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.”