It’s hard to believe that six months ago the London Marathon magazine arrived at my house telling me I had got a place. I was thrilled, and very lucky, getting in at the second time of asking.
I hadn’t fully recovered from my ACL injury and wasn’t actually running cry much, not that I was going to let that stop me. My training started well, I was conscious that I need to keep to what they plan was telling me, it was hard at the start, I weighed 12 stone and was struggling with 10 minute miles. The running kept giving me niggling injuries, but I rested at the right times. The winter training was tough, I kept getting ill, but again the enforced rest seemed to help. Even at the beginning of this year I found the running a struggle, but I was still getting the miles in and slowly getting fitter.
Since October I had been running around 30 miles a month, but in February things began to feel like they were falling into place, I ran 53 miles including my first half marathon for over 10 years, I then managed 15 miles. March saw me hit 80 miles, including a 20 miler into London, I’m not going to lie, it really hurt and I have had seven days off after it, partly to recover and partly because I’ve just moved house.
My final run should have been 22 miles, it only ended up being 8 – despite preparing well I just lost all energy and knew there was no way back, if I hadn’t had managed the 20 miles I’d have been more worried, but knowing I had done a big distance meant I didn’t feel too bad.
I’ve been writing this blog post for so long that I have had to add extra sections to it, today saw me run 10 miles instead of 13, again a little disappointing but not the end of the world – with only 13 days to go I just want them to go as quickly as possible so I can enjoy the day!