Month: March 2016

“When 26.2 miles just isn’t enough”

~ morethanamara ~ 1 Comment

“You completed a marathon?!”

“Did it hurt?!”

“How are your knees?”

“Did your nipples bleed?!”

“How are your toenails?!”

“You’re not going to do it again are you?!”

Yes. Yes I am.

In fact I would go on to complete more than one more marathon and then start to wonder, what happens after the finish line?

Many encounter “marathon blues”. It creeps up on you when you’re supposed to be resting. That big toe on your left foot isn’t going to heal itself. The calories won’t be replaced (even though this is very easy to do) and the muscles won’t repair if you don’t rest, however you are already starting to forget the pain and look towards your next race.

The feelings and emotions you felt in the lead up to race day, the complete euphoria when you completed your challenge and the satisfaction you had done your best are too much to forget so easily.

Or you could be completely bonkers? (Yet to decide if I fit this.)

So there you are, searching for your next challenge.

I wonder if I could run further?

This was a question I would ask myself daily until I signed up for the first step toward ultra marathons. Two marathons in two days. What a great idea! Yes you read the right.

Two marathons. Two days.

Back to back marathons are a real life thing, and many before and after me will go on to run multiple marathons day after day. Lots will discourage this, the damage to your body (and mind) could be permanent. However with the right frame of mind, respect for your body and a real sense of understanding towards running such distances I honestly believe if you want to do it, you can and you will.

Standing on the start line day one, in complete awe of the runners around me, envious of the streamline bodies and go faster stripes, I did waver between am I ready and take a day at a time. I very nearly fainted when I heard the man next to me quote this would be his 100th marathon to date and there goes the man who’s completed over 1000. (Pretty sure at this point I was lost.)

Wait for it. They asked me what number I was on.

I took a deep breath.

“This is my third and tomorrow will be number four.”

Note to self: Yes completely bonkers.

My statement was met with stares of disbelief but also a pat on the back that gave me a sense of camaraderie between me and the fellow runners. And then we were off.

This time the marathon was different. It was with like minded people, of all shapes and sizes on individual missions of achievement. There wasn’t hundreds of crowd members, there was a well stocked aid station and some close family and friends and the sea. This was a world away from the iconic city marathons everyone knows, but it would be the first of many marathons I would then chose to do out in the open, and ultimately later complete a transition to trail running and fulfil my love for the countryside.

Day one came and went, I ran so hard and strong and went all out to beat my previous time and came home with 30minutes off my personal best! Yippee! These thunder thighs could really move!

The afternoon and evening were met with congratulations and of course FOOD.

Note to self: Food = BIG benefit of running.

I had to refuel the calories I’d burnt over the day, and fuel ahead of tomorrows task all while trying to ignore the boob chafe, the niggling knee and the sheer worry of being able to do it all again within 24 hours of completing day one.

Day two woke with severe after work-out ache that had me hobbling (wobbling) like a womble, breakfast of chocolate pancakes and a feeling of pure horror that I may have to crawl my way round the course.

On the start line, blown about in the fresh sea air, my worries started to fade slightly, and I started to forget about the day before. The start gun went off. My body didn’t want to go anywhere. You may have heard the metaphor of “running through treacle”? This was more like being soaked in it, or rolled in it, like a big giant doughnut (Note the reference to food. I was hungry). Vaguely regretting the burger I ate the night before as part of my “re fuel” I trudged on. By mile 5, it was like the day before had been a dream.

Mile 17 onwards I struggled.

I developed a walk run strategy, I didn’t mind, I had a finish line to get to (and a hot bath). I ran/walked with fellow runners and I soon began to appreciate the sheer mental strength needed to ultra run. Your mind needs occupying, the self doubt needs squishing with every step, and you do anything you can to take your mind off the pain in your calfs.

I made it to the finish. I made it there with heavy legs, a rumbling tummy (less guilt for the burger) and a sense of relief. I had completed what I set out to achieve. I wanted a challenge. I wanted to prove that my body was capable of going further. I wanted satisfaction in the knowledge I could do it.

I had taken the first step into the unknown ultra world. In some comparisons this achievement would turn out to be small, due to the break in between races. It wasn’t small for me. It was the start of a bigger yearning to travel by foot, further.

I wanted to prove to myself, that even though I didn’t look like an elite, I still had the strength and discipline it takes to take on these distances. I was in control of my own journey, I was running my own race. I was exhausted.

The days after my 52mile journey came with aches and pains and as quickly as they came around, they left. I rested, I followed advice given by the more experienced and I recovered. I got my marathon blues, I dealt with them by signing up to smaller races and more marathons.

But one questioned remained.

Could I go further nonstop?

