It’s been a while……

6th December 2019 ➡️ 7th June 2020

6 months between these 2 pictures. In the one on the left I’d spent most of the weekend in A&E in absolute agony, being poked, X-rayed and scanned, before being sent home doped up to the eyeballs on morphine. I don’t remember much of that weekend, but it marked the start of a very scary period of time, one where I couldn’t dress myself, getting up from a chair took about 5 minutes, and I couldn’t sleep unless I was heavily sedated. There were days where I only got out of bed to take more painkillers, and the idea of running again seemed like an unachievable dream. Fast forward 6 months and this morning I ran 4 miles in the sunshine. It wasn’t fast, and I stopped to walk a few times, but I ran, and it felt amazing. Of course, that 6 month ‘fast forward’ was anything but fast in reality. First I had to get body used to walking again after weeks of bed rest. Everything hurt all the time. Then some stretching. Then some LOW impact exercise. No, you can’t do star jumps you dick. Put that kettlebell down. Gradually some strength came back and the fear of ending up back where I started diminished slightly. I started doing incline walks on the treadmill. Then a bit more strength work. Then added some high impact moves into the mix. Don’t forget to stretch. God this boring. I stopped eating like an idiot and lost 1 and a half of the 2 stone I’d put on whilst comfort eating for Britain. Eventually I felt confident enough to try some run walk intervals on the treadmill. All my limbs remained intact, so I tried it again the following week. And again. Then I decided to be brave and do an OUTSIDE run. I was terrified something would go wrong and I’d be too far from home to walk back. But it was fine. I didn’t break. So I did it again. And again. This morning I decided I needed to break the psychological half an hour barrier. Hence the 4 miles. Which aren’t going to win me any medals, but who needs medals when your body works properly and you can go and run 4 miles in the sun?! This is by no means the end of the journey; if I want to run a marathon again one day, this is just the beginning. There will be more challenges and set backs to come no doubt. But for now I’m SO bloody proud of myself for not being beaten by this; here’s to coming back stronger 👊🏻👊🏻👊🏻

Recovery and goal setting…….

It’s been 6 weeks since the Barcelona Marathon, the scene of a near- perfect race resulting in 50 minutes being taken off my marathon PB- it’s also 1 week away from the Newport Marathon, my ‘A’ race for 2018, the one that Barcelona was supposed to be a warm up for……

The last 6 weeks have been up and down; post Barcelona I was tired- every session felt like an effort. 2 weeks later I ran in the Cardiff Bay 10km, and managed a new 10km PB of 57 minutes with legs that felt like lead. The next weekend I followed it up with a new 5km PB at Parkrun. The weekend after that I did the Vale 18.5 mile trail run- it was cold and wet and the terrain was horrific; think mud, swamp, and puddles the size of lakes. I hated every second of this run- which in hindsight should have been the first hint that something wrong- I was cold, tired and the terrain didn’t really allow for a huge amount of actual running, so I got bored and frustrated.

By the following Thursday I was at the doctors getting antibiotics for a kidney infection- not the ideal scenario 2 weeks before a marathon. I spent the better part of 4 days in bed, and had a week off running completely. I’m now (I think) fully recovered; I went out this morning and did 8 miles slightly quicker than my marathon pace and felt really good, comfortable and full of energy. I ran without a set time or distance in mind, just ran for the enjoyment of it and loved every minute.

So, fingers crossed, all is back on course. I’m no longer having conversations with myself about whether I should run or not- if anything, the rest seems to have done my poor tired body some good. However, it’s left my mind in a bit of a mess. Should I still push for a time in Newport? There is a big part of me that still wants sub 5 hours, and it feels achievable- I worry that if I don’t give it my all it will be a wasted opportunity that I’ll always regret. However, I’m scared that I might go off too fast, realise halfway through that illness has left me less resilient, and bomb out in the second half. I think ultimately I’m just going to have to see how I feel on the day- I never run particularly well when chasing a specific time- Barcelona happened almost by accident, and I don’t want to put too much pressure on myself and not enjoy the day. As ever, my number one goal has to be to finish, and then anything after that is a bonus.

I’ve been resisting getting too excited about this one just in case the worst happened and I wasn’t able to run, but seeing everyone in London today has brought my marathon fever back; I’ve spent this afternoon packing my drop bag and pinning my number to my race vest!

