running

Where Has My Core Gone?

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment

I started this blog purely to get my thoughts down, use my brain creatively and if anything share the message that if I can run… ANYONE CAN.

Since falling pregnant and then subsequently giving birth to a rather large healthy boy I started to turn my thoughts to “How can I get back into running?” Which then turned into, “How can I lose the baby weight I gained?” This then ultimately turned into, “How do I lose my Mum Tum?”

But why?

Recently (the last few months) I have been super quiet on the writing front. This is because bringing up a small human takes every minute of every day and all my brain power.

The running is still there, just less frequent. But I’m still running regularly.

Why?

Because it’s what I do. I ran before and I want to run now. Not for weight loss, not for my size, not because society expects us to “spring back” into shape and not because it’s January.

I am a runner and I like to run.

I have tried to write a few times, and it’s come out as something about my size and weight.

To which I have then deleted.

Again, Why?

Why do we as women feel the need to justify our bodies to the world? Why do we feel, especially after having a baby, the need to “spring back” into shape.

Over the last 8 months since giving birth I have swayed between being completely comfortable with my body, to looking in the mirror and wondering where my body has gone. (This is after someone asked me how I intended to lose the baby weight?)

If you can give birth and slip straight into your pre pregnancy clothes, I salute you.

If like me, your body is a different shape or size, and the pre pregnancy clothes are not quite making it up your thighs I salute you too.

Either way you need to remember your body went through a major transformation and produced another human. It takes time to heal, and everyone is different.

To use a running pun… it’s a marathon not a sprint.

I can currently just about make it round a 10km run without collapsing at the end, this is tough to get my brain around after the many marathons and ultra marathons I have completed. However, I know for now, it’s ok for my body.

And what you do with yours is ok for you.

My main message here is give yourself a little self love and time. If you feel like getting out there then do, I can completely recommend exercise for the feel good factor, but don’t put the pressure on yourself.

And if you feel like staying in the warm and resting, I can completely recommend that too!

I was asked yesterday, whilst attempting sit ups, where has my core gone? And right on cue… my 8 month old son crawled past smiling.

THAT IS WHERE MY CORE IS.

And doesn’t it look bloody happy over there!

The Mum Tum Run

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment


After completing a 5km run this morning, that resulted in a face stuck on a vibrant shade of beetroot for about 5 hours after, I felt the need to review my running so far since starting my slow but steady come back.

I have learnt a few things I thought I should share when it comes to running post pregnancy.

It’s not just your body that changes, but your mindset too.

Firstly my body.

I have never been a super duper skinny runner. This is one of the massive perks of running: you can be any size or shape you god damn want!

However, as my body expanded through pregnancy to the size of a small country, it’s not only bigger than it was, but also far wobblier than ever before. So the key to making sure I don’t feel like a bag of jelly plodding along? Wear supportive kit!

I contemplated vacuum packing myself into it, but have settled for a respectable pair of running tights, a good fitting sports bra (x 2), and a running top that doesn’t ride up into a crop top as soon a I set off.

On my feet, a supportive pair of trainers rather than the barefoot runners I wore pre pregnancy. More cushion for the feet is key here to soften the blow of the extra weight on the ground. And my joints.

I touched on the subject of the sports bra situation in my last post. Still currently wearing double the support in the form of two over shoulder boulder holders. This seems to be working nicely as the mammaries stay firmly put and so far so good with no movement, pain and no issues with milk production being affected after they are compressed. Any sports bra wearing ladies will know though, getting out of a sweaty sports bra can be tough going, getting out of two is even tougher and requires a lot of leverage. (And a Crane).

The top I have been wearing is all but loose. This is for a number of reasons.

Since being pregnant I have turned into a walking furnace. No matter the time of day, the weather or what I am wearing, I am at a body temperature of an active volcano, so wearing a loose fitting top not only hides a multitude of wobbly bits but keeps me cool. Comfort is key here, and running while having to pull down a tight top that rides up over the Mum Tum is just not fun or productive.

For the Mum Tum situation my running tights have been all but amazing at helping secure everything in place. I have ensured they are high waisted, and this then acts as the support needed for my stomach.

Yep it’s still there. A lot smaller than it was now William is on the outside, however it’s also not as firm. At all. I had an emergency C section and this has created a small indent along the scar, which then created a slight overhang of delightfully decorated skin, scattered with a small selection of stretch marks. Yippee! 

Now, please let me outline a few things about my Mum Tum.

