Living on a Prayer

I slept badly, but that's OK, because Sal said everyone sleeps badly. She told me this when I asked her why on earth she recommended vanilla icecream and expresso before the aborted Grunty Fen half marathon. Turns out she was recommending it on its culinary qualities, rather than specifically pre-race food. I gave it a miss, but to no avail - I still didn't sleep well. I got up at midnight for a hot milky drink, but that didn't seem to help, especially after I managed to make it curdle (that was the apricot brandy). I woke up at 7:30, desperate to just stay where I was, but I had chickens to let out and cats to feed. I went round to Maggie's in my nightie, and was rather surprised to find her builder there at 8 am on a Sunday. We both pretended I wasn't wearing a nightie (fortunately I had an oversized jumper over the top of it). Then I ate breakfast... it was porridge, with yoghurt and apricot jam, and was completely vile. I managed about half a bowl, and rather like my childhood of eating the sugar out of the ready brek, then announcing I'd finished, I quit when the jam had gone. Frank finished the yoghurt, but turned his nose up at the porridge. The chickens LOVED it - which was as well because I also had half a saucepan left.

I started getting paranoid about missing the start of the race, and even though Nic's advice was I really only needed to get there half an hour before I started, I was scared in case the road was blocked or something, and set off at half nine, dosed up with paracetamol (as recommended by the GP) with an ibuprofen in my pocket for later. I don't tend to take analgesics that much, so I hadn't overloaded my liver too much over the previous days. I saw lots of runners and pedestrians on the way down, and everyone was very friendly and wishing each other luck, and made it to Cathedral Square, where I ran into Trudie who was doing the fun run with her boys. She was glad to see my up on my feet, after the last few days. The square was deafening, and it seemed unlikely that I was going to run into Heather and Nic accidentally. I sought refuge in the Cathedral - I thought, a quiet word can't hurt at this point. (It was also where I was the day I was interviewed for my job with English Nature). I sat at the back, relieved they hadn't started the service, and had a quiet moment, then saw Pete and Jenny, who I hadn't seen since they arrived back from honeymoon, so that was good. They promised they'd look out for me on the course.

Out in the square again, I randomly bumped into a guy I was at uni with, Michael, which was fun. I run into him about every 3 years, and think the last time I saw him was in almost exactly the same spot - he was also running, but i didn't see him again. I finally found Heather and Nic, who had brought Gavin with them, and was able to offload my bag and coat with them successfully. I lined up between 2 hours and 2:15, at the starter post, and spotted Rich, with his running protege, Tara. He said that a lot of folk from JNCC had said they would run, but had all dropped out (shame). He frowned at my ipod and said he thought it might be against the law, but I certainly wasn't alone, so I laughed at him. Also, lawbreaking is easy when you don't know the rules (right, Stephen?). However, he fully condoned my use of drugs, and said when he ran the Sahara, the squaddies were popping paracetamol and ibuprofen all the way round. I also ran into Will and Tony, but not Summer, who they said had stayed back a bit. They were hoping for sub 2 hours, so I made a mental note not to run with them. No sign of running Dave, though I scoured the crowds, I didn't see him, so that was one worry taken care of (I'd been going to run with him, and Sal said not to, so I was wondering about whether I dared raise her wrath or not).

We started out, and the first bit was a walk, but that was OK, because we hadn't got to the starting post yet. I fired the garmin up, ignoring Sal's instructions to not wear it - I was kind of interested in my heart rate today, what with being sick and all. Once we went past the post, just like Belvoir, away they went. You have to struggle not to peg off after them. I was all set to do my 11 minute/mile, and that went right out the window. I felt like I was running backwards doing a 10 minute mile, but I courageously let people past me. At the traffic lights, I passed Nic, Heather and Gav, and put in a wave; then at Central Park, I clocked Pete and Jenny again, with Stewart and Fiona (I didn't see Megan, but don't know if she was there or not; and didn't see little Caitlin either).  Around Newark Avenue, I saw Tony, who waved and said "Nearly there" because he's a bit of a joker, but he did get a good "fresh" photo.

 I kept my eye on the garmin, because let me tell you, my body wasn't telling me anything. Every time I looked at the garmin I was surprised. At how fast I was going. I tried to slow down a bit, because I wanted to get in the negative split, and I knew the second half would punish me if I didn't slow down, but it just didn't seem to be happening and my heart rate was in the comfortable high 160s, and I felt OK, so I kept going. Nigel told me about the kids all holding their hands up so you can high-five them as you go by, and it is really cool. They get all happy, and it gives you a buzz. So I did this for a lot of the first half. I had a chat with someone, mainly because I saw a bloke (walking) in full bomb-disposal outfit, and muttered an expletive, but forgot I had headphones in, so it might have come out louder than I meant. The bloke next to me told me it was bomb-disposal outfit (I wouldn't have known) so we gave him a cheer. I had a chat to the bloke, as I had un-headphoned, and thought i might as well check I was in chat-speed. He did the Grunty Fen, which was his first race, and said it was really cold and windy, so I felt quite smug I'd missed it.

