Half Marathon Round 2

(Yeah...I don't know why I am doing this either)

It's true, you are not losing your marbles, I have signed up for another Half Marathon but this time....in MADRID!

So before I start documenting my training progress, something I know you are all DYING to hear about in great detail, I wanted to talk a little about my last attempt at the half marathon and what I learnt from it.

9 months ago, in February, I ran my first ever half marathon - The Hampton Court Half Marathon. I signed up with my sisters and was excited (*completely and utterly pooing my pants) to see how I would do.

I started running long distance about 5 years ago when I joined the cross country club in a desperate plea to never have to play netball again. (Yes, I am a middle class, basic, white girl how ever did you guess!?) I really enjoyed the racing but these rarely surpassed 10km and that was basically the longest distance I had ever run in my life, so the idea of running over double that (21km) was, to say the least, beyond terrifying and the stuff of nightmares.

SO, it began. I signed myself up to an app which sets out a training program, complete with weekly running schedule and a pace guideline for each run. I decided I was aiming for under 2 hours (shall we all just linger on that for a sec... '2 hours' of actual real life, no cheating or stopping for snacks, running!)

The plan that was created for me based on my aims and running history set out a meticulous plan for success, weekly running schedule with a specific pace guideline for each run. The idea is if you follow this plan, you will be ready and raring to go when race day rolls around... Seems simple doesn't it?

Side note: It's RUSS

                                               


HA.

Here is where I made my fatal mistake....

I thought I was better than the plan. I am telling you now, YOU ARE NOT BETTER THAN THE PLAN.

The reason I so foolishly thought this was because the plan starts you out running at a very slow and gentle pace, and for pretty short distances - aka 6.45 min/km for 5km - and for someone who usually runs 5 km in 30 minutes this felt pretty slow. (I'll let you all take a minute to do the maths there...and to take in how arrogant that last paragraph sounded... sorry not sorry)

Let me explain myself.

At this point in time, I was running about 3 times a week at around 5 min/km for anywhere between 5-8 km each time. BUT, this is me trying to run this distances as fast as I can and really really pushing myself hard, partly because it is good for you and also because it means you can go home and eat sooner. On a serious note, it is good to push yourself and find your limits. In fact every time you workout you should be in some way pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, otherwise how do you expect to improve? However, when you get to 8km feeling like your going to die the last thing your body wants to do is carry on for 13 more km.

Pacing yourself is KEY.

So basically, by December I had thrown caution to the wind and was running like a mad hooligan for about 12-16 km 3 times a week as fast as I could each time. It felt good, I was Mo Farah, I was the Brownlee brothers' long lost sister and then suddenly I was...in a huge amount of pain. Yeah, running at that intensity consistently had taken its toll. My knees hurt, my body in general felt tired and all of a sudden I didn't bounce out of bed to find my trainers but instead I felt a feeling of my dread in my stomach when I knew I had to go for a run.

Not only did this lead to aches and pains that made running those longer distances more difficult, but it also changed my mindset drastically about running. Suddenly it wasn't so fun anymore and I lost sight of why I fell in love in the first place, it sets my mind free but now I just felt trapped...

...Yeah I am completely melodramatic but this is how I felt at the time, so cuff me.

Despite this set back I kept on trying to run as much as I could and stay positive, but being completely honest I was really scared.

RACE DAY! So, the moment of truth finally came around and I was just hoping that I could make it round the course and maybe even try and get my aim of under 2 hours. AND I DID IT! I finished the race in 1.50hrs on the dot.

I don't want to scare anyone who is embarking on their first half marathon, but... BE PREPARED. Having already lost my dignity at around mile 8 after having to wee in a bush that was so clearly not hiding my modesty, whilst an american lady cheered me on (thanks babes) things could only get better right? The last 3 miles of that race were, for lack of a better word, heinous. My feet were killing me, my knees felt like they were made of barbed wire and my brain was willing me to stop. I had to really try to stop myself from crying and remind myself that 'You're so nearly there, you're so nearly there...when the hell am I gonna be THERE!?'

Despite this, seeing the finish line and my family at the end honestly made the entire thing worth it. I felt elated, proud of myself and my 2 sisters who did it with me, and also SO TIRED. I was dead, but happy... now we could go and eat!

So there you have it, a little (actually really long, congrats if you made it to the end) account of my first half marathon...which I now see makes it sound like something really really horrid and not very fun at all but that's actually not the case. This blog is about what I learnt, and for me I usually learn more from my mistakes (hence the slightly negative slant on this post). But clearly it wasn't that bad, because I have another one coming up in 4 months...Wish me luck!