I am ridiculously proud of it! I mean, my tummy grew a human! How cool is that!?! So giving it some extra support is all I can do when wanting to exercise.

The running tights come up high enough that my tummy is firmly in place and as these last weeks have shown me, it also means my stomach is wobbling less each time I run.

We will skim over the “but what knickers are you wearing?!”… however I do wear them when running. (Lot’s of my running friends don’t due to chaffing however I like the extra security). The two things I have learnt from todays run when it comes to this: no camels come looking for their toes and I am now another size smaller in said knickers, which I see as progress towards running my body back into shape.

Now my mind.

I have spent many a year, worrying and obsessing over my weight. I once even used running as a way to keep my weight below a healthy balance for my frame. (All I learnt from this was I was bloody miserable).

Over the years I have learnt that my body is meant to be a certain shape, and a certain size. I also learnt that once I found that size I was able to achieve running goals I never thought I would. I have learnt to appreciate what I put into my body, and with some dedication (and a lot of sweat) and appreciation to the sport I have gone on to achieve more than I ever thought I would.

I now have a new appreciation for my body when it comes to running. I appreciate and am grateful it gave me this wonderful gift in the shape of a now very chubby baby, but I also appreciate I need to look after it more than ever because of him.

I am determined to run and exercise as its what makes me me, however my driver is my gorgeous baby boy. I will do it slowly but surely, I will laugh (and write about the jelly belly and thunder thighs) and have fun as I do so. I will have a bit of me time now and then, and I will appreciate every step I can take.

My post pregnancy running journey will take time, “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” as they say. But this wobbly, plodding Mum is determined!

There will be days I look in the mirror and wish I had the runners body I used to have, but most days, I will look in the mirror, be grateful I can still run, see my Mum Tum and love it.

 

 

 

 

 

Run: Mummy: Run?

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment

Whilst standing there in the changing room, top off, mammaries out, with kind old ‘Brenda of the Bra Department’  holding out the next sports bra for me to try, I suddenly felt a strange tingling sensation in my boobs.

(Nope wasn’t Brenda causing it)

I look down and wow… there are two fountains of milk literally pouring out of me, down my tummy, and onto the floor. (Aptly named Squirty Squirty Left Boob is actually out in full force and cascading down the mirror.)

Question: If my boobs can’t cope with 5 mins out of the breast pads how will they ever cope running along in a race?

Will I EVER run again?

After nearly 8 years of running I would normally worry about chafing, or blisters, or even sweat patches (That cause the chafing or blisters).

Race prep would be carbo loading, route planning and picturing crossing the finish line in one piece.

And here I am, after running 1000s of miles, standing in a changing room debating how I am going to carry my new feeding machines round just 5km the very next day.

FYI I’ve had a gorgeous baby, his name is William and he is a 7 week old breast feeding milk machine that we love dearly. (And ran a half marathon 3 days before I realised he was on his way).

You may have seen from a previous blog I ran up to just before 28 weeks pregnant. I loved it. But as the pregnancy progressed so did my weight gain, hot flushes, toilet stops increased and generally I felt like an ever expanding waddling walrus (picture it).

So running 1000s of km was put on hold while my womb expanded bringing our bundle of joy into the world.

Fast forward to 7 weeks postpartum and I am eager to get back out there. (If you are my doctor please stop reading now. I am fully aware my 8 week check is a week away.)

I did have an emergency C section, so my decision to attempt a run hasn’t come lightly. The last few weeks I have been walking daily to build up to this. I have been careful to select clothing that didn’t aggravate my scar in anyway and I have made sure I have kept a close eye on the healing process.

This has involved wearing knickers my nan would be proud of, along with an array of trousers MC Hammer is sure to ask for soon.

So these pre run worries are more, how will I  strap everything in? Coupled with what effect has pregnancy had on my body? Will I remember how to run?

The second question is the most important and the biggest to get my head round. My memory tells me I can just walk out the door and run. However I know I have a long way to go, and my fitness isn’t the same. (Worth it though William!)

So the challenge begins, with a local 5km round the park to see how I fair.

Once I had stopped the fountain of milk leakage and selected the two bras I was going to have to wear. (Yes you read right). I was going to wear two, I had all the gear and no idea.

Armed with my new kit I headed home to work out how on earth I was going to be at the start for 9am? How I would feel? What about my pregnancy weight gain? I haven’t lost it all yet, (unfortunately not one of those that just ping back to pre pregnancy shape).

Should I run with William and the pram?

I didn’t actually run with William or the pram.

