warm sunshine and having to think about hydration, but there were plenty of stops. I stayed at the back and got to know the small group of back runners. We were spread out which I really liked. It was like doing a normal long run, I felt no pressure to worry about anyone else or speed up or slow down. I was free to run my race, my way and enjoy the scenery and the people who came out of their houses to wave us on. I popped Danny Dreyer's Chi Running onto the ipod.

As the miles gradually racked up, I realised that pain came and went but it wasn't getting any worse.  Before I'd left I'd had a really good sorting out from Pam and Lizelle at Physio Plus so I knew that I would hurt but I also knew what was behind the pain and that this was pain that could be endured without doing me harm.

So the pain was manageable and nothing else was hurting, so I began to wonder if I could make 10 miles. At about 8 miles, the sun was shining, the loch sparkled and the air was fresh and clear. I felt I could run (slowly) forever. I knew then that I would get round even if I had to crawl. Nothing was going to stop me now, nothing. I was committed.  It was a good feeling.

For the first time since my hip seized up 3 weeks ago I began to think I might just run this marathon and it was exciting.

Now I had hope and dogged Yorkshire grit persistance, I had a strategy - to get to the end come hell or high water. I focussed on doing whatever I had to do to manage the pain and stop anything seizing up. Suddenly it didn't matter how long I took, or if I walked, hopped or jumped to the end. I was running the race I was in. Not the race I imagined, not the race I hoped for, but the race that was in the here and now. I started to really enjoy myself and go with the flow -  the pain and stretching were just matters to be dealt with. I thought about my sessions with Nick on Chi running and my Chi running chums on Facebook.

I know you read all that stuff and nod sagely, but this was serious road to Fort William enlightenment. Run the race you're in. Of course dumbo!!

As we headed past the end of the loch, past the loos and more merry Marshals, the rain began. Just light enough to be refreshing at first, a few miles later it was soaking and gusty. I quite liked the rain, I'd trained in rain, sleet and howling gales so it felt totally normal.

At the half way turning point I got a real buzz. I have a thing about getting to half way and heading home, it gives me a big psychological boost on my runs, so Lochaber suited me nicely.  I hit half way 1/2 hour quicker than my training long runs so I felt pretty positive, I know I can run 20 - maybe I could do it in 5 1/2 hours.....

A mile later everything went strange and I began to worry that I wouldn't finish. I have no idea where it came from, but about that time I experienced my own mental wall (my legs were ok).  That's when I started run/walking and when I started to wonder what was happening in my body. Had I fuelled enough, had I drunk enough? Things I never worry about when I run normally. I ate a jelly baby or two and told myself I never had to eat them again after today. I thought about my Dad. The reason I started running. Whose Parkinson's meant he was robbed of the choice of movement. Who'd be so proud of me and who would move heaven and earth to get me through.

Gradually as the next mile marker came into view and I realised I was still running (and still in 1 piece!) I got a grip. The skies began to clear and I was stretching every mile now, but every mile was a victory,  every mile was a mile I hadn't thought I could run. Every mile was nearer that finishing tape.  As I hit 20 miles I knew I was entering the unknown. At just after 21 miles, my calves started doing very strange things. It felt like a sort of popping cramp type feeling. I flashed back to my calf injury of last year and slowed right down and basically walked and ran to the end. It was frustrating, I had energy left in my legs and I had trained to speed up at the end, so a slow finish just felt wrong.  Somehow I managed to run over the finishing line 5 hours and 14 minutes after I left it.

I got a lovely hug from the woman who gave me my rather lovely medal and then from Ali along with the best cup of tea I"ve ever had. One marathon finished, against all odds.

I never thought I'd finish that marathon. For most of the last few weeks I couldn't really see much point in even starting it, but I knew that I had to at least try.  My life never goes to plan, and once I accepted that this marathon wasn't going to plan either I realised I had a choice. I could wait until everything went smoothly, or I could just make the best of what I had in front of me. I am so glad I didn't miss my chance because things weren't as I wanted them to be.

I could have done none of this without Ali who gave me support and space in just the right amount and who believed in me. Thank you Ali.

Pam and Lizelle and everyone at Physio Plus have been amazing at patching me up and keeping me going. I really thought I'd no chance until Friday morning when Pam said I'd nothing to lose by just trying. How right she was. Thank you!

And I couldn't have picked a better place to make my debut. It was the friendliest, best organised event I have attended, set in the most stunning scenery. It was small - 363 folk went over the starting line and I came 353rd.  I liked the small scale, we were real people not numbers. It was running as I love to run - doing my own thing, running along through beautiful scenery, at my own pace, not running with elbows and MAMILs shoving me out of the way.  I could wear my iPod and sing along as I ran.  It was just like doing a really long run in a beautiful place, the lovely Loch and the magnificent Ben Nevis. And I got a medal, a wee bottle of whisky and food. What more can a girl want?

So it is done. My life will never be the same again. I've started thinking about what next. I quite fancy working on my 10k time for Race for Life and I want to do some walking and cycling with Ali. I haven't ruled out another marathon, but for now I'm just savouring the delicious delight of being a marathoner. I like the sound of that.

Good luck to everyone running London next week and Manchester's coming up soon. If you can possibly get to the starting line, do it. You never know what might happen. If your race turns out different to what you'd hoped, don't despair. Run the race you get, not the one you would have liked. That way you might just find you get further than you ever thought possible.

Mileage this week? 26.2. YES!!!!

Take care

Suex