I am officially a "runner"!

I did it! I completed the Rudolph run and even more impressively the Half Marathon.

Both were blighted by ill health annoyingly. I have only had two colds all winter, the first was a week or so before the Rudolph run. I made a good recovery but was still struggling a little with a blocked up nose. It was a bitterly cold day down by Southend sea front, about 5 degrees, as I recall. I was nice and warm once I started running even though I only had a vest top on. Darren on the other hand was nigh on frozen standing waiting for me to finish. I completed the 5 miles in 50:47 which I was quite pleased with considering the breathing issues.

The second cold was actually Flu and kept me in bed for two days. It struck around 6 weeks before the Half Marathon. I had got up to 18km in training (the race would be just over 21k - I train in km even though this race is measured in miles, a bi-product of doing 5k's for so long). I didn't do any running for about 3 weeks as breathing was tough. I tried a couple of bike rides just to get something in but it was a struggle. By the time I felt well enough it was getting close to the race and I didn't want to over do things or risk injury so I just got in a couple of 5k runs. I was really hoping to have gotten in a couple of 18-20k runs before race day but it wasn't to be. I would just have to hope that adrenaline and pure determination would be enough to get me to the finish line.

Race day was very favourable with the weather. It was colder and wetter than it had been the weekend before but thankfully the rain stopped and the sun came out shortly before I started and didn't change until we were in the car and well on our way home. For that, I am eternally grateful. I don't know how I would have faired in worse weather, especially if it were windy.

We had a ten minute walk from the stadium to the start line (which I was not impressed with). Olympic medal winner Mo Farrah sounded the horn at the start line and we all set off. It felt like literally every single runner was passing me, but I had my tracker app feeding information through my ears and I was very conscious of my pace. I knew I must not get tempted in trying to keep up with them. I saw some official race pacers who were labelled as "2:15 pacers". I knew I would be 2:30 or over so I was happy to keep them in my sights for a while. I know that my pace slows towards the back end of the race (which is something I'm working on). Before too long I could see the soaring arch of Wembley and we weaved our way towards it. As we came into the underground car parks of the stadium there was a thunderous roar dwarfing any sounds coming through my headphones. Just as I wondered what it could be, I turned a corner and there were a whole bank of drummers and I imagined that I was a player getting ready to run onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd. And then, there it was, the pitch in front of me, the seating surrounding me like an all encompassing hug. I was smiling, which the race photographers managed to miss it seems. Within seconds it was over and it was all about the homeward slog. The trouble now was that I had made a note of a couple of the hills I had enjoyed running down, knowing full well that I would now have to run up them. As I approached the worst one I tried to clear my thoughts, get my head down and power on up. As I did so one of my very favourite songs "Mr Brightside" came through my ears giving me just the boost I needed. I started to think about the 2:15 pacers, who were now long gone into the distance. That was not an issue but it occurred to me that I had seen faster pacers but I had not seen any slower pacers. Were there any slower pacers? Perhaps they didn't bother with anyone slower than 2:15? As I passed the 10 mile marker my question was answered and I watched 2:30 pacers pass me. I was ok with that. I had 3.1 miles to go and I wasn't too far off the pace. I knew though that I was only going to get slower and hoped I would not grind to a halt. By the time I got to 12 miles all I wanted to do was walk. I knew if I walked though that it would just be longer until the pain was over and it would only get tougher and tougher. I tried to walk for a few seconds once or twice but my muscles were so tight I actually couldn't straighten my legs enough to walk properly. I stopped to stretch a couple of times then cracked on with it. As I came back round into the Saracen's stadium towards the finish line the course took us across some grass which was a little muddy and uneven. Within seconds of setting foot on it my left foot went into a painful cramp, unable to deal with contouring to the bumps. Thankfully I managed to shake it off. What bad luck it would have been to have to limp over the finish line now! As I came towards the finish line I looked up to the clock which was reading 2:45. I knew my chip time would be a little under that. Then I looked for Darren and found him. I found a little energy for a wave and a smile as he filmed me then over the finish line with my hands in the air. I was aware that there was a rubber bump across the finish line hiding wires and it was an effort to lift my feet over it. Having readjusted my stride, I found myself slightly off skew for a second rubber strip. I nearly tripped over it and as I corrected myself I could feel another cramp shooting up my calf muscle. I managed to walk and keep it at bay, again fearful of an unglamorous ending to my race!

And that was it! Done! The official chip time was 2:43:20.

When I was younger, and going for job interviews, I would always struggle if asked "what is your greatest achievement" or "tell me about something you are proud of". Now I can answer easily. Despite Doctors telling me not to run if it hurts, I took control of my life and my destiny. I didn't need gym memberships, personal trainers or anyone else to motivate me. I got off my butt and done it by myself, for myself. Now I am a "runner" and this runner ran a Half Marathon!

Remember: its not a "Half" of anything, its a "Whole" 13.1 mile race.