William watched with his Dad while eating a bacon sandwich. (His dad not him.)

At the start I pitched myself, my two bras and my “Mum Tum” towards the back of the field. I told myself I can run the flat and walk the hills. Thats a start right? And this isn’t far off a technique I have used in the later stages of an ultra. I was thinking like a runner already?! (My baby brain had retained some information after all!)

Annnnnnnnd we were off.

One foot actually moved in front of the other and I was still breathing! I was really running. The first km came and went. My legs felt good, I took it steady and I felt like I was really back. I HAD MISSED THIS.

About half way I was suddenly conscious of how I really felt, and it certainly wasn’t as fit as I used to be. I was breathing hard and all I could do was think will I actually make it?!

Doubt set in! Had I tried this too soon?  I have run 100km how can I struggle so much with just 5? My weight gain since falling pregnant was slowing me down.

I gained a grand total of 4 stone while pregnant!! William was a healthy 9lb baby and I suffered from Polyhydramnios (Extra fluid). Ive since lost 2.5 Stone naturally and the next 1.5 stone is hanging around my trusty thunder thighs.

It was these thunder thighs that were feeling heavy, and plodding along was the way forward.

But that’s the thing. I was still moving forward. Albeit rather slowly, (borderline backwards) but I was still going.

Just like when I ran at 27 weeks pregnant I was at the back of the pack. (Party at the back as they say!). There was a really supportive bunch around me, whilst I walked the hills, all throwing supportive phrases my way and to each other.  There was only 2 hills but on that second lap I was sure they had got steeper!

I eventually made it to the home straight… I found the energy to get my Mum Tum in gear and move along a little quicker. With the finish line in sight I plodded along and finally made it!

(Thank goodness).

Now this 5km wasn’t about time and how quickly I could get round. It was about actually making it round. It was about doing something I love that makes me, me. It was about appreciating that my body has gone through a massive change and is in a different place right now. Appreciating more than ever my thunder thighs, my new Mum Tum and my abilities.

My body made it!

Afterwards I headed straight for the car. Awaiting for me was my gorgeous boy with his gorgeous Daddy ready to take me home. I got in the car, beetroot faced, sweaty, undid my two bras and thought…

SHE’S BACK.

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Hannah: Your first marathon: Making The Breast Of It

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment


An open letter to my younger sister:

Dear Hannah,

Just one more sleep to go until you make the 26.2 mile journey around London, on foot.

You’ve got your race number, you have your timing chip and your kit.

You’ve run and run and run over these last few months no matter what has been thrown at you.

You’ve completed the main race already and tomorrow is just your victory lap.

It’s emotional.

Your brain is currently going over and over everything you have done or not done and analysing every single step you have taken since the “You’re In!” Magazine dropped through the door.

It’s just your brain playing tricks.

For you, at times, this happens more than most. Your brain will tell you can’t but in your heart you know you can.

Your body has come so far, because you have looked after it. It has changed and morphed into the body that will carry you to the finish line.

You have gone against the self doubt, and become stronger than you will ever realise.

Remind yourself how strong you are, when you think to finishing the races you have completed along the way.

They are more than the medals you have received, they are huge leaps in your confidence and your body showing you what you can really do.

The 21 miles you went off and ran, just like that, because you had trained to do so, was the confirmation you are ready for tomorrow.

When your mind is playing tricks, recall on how you felt when you saw how much distance you had crossed.

Tell yourself that no matter what has gone on, at home, at work or life in general, you are still here and you are doing it.

You are and will be in the 1% of the whole population that has completed a marathon.

You will have the blisters, the aches, the pains to show for it.

But the memories and the knowledge will stay with you for the rest of your life.

Your body will forget one day what you have put it through, but your brain will thank you forever for what you have achieved.

The marathon isn’t for everyone, but applying yourself to a mammoth task, takes time, strength and discipline.

You have all of these.

You’re doing it to support the Women around you. You’re doing it to show others that Breast Cancer will be beaten.

But ultimately you will do this, and show yourself, you’re more powerful and stronger than you think.

No matter what anyone else may say, you are ready.

Keep your mind clear, your heart open and your feet moving.

You will never forget how it feels to cross that line.

You deserve the world and tomorrow it is your day.

Love always,

Jenny

“There will be days you don’t think you can run a marathon, but a lifetime of knowing you have”

Running/Bumping along a new route.

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment

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I have always appreciated how far I could push my body when it came to running.

I have pushed it mile after mile to complete so many races and runs that I have lost count.