 

 

 

“Running a marathon: Your First”

~ morethanamara ~ 2 Comments

26.2 miles?

Yep that sounds like fun!

On foot?!

Oh go on then!

How hard could it be?!

22 half’s, 12 full and 4 ultra marathons later… yep it’s painful.

No one tells you the truth. No one tells you the potential impending loss of your perfectly manicured toes nails. I mean your feet obviously want to go that far, don’t they?

What better way to spend a Sunday morning than running the streets of London (Please note this is in relation to my first marathon in 2012).

Once you have run this distance, your body will forget the pain, your mind will remember, your feet will recover, but the sense of overwhelming achievement over rules any doubt you ever had you could do it.

One of the first achievements is making it to the start line of a marathon. Take my first for example: London, April, 2012.

I battled my way through a Runners World “Beginners” marathon plan. 16 weeks, of no drinking, unlimited kit washing and a constant glow that can only be described as a beetroot face.

In the lead up I took myself to organised races, trudged weekly around the local lakes in the rain and gave up painting my eyebrows on to save having to take shares out in my favourite make-up brand.

I endured pounding the streets of my home town daily and was convinced an alarm went off somewhere to indicate when my lungs were going to give way and I needed to walk. This would always coincide with someone I knew driving past and beeping.

I honestly think their is a niche in the market for motivational drivers when marathon training. I mean you could hire someone to drive alongside every Sunday Runday, to shout motivational quotes, play Eye of The Tiger and throw the occasional banana?!

Note to Self: Start this business when retired from running.

I spent years and years watching the London Marathon  on TV from the comfort of the sofa. Admiring the elites and scanning the crowds for the person I knew was running that year. I was convinced each year I would do it, and there I was, 2012 heading straight towards what would be 26.2 miles of pure enjoyable torture.

There I was, on the start line, squished between a rhino and a pink lady apple genuinely debating wether I needed the loo again or I had suddenly developed a complete bladder malfunction.

I had made it, I had followed the plan, I had completed the long runs, I mean 20miles is nearly the whole way right?! 6.2 more… phaa! I’ve got this!

Then we start. Atmosphere is AMAZING!! I am really doing this! And gradually forgetting I need a wee. Everyone is smiling, cheering and all of a sudden I literally feel like a running goddess.

The sun is shining, I am wearing my charity vest with sheer pride and I am gliding along the first few miles confident in the knowledge I beat my fundraising target. I am thinking ahead, my proud family and friends were going to be somewhere along the route to cheer me on and this is going to be so much fun!

Ultimately it is fun. It’s 26.2 miles of a game called “I can and I will”. Your mind is your toughest audience. It will tell you the socks you are wearing are wrong because you can suddenly feel a small pain on the big toe of your left foot. (Gotta love a blister). It will explain to you as you run through half way that your sports bra is really flattening your chest and yes that is the start of chafe under your arm. It will remind you of all the times you had “just one more” biscuit with your cuppa and that they are suddenly weighing you down.

Your mind will then shift between “oooo water station!” to “a womble most definitely ran past me”. From “whose stupid idea was this?” to listing all the reasons why you are.

For me it was dedicating this champion distance to my Mum. Mum had been ill, and running a marathon and raising money for the charity that supported her and our family was very little in comparison. I wanted to challenge myself to achieve.

20 miles passed and this was it. The never seen before 6.2 miles to go. The unknown territory my feet, knees, lungs were begging me not to go through. My mind won.

Just before I hit the final 800m my mind wanted me to slow down, she said “come on Jen! You ran all this way you deserve a walk!” Hell yes I did! Back at 22 miles the little walk I had seemed like a long distance memory and the finish line seemed like a cruel joke.

Just as I started to slow down I had an epiphany, a voice started to tell me “come on!!! You can do it! And you don’t want your finishers photo next to the apple!” I looked left, face to face with a pink lady.

Running a distance that many just simply wouldn’t even contemplate is an achievement in  itself. Putting yourself through training, however big or small, requires commitment and respect.

Not every marathon you run will have the brass band to see you off, or the throngs of people handing out jelly babies. Not all come with fancy dress, or shining sun, but they all come with one thing, achievement.

The journey you make is all in the lead up to your race. The marathon is the finishing lap of this journey and no matter how many times you tell yourself you can’t do it, that one time you do it will stay with you for the rest of your life.

I crossed that finish line, not up there with the elites but up there with the pure satisfaction I made it.

I finished the race a different person to the one at the beginning. I respected my wobbly body and size 12 frame for carrying me through the miles. I appreciated the people around me, who were challenging themselves for so many different reasons that not one was more important than the other.

I was a marathon runner.

I did what many had told me I wouldn’t.

“There will be days you don’t think you can run a marathon,

There will be a lifetime of knowing you have.”