I went passed Anita and her grandkids, high-fiving, and a little while later saw Chris, who had to run along side to get me to notice him. I'd just passed Rachel in Werrington who called out that she didn't know I was running it (note: touch her for sponsorship later), when Living on a Prayer came on the ipod. I looked at the distance, and I was at 7.12 miles - glory be, the boys came in bang on half way! WOAH-WE'RE HALF WAY THERE! - I would have sung, if I could - OOH-OH LIVIN' ON A PRAYER TAKE MY HAND AND WE'LL MAKE IT I SWEAR! WOAH-OH! LIVIN' ON A PRAYER. Just thinking of Fraser's face when he sings the bass made me grin from ear to ear. No idea what the bystanders made of it, but I was looking a lot happier than anyone else round me.

Anyway, time to speed up for the negative split! Didn't feel so comfortable about the idea, when I saw the smurf. The smurf was engaged in telling some female runners in front of me that he was a figment of their imagination "I'm the 9 mile smurf!" he said. The smurf was good to hang around with. Few of you could forget that I myself found Smurf fame at Scone: Rewind - well, a lot of people at that Festival greeted us collectively by screaming "LOOK, IT'S THE SMURFS". This meant that everytime the crowd cheered on the Peterborough Smurf, I just thought they were talking to me. I explained this to him, and he said "That's brilliant - you think they're cheering you, and you didn't even have to dress up!"

Around this point, I saw Julian (who for sake of clarity later, I shall dub Economics Julian), and shortly thereafter, Angela, Natalie, Margaret, and Peter and Mary, at which point I really started to feel like I was part of a community or something. Running around my town, and spotting friends all around the course. It was a good feeling. However, I can't deny I was also feeling knackered. Sal had said that 8-10 were hard. She said I had to be an actor, playing a Shiz hot runner. (Mum, if you're reading this, I don't know). I decided to do that; I thought that what was motivating her was recognition and adulation. Every time I saw a group of spectators, I gestured at them by raising my arms, and without fail I got an enthusiastic round of applause, at which point, I put my arms over my head as if I'd just won. It was good, actually. It was a bit tiring, but worth it, I thought. The crowd loved it, I was working them.

At some point around 11 miles, my next task was to pick people off ahead of me, and overtake them. I was tired, really tired, I don't mind telling you (now). I didn't feel like overtaking people. I felt like lying down. But quite a few seemed to be flagging, it was surely worth taking a few of them. I passed Jen (in the spectators) who gave an ecstatic yell, and further round the park, Pilates Julian, who compromised my time by shouting that he had missed me (brandishing his camera), and could he take another photo. At that point, I'd have done anything to slow down - every time I looked at the garmin now, it just said "warning: heartrate too high" which it defines as being 182 bpm - I don't have any arguments here. The ipod was playing Suzanne Vega, I'd abolished most of her songs from the set list yesterday for being too slow, but this one had something of a beat, so it stayed on. The lyrics went "If you were to kill me now, right here, I would still look you in the eye" - which frankly made two things occur to me - (1) it wouldn't be very difficult. You could probably do it by pushing me over. and (2) I probably would look you in the eye - I think my eyes got welded open several miles ago.

It ended, and Aqua's "Roses are Red" came on. I only added this yesterday, and I was really pleased I remembered about it. It's nuts, but it's very pop-y, and my pace picked right up, despite my state. I was now mile-watching on the garmin. I wanted this thing to be over, I really did. We got onto Padam Road East, which is part of the route that I know, because I run that way sometimes, but the familiarity didn't help, I was knackered. I wanted to stop. I saw Peter and Mary again (where did they spring from?) and they shouted out "Looking Good, Emma" - which perversely, did help, but not for long. I was just thinking that I was going to die for sure, when the Smurf caught up with me. "SMURF" I shouted (or croaked). He recognised me, which was nice, and said something like "Come on, you can do it!" in a way, not unlike Dave. I CAN do it, I thought. I thought of Louise writing on my sponsorship "Go Blue, fellow Smurf!", and I thought, this is it. I fell into pace with the Smurf, who was picking up, not slowing down. We bombed along, until that narrow path, where we had to negotiate our overtaking - including passing Rich and Tara. As the path widened out again, Aqua came on a second time! What a plan, to have it on twice! I decided to forgive the Smurf if he left me behind, but the final part of the plan came into action: I WAS Usain Bolt! (Don't tell Sal, I had to Google him when I read her plan. Sorry Usain). I sprinted around a group of people, conscious that Smurf was sprinting neck and neck with me on the other side of the people, but not getting away, and also that my name was being hollered in my right ear. We pounded past a few more people, and I was just wondering if I could keep it up, glanced at the garmin, which informed me that I was dead (heart rate 197 bpm) but recalled that Sal said she didn't care what my heart rate was at that point - and then it was all over.

Nigel was there, and gave me my t shirt; and I staggered out, and somehow Nic and Heather and Gav managed to find me.  Turns out I beat Dave - he came in about 6 minutes behind me. Although by his own admission, his training was somewhat lacking. And the stats said that I came in 2095th, with 66% people ahead of me, but 499th woman, with 43% women ahead of me. I was the same ratio in my age group, with 43% women my age ahead of me. But best of all, in the second half, I overtook 378 people, and was only overtaken by one! And I got the negative split in, too. Even the garmin thought so... boy did my heart know about it when I started the second half.

And you know what? I quite enjoyed it! But the best thing was stopping.