Running has seen me through so many good times.

Great times in fact.

And all the tough times in between that everyday life brings.

I never imagined that at my running peak I would be running 100km and living to tell the tale, and on the opposite side I never thought I would go from running 100km to struggling around just 5 of them.

However, my reason is not through injury or lack of motivation, but pregnancy!

I am now nearly 33 weeks pregnant, and over the moon to be carrying my first.

My last race was a 5km Parkrun at 27 weeks, where for the first time in any race I found myself at the back of the pack.

This is one experience that I will in in fact cherish along with the big achievements I have managed.

The support and encouragement from the spectators and other runners was just overwhelming!

“Go on the pregnant lady!” Rang out as I eventually crossed the finish line ultimately last for the first time in my whole running career so far.

Just when I had started to think my running days were over there I was, actually running (fast walking) through 5km and living to tell the tale.

I have a huge sense of pride in my body. It is currently growing another human being and yet it is still letting me achieve my goals, albeit slightly different versions.

At nearly 33 weeks pregnant I have put my running shoes to rest for the time being, and switched my exercise to a moderate regular swim, Aquanatal class, and lots of walking.

The knowledge and experience I have learnt over the years of running and testing my body has meant I know when to rest and I know when to look after myself.

My current marathon goal is to deliver this bundle of joy I have been graced with, safely and healthily.

And when the time is right, I will come back, to not just run for me, but run for the new life I have created.

I want to show them, it doesn’t matter how fast, slow, fat, thin, first, last and everything in between, just do you.

Be the best version of yourself you can be.

 

 

 

 

Trying something new never hurt anybody.

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment

I’m a runner.

I run to keep fit.

I run to eat cake.

I run to fundraise.

I have body hang ups and downs like every woman who walks the planet.

I run to show those women they can run too.

I have worries and concerns.

I worry about my worries.

I work hard.

I don’t like failure.

I learn lessons and move on.

This weekend saw me try something new, switching my running shoes for a surf board.

The open road for the open sea.

I last visited this particular beach 22 years previous and all that had changed, was me.

I used to be worried about the unknown.

What if I couldn’t make it?

What if I don’t succeed?

And here I was, squished into a wet suit, without a care in the world that it accentuated all the wobbly body bits I tend to hide.

Board in hand, feet in sand and water swirling towards me.

I could do this.

Safe in the knowledge that I am trying.

I am trying something new, “throwing caution to the wind”, “giving it  a go” and “what will be will be”.

Being in the open water, no matter where on the planet seems to bring a sense of freedom.

There are no barriers.

No hills to overcome, no mountains to climb.

The waves can crash over you and pass you by.

They may sometimes be too strong, too big, too powerful.

They may make you cough and splutter, they may take your breath away.

Or you can chose to try and ride the wave, go with it, see where you end up.

Trying wont hurt.

No matter how many times that wave crashes over you, there will always be that one you catch.

That one wave that takes you soaring along to the shore.

You will feel that sense of achievement, that you didn’t give up, no matter how hard it was.

So whether it’s on land or sea…

You just have to wait for the right wave.

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Determination: Why I just wont quit.

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment

Determination: noun (TRYING HARD)

“The ability to continue trying to do something, although it is very difficult.”

My last race didn’t end at the finish line and I felt, even now at times, I had let myself and others down.

Am I a quitter?

No.

In life I have one rule.

Do not quit.

I apply this to everything I do, I will keep pushing and driving myself no matter what it takes to achieve.

I’ve been described as relentless.

I have this inner need to succeed, and If I say I am going to do something, I must see it through.

So how am I a not a quitter if I chose to finish my race 20km short of the finish line?

It was one of the toughest decisions to make, I didn’t want to, but I knew it was right.

If I had carried on I was risking my health, and without that I may never have seen the finish line, but I also may have never seen another start.

I didn’t quit, I just postponed the finish.

I not only ran 80km on one of the hottest days I have attempted to run, but I did it 5 hours quicker than the previous time I ran that distance.

More importantly I got to run again.

I have reflected and analysed over and over and still come up with the same answers…

What will I do differently next time?

It took me exactly seven days to get back out there and run.

I laced up my trainers and took myself off into the woods and countryside and just ran.

I ran the trails of familiarity, I ran the hills and pushed up and up until I reached the top.

There I stopped and stood, looking down at the path I had just snaked up, and breathed deeply.

Oxygen filled my gasping lungs and I knew I was back.

