Well I do apologise for leaving you hanging. There's an old adage, however, that says that the longer I leave it before writing a blog, the more concise it will be. This is clearly rubbish, but I daresay there might be an element of vagary creeping in.
The whole event was about this man, who wanted to run his 40th Marathon with 40 people at the age of 40. Lucas. He has, as mentioned, a whole website dedicated to his passion, entitled Lucas Keeps Running, and it certainly seems like he does. He's also, helpfully, just completed a masters degree in the entertainment industry, so was immediately able to put this to good use by organising a quite phenomenal event. He put on a lovely welcome for his 40 runners and their assorted friends and helpers, in a village hall outside of Chester, making us feel welcome, and assaulting us with information about the first 40 marathons, as well as his personal life, on which we were invited to join in quizzes through the evening, including one on all of us! My question concerned which of his 40 runners had directed an Edinburgh Festival show! (Always nice to make an impression!). There was an incredible amount of pasta, tempered with healthier things like salads, and less healthy things like cheesecake, and there was birthday cake and speeches. It was a lovely opening, promising well, and we were able to meet some of our fellow runners.
I had already met one such on the train, via the magic of Facebook, I learned that a fellow passenger was aboard the same train as me, and met Russel, along with the cake, made by his wife, which was in very careful transit, and I was allowed a sneak-peak, but not a slice. I argued we could patch it up, and no one would be any the wiser, but it was dangerous to tease someone who has created a masterpiece, as I know very well myself.
I feel it's worth revisiting how I came to be involved with the whole made trip, because essentially it was via my friend Kerry (on the left), who I know primarily as the methodist minister who once wrote
a brilliant poem involving the way my MP blocks people on twitter who disagree with him (I know I don't usually name people on here, but that's Stewart Jackson MP). This was the first time I'd been made aware of this, although subsequently I found out that my MP had also blocked a social worker and several others, as well as making a formal complaint because a junior doctor emailed him from her workplace, which he regarded as a waste of public money. Not his swimming pool in his second home, that was a good use of public money. But I digress.
Anyway, Kerry, great bloke, seemed to have noticed that I've run one or two long distances, so when Lucas was searching for runners, he got in touch. Having joined the team, I also found out that a colleague, who I didn't know at the time, was involved in the running. This was a lot of fun, and just goes to show how good running can be for expanding your social horizons.
On the morning of the run, we made our way down to the Chester Race Course, where Lucas's 40-40-40 tent and team were collecting, in our yellow-green t-shirts. Some of us (myself included) were sporting our green 40-40-40 transfers, and I also had my Cancer Research transfer on my cheek. We were all set for the start line, and 26.2 miles of Cheshire and Welsh countryside (yes, we crossed the border!)
The run itself I didn't especially have a plan for. Obviously, I had my two "PB"s in mind, but owing to the 3.5 weeks training, I was thinking that 5 hours was optimistic. But I just decided to run how I felt, and try not to die in the second half. It seemed like a good enough plan, immediately backed by Michael who said right from the off "Just remember, that it is, quite literally, a marathon not a sprint. Stick to your plan. Even if your plan is just to put one foot in front of the other". This was, quite literally, one of the most perfect runmeter comments, making me laugh because I quite literally have a thing about people over-using the phrase "literally", and of course, Michael used it perfectly correctly, which made me smile. And I didn't have a plan, and Michael encapsulated my plan perfectly for me. Runmeter really came into its own on this race. I kind of prepped people, and told them ahead of time that comments would be welcomed, and they didn't let me down. Perversely, the Baron insisted on telling me my pace and distance, which although irritating, because it was the one thing I knew, did motivate me quite successfully. The reason was that I was running far too fast, and I knew it - I couldn't maintain a 9 minute mile. Or could I? I decided to find out. According to the Baron, who I was resenting for spending the morning in a cafe, idly watching my runmeter miles tick up, it was predicting a 4:01 marathon. This was patently absurd, and I knew it. But... I thought, I might as well see how long it lasts, because at worst (well, probably not quite "worst") I can always drop down to what I call "ultra pace", which is something faster than crawling.
At around 7 miles, my right IT band did something amazing: it tightened so hard that I swear you could have played the banjo on it. I mentally had George Formby in my ear singing "when I'm cleanin' windows". I couldn't help but feel this was a bad stage in the race to be feeling on the edge of injury, and that was why I was so pleased to have the distraction of a woman crossing the road in front of me, as we passed through a rural, picaresque village at something approaching 10am, wearing a pair of thigh length leather stilleto boots, a quite amazing pair of tights that went up to - well, shall we say a "minimalist" skirt. The tights looked as if she simply had wound two thick ribbons up her legs, and somehow they were staying up. I did a double-take, she was trotting to get out of the way of the runners, and I sort of gasped "is she real?". I didn't really realise I'd spoken out loud, but glad I had, because the runner (male) next to me said "Thank god you said that, I thought I might have been hallucinating", and we shared a moment of enjoying the bizarre, and have both being brave enough to acknowledge it.
I further distracted myself by chatting to other runners, who were interested in the 40-40-40 tattoo, and we swapped experiences about our runs. In the meantime, Ashley was quoting Dr Seuss at me, "You're off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting - so get on your way!". The runmeter voice was surprisingly good at Dr Seuss actually. It tries very hard to put meaning into the phrases it reads out, and Dr Seuss is probably the right sort of level for it. At the time, I thought how inspirational it was of Ashley to pick "Oh the Places you'll Go" to quote from, although in hindsight, I realise it was an omen of the hill at the end of the marathon.