I had dusted myself off, I had tried again and I succeeded.

Quitting would be to not run again.

Quitting would be to not see another race through.

And that just wont happen.

In non running life so many things get in the way of our plans, but it’s how we over come them that makes us.

It’s not always at the finish line that you achieve.

The journey along the way is where the achievements lie.

The learnings, the experience and the growth. The overcoming of obstacles and finding your way to be the best version of yourself is where it’s at.

It may not be your original plan, it may not be the first route you set out on and it may take longer than you wished.

But one things for sure, by not stopping, you will always get there.

When 100km turns into 80km: It just wasn’t to be.

~ morethanamara ~ Leave a comment

As I write this, I sit here with severe nausea, pains in places I didn’t know could hurt on my body, tears in my eyes and a burnt face.

Yesterday I attempted a 100km race.

A distance I have completed before.

24 hours previous to me writing this I was setting off along the Ridgeway to complete 100km by foot in what would turn out to be one of the hottest days of the year.

I felt strong, prepared and free.

I felt determined, at home in the countryside.

I had the most amazing support crew, my Mum, Paul and Hannah. Ready and waiting at pit stops to see me  come bounding in, top up my suntan lotion and feed me.

The first half flew by in a sea of blue skies and rolling hills.

50km I ate and refuelled ready for the second half. I ate pasta and fudge and drank sugary tea. All the things I had trained with previously.

I knew my body and what it needed.

My feet needed re taping, my socks needed changing. I saw the medic for sudocream for places we need not discuss. And my sister Hannah will never recover from.

I left 50km slightly emotional at the sudocream incident but in high spirits. I kissed all goodbye and headed off to 60km.

60km I needed to change my shoes. The pain in my feet was starting to creep in.

I ploughed on to 70km to meet the crew and change my shoes. From this I felt I had a new lease of life and felt great in more comfy runners. I upped my salt intake and continued.

I set off waving and cheering.

Half way between 70km-80km I suddenly came over with a wave of nausea.

I tried to convince myself I was just imagining it.

How could I feel so good one minute and so bad the next?

I ploughed on, starting to feel unsteady on my feet. I could feel myself swaying from side to side as I was now plodding along.

I suddenly felt extremely disorientated and for the first time questioned my abilities. The negative thoughts creep up on you without warning.

How can I do this? Why am I doing this?

Then it happened. I was violently ill at the side of the path.

All the fuelling I had done throughout the race was there, coming out of my body.

Dehydrating me.

I just wanted to lie down so bad, but with a few more kilometers to go to 80km I pushed on.

Daylight was slowly drifting away as I came into the check point.

I saw the medic and I tried everything I could to feel better.

My face was burning, but I felt cold.

My stomach was churning and I was struggling to keep water down.

My head was telling me to man up and move on, but my heart was telling me it was time.

I finished my 100km race in tears at the 80km stop.

One of the hardest decisions a runner will have to make and a memory that will last a life time.

Why would I think to keep going when so ill?

I have a yearning and determination for completion. When I commit, I commit wholeheartedly and I don’t like failure.

In time, as my body recovers, and my emotions get back on track, I will look at this experience as one of learning.

I know I did my absolute best and I know 80km, is still an achievement.

I will reminisce all the positives, the people and the scenery. That many will never experience.

I will go on, I will encourage others to achieve their goals, and I will always advise, when you know in your heart, you just know.

“There will be days you don’t think you can run a marathon, there will be a life time of knowing you have”

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100km… On Foot

~ morethanamara ~ 2 Comments

It’s 2014.

And a 100km lays between me and Brighton race course.

I’ve just been dropped (literally) at the start line in Richmond and I haven’t got a clue what lays ahead.

It’s 5am and thunder and lightning and I’m standing in a tent worrying if I have bought enough stuff to see me through and panicking about the loo roll in my backpack getting wet.

I have too much stuff.

I had dreamt of running this race for days, I had pictured how I would feel at the finish line over and over and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed.

The race started, I set off early to start covering miles of mud. Disposing of my coat within the first 10miles as I was too hot and the rain collecting it in was weighing me down.

I had my doubts from the start, I felt under prepared. I was tired from hours at work, I hadn’t rested and I had under fuelled.

I had no supporters to see me off, my now ex fiancé had dropped me at the start and driven off to get back to bed.

My Mum would be 100km away in Brighton.

Trudging through the mud, was tiring. It was too wet to listen to music and the rain at times was so hard I could hardly see.

Swimming goggles were missed off the kit list.

I made it to 56km, and watched in horror at runners eating piles of pasta, hot dogs, bread, cheese and … milk!

Baffled as to how they were going to run on all that food, I knew best of course. I didn’t need all the carbs. That would surely make me sick.

I pressed on in pain. I made it to 67km and proceeded to drop to the floor in a crying heap giving in, and pulling out the race.

The overwhelming feeling of failure was too hard to bare. I was put on a train and cried all my way to Brighton, where I was met with cheers and well done for getting as far as I did.

Dehydrated, hungry, exhausted I didn’t deserve this.

Whilst falling asleep in my Dads car, between tears, I utter the words “I’m never doing that again” for the first and last time.

Fast forward to 2015…

I was back on the start line in Richmond. Secretly two days after that awful DNF I signed up again for the London to Brighton 100km Challenge. I had unfinished business and I just had to go back.

This time however I was ready, I was determined more than ever in my life, and this time I was going back to prove to myself I can do anything.

I was well rested, I had taken the week off before the race to carb load, and check my kit a billion times.

My parents and sister were with me on the start line, they would meet me half way later and the support was immense.

The sun was shining, my bag on my back was half the size, I had no coat and I had my favourite pair of trainers on.

I headed off from Richmond beaming. (There is photo evidence for this).

I was looking around, taking in the scenery, I was smiling!!! The course was drier, the hills were still there, but this time my head was there too.

I made it to the half way point, to my mum, dad and sister cheering me on and seeing me in. I sat with them, I ate! Tomato pasta never tasted so good.

My sister was the best kit changer you could ask for, whilst eating she was on her hands and knees changing my socks, taping up my toes. She took my top off me and replaced it with a clean one, sprayed me fresh and wiped the salt from my face. I was ready to continue.

I waved goodbye with tears in my eyes, but happy tears.

I made it to 67km, this was it. Could I go on?

I had my knee taped up, ate again and set off into the unknown.

From 67km I was on my own and for about 5miles I didn’t see another single person. Then up ahead I could see three male runners. Little did I know at this point these three would make the event, and become friends for life.

I caught up with Ian, Josh and Chris. We battled along together, getting to know each other, making jokes, encouraging each other and sharing stories as to why we were here putting ourselves through this.

As the sun started to go down we came into 80km together, and made a pact to finish as one from here on in.

With jacket potatoes fuelling us from here, we left with head torches and glow sticks. 88km was the next stop as night started to fall.

We reached 87km, by this point I was in pain and text my mum to tell her my knee hurt so bad. Mum replied with “maybe think about stopping”.

My reply: “No way”.

And with that I threw my phone back into my rucksack and headed off up to Ditching Beacon. An extremely steep 2km incline, in the dark. It was tough, mentally and physically. But the support with our little team together we made it up to the top.

Running down hill the other side was tough on the feet, tough on the legs and tough on the body. The constant pounding against the hard ground sent shocks through my knee.

94km was meant to be our next stop, we missed it. In the dark we didn’t see it and decided to press on.

I had decided at 95km I would message my parents to tell them I was nearly there. I missed the 95km mark also. And 96km.

97Km mark popped up and overwhelmed that we were further along than I thought I got my phone out whilst jogging.

My phone was flashing with message upon message, missed calls and people asking for urgent replies. The Action Challenge tracking centre had been calling. Along with Mum, and friends and family.

I briefly read a message sharing condolences that I hadn’t made it!

WHAT!!

In a panic I rang the control centre. A young girl answered relieved to hear from me! From 87km, my tracker had failed and everyone thought I had withdrawn. Hell no!!

This gave me all the push I needed to get to the end. I was going to do this no matter what.

Ian, Josh and I pushed ahead and the race course came into sight in the dark. Both had wanted to finish the race with a sprint. We hugged our goodbyes and they ran the last bit ahead, with the promise to meet at the end.

I hobbled, jogging along with my bad knee. As the flags of the finish line came into view a voice in the dark shouted “Come on Jenny”.

My sister Hannah, my number one supporter, ran the last 100yards with me.

I had made it.

I cried.

The next few moments are still a blur, and to this day I still don’t know how I travelled all that way, but I do know I was always going to get there.

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The one image I will alway treasure, is my family rushing towards me, relieved I was ok, relieved I was there and sharing my experience.

Running 100km is tough. It is a mental challenge that will push you to your limits. It will test your determination, it will test your stamina and strength.

But it will also test your memory as it is an achievement that will stay with you for the rest of your life.

 

“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?