Some of the team 40-40-40 had ventured pretty far out to come and support us, and were anxiously looking out for the team tees trotting past, and giving great cheers when they saw us. I was chatting away to some feller when I passed them, and they made a lot of noise, cheering and clapping, waving the banner and shouting "40-40-40" until they could read my name, then cheering me on. It makes a huge difference, and I said "That's all for me, that is" to the chap, and explained about 40-40-40, magnanimously adding "but you can have some"! And I bet it helped all the people around me!
It was a little after that that I saw a couple of really tall blokes that I'd been following for a while. One was wearing a tshirt that said Pie on it, which was making me think of Ian S (who likes pies) and the other had an ironman tshirt on. I can't help it, I have a huge amount of respect, by which I mean I massively fancy, anyone who has done an ironman. So I shouted "IRONMAN" at him as I levelled with him. He looked down at me and said "You could do an ironman". "No I couldn't" I told him, obstinately, but rather pleased. "Yes you could. Everyone told me I was awful at athletics all the way through school, but I've done it, and so can you". "I can't cycle". I told him. "I can run, and I can swim, but I've never done long distance cycling". "So, train" he told me. "You can do it". I laughed and ran on a bit, but it was bothering me. Could I?
The Ians were back online, with Ian C (my facebook sister) telling me that I'd done the first half in under 2 hours, which was worth a tenner right there, and Ian S making me snigger by saying "Run away from the Welshies" - and sure enough, the road markings had Araf, which was sure to happen sooner or later, but I thought I'd do my best to ignore for now. The marathon course looped at the halfway point, and I saw Lucas who must have been ahead of me by a few miles, in the short stretch of road where I ran towards the halfway and he had beaten it. He still (amazingly) had a 40-40-40 balloon strapped to his wrist. I saw a barefoot runner, and had a chat to him about barefoot shoes, which I still love, and then the ironman came past. "Gonna do it then? Ironman?" he called. "YES" I shouted. "Good for you!" Was I? I'm not saying it was binding, but I do feel this was a tipping point in the debate, because up till now, I've rubbished anyone - strike that, everyone - who has implied it might be on the cards.
One of my favourite moments was Summer's contributions to runmeter, which included mentioning who it was (runmeter tells me, although it struggled with her surname) and then "
Also ... how does run meter pronounce this ... flibbadydibbadydoowackywoowoo?" - I can report, it gave it a jolly good go. Not long after this, the Baron complimented me on my steady pace, and reported that my estimated time was 4hours 10. Needless to say, I took great exception to this. I was NOT going at a steady pace, I was slowing down drastically. Moving suddenly from an estimated 4 hours over the first half to 4 hours 10 over the next few miles indicates that you have slowed down A LOT. In fact, I already knew this. It was only the saving grace of Michael telling me about moth-bat evolution (in point of fact, reminding me... he started off with "did you know...?" to which the answer was "yes I did, but I always found it spectacularly fascinating" that stopped me giving up altogether.
Unfortunately at around this time, I had to put the battery booster on my phone, and it somehow managed to interfere with Runmeter, and I didn't hear any more brilliant comments. It was a crying shame because I needed them more than ever, and they were (I later learned) coming in, thick and fast. Meanwhile, the course, at around 22 miles, was mainly looking up, but I don't mean that in a good way. It seemed to be uphill. Kerry had warned me that he'd driven the last part of the course, and "there was a hill", but it seemed unlikely that he'd have come this far out of Chester, so I was worried. I took solace in picking off slow runners, and passing them, which always makes me think of Nigel, as he primed me with this strategy, oh so long ago.
By the time I reached Chester, I was, I think, starting to get pretty deranged. There was a MASSIVE hill in Chester, and without a doubt was the one Kerry was, in fact, referring to. I was shouting at passers-by "WHO PUT THIS HILL HERE?" and openly hating people who had medals around their necks, lucky bastards. The last mile seems so long, and as we wound through back streets of Chester and I fervently hoped I wouldn't have to lap the racecourse again, I desperately hoped the finish would be soon. I somehow got some speed up (look, it's all relative) for the last stretch. My gun time was 4:19 which means it was my second best, and I was very happy with that. No training, it's the new rule.
And it was all worthwhile, because Lucas and his team survived. And look at that smile - it's what it's all about.
Only one last thing to tell - as we retraced our steps from the lovely lunch reception that Lucas had organised, Baron and I watched the last people cross the finish line. It turned out that one of our 40-40-40 members had had a hard, but ultimately successful marathon, as she came in very last, just at 6 hours, undefeated. I skipped down the stairs of the racecourse (with an agility that surprised me, frankly) because I thought it was important that she had someone to welcome her over the finish line - it seemed to be appreciated!
The obvious means of collecting the bike, down by Ferry Meadows, was of course, by running there, so as a kick-start back into training, 5 miles seemed like the perfect (re-)start. It was a fab run out, and a lovely ride back. 
Of course, the downside is that I don't want Deadly Peddly feeling left out or anything - and I haven't got a name for the new beast yet. Although The Beast is kind of working, but I call Frank that sometimes, instead of Pudding. 