I have no big plans for this week training wise- I will aim to run twice, neither will be far or fast. I will eat healthy, nutritious food (apart from a pizza the night before!) avoid alcohol, drink all the water, have a sports massage and generally try and rest up as much as possible. I will try to avoid listening to the demons in my head telling me that I’ve had a week off and so must have lost all my fitness. I will get excited about what is currently scheduled to be my last marathon of 2018, the culmination of a hard winter of training. And on Sunday I will go out running with a smile on my face….. and just see what happens…..

Doing it for Wales…

It’s been a few weeks since the Barcelona Marathon, and it’s taken me until now for my feet to touch the ground and to come back down to Earth enough to put virtual pen to paper and write about what was easily one of the most emotional and overwhelming experiences of my life!

I can’t recommend Barcelona enough, both as a place to visit and a place to run. The build up to the race was fantastic, and I actually managed to forget that I was there for a race when we landed on the Friday night and headed straight to a nearby craft beer bar for pints and tapas! The reality set in a bit on the Saturday morning when we headed to the Expo, ostensibly to collect our numbers and T Shirts (oddly, they give them out before the race, which always feels a lot like tempting fate to me!), but in reality to be steered through a huge hall full of every item of running gear you could imagine, and some you probably couldn’t! My willpower wavered when I saw the official ASICS hoodies and one swiftly found it’s way into my bag, to sit untouched alongside my t shirt until after the race. A bit more sightseeing, some carbs in the form of a gorgeous calzone, and we were back to the apartment for an early night (with the exception of my ever supportive husband and brother, who arrived home at about 3am!). I was really nervous, and didn’t sleep well- bizarrely I felt the pressure even more because of how well things had gone- I’d stuck to my training plan exactly, hit all my long runs, lost weight, avoided getting injured, and the race day conditions looked like they were going to be perfect. No room for any excuses here….

With an 8.30am start, the alarm call was an early one, even by my standards. It was the first time I had got ready for a race with others who were also running and it did calm me down a lot- I managed two slices of peanut butter on toast rather than my usual forced down one, and by the time we were walking to the start my nerves had started to calm.

After an obligatory selfie, we headed for the start pens, where I had to smile when I found myself stood next to a group of people from a running club not 10 miles away from home. The start was very efficient, none of the waiting around that I’ve experienced previously and even being right at the back of the last wave, I was across the line 20 minutes after the official start time. I knew I would need to keep my head for the first half of the race- in both the marathons I’ve done previously I’ve struggled hugely on getting to the halfway point- I build it up as such a milestone that when you get there and realise you have to do all that again it feels quite disheartening! This time I told myself that the race didn’t start until halfway- the first half was just about enjoyment, getting my head down and ticking off the miles, and this was largely what I did. The support was fantastic, with one Spanish guy even shouting ‘bore da’ to me in response to my Welsh vest! I had my hydration pack on which meant I could keep running straight through the water stops (of which there were many, take note Brighton marathon!). The only thing that threw me off my stride a little was realising that my watch was quite a bit out on the distance- there were mile signs every 5 miles (the main measurement being kilometres), and when my watch beeped for 10 miles I couldn’t even see the 10 mile sign in the distance! This made me realise that I couldn’t rely on my predicted finish time function too much, so i just tried to focus on keeping my pace as even as possible. The first bit of the course I wasn’t a huge fan of was the long out and back that featured the halfway point- there is something about seeing people several miles ahead of you that always makes me feel a bit rubbish- although nothing will ever be as bad as seeing people finish in Brighton when I was only half way! But never mind, here’s the halfway point, with a big archway and lots of people cheering and clapping….. a little taster of what is to come in 13.1 miles time! I had a quick toilet stop and then implemented my strategy to avoid the mid race downer that I have experienced before- a quick check of my phone (still running, just slightly slower) to see stacks of lovely supportive messages and my club mates tracking me and cheering me on remotely, and then whacked on my specially designed running playlist to perk me up- as much as I was loving the multitude of bands, drummers and other entertainment, I needed to be in my own head for a bit. The tactics worked, and the next couple of miles eased past. There was one section just after mile 15 where the sun came fully out and we were running on a very exposed section of road- no shade or breeze to protect us here. I had a little taste here of what it might be like to run this race in different weather- not nice! Luckily the cloud cover and breeze returned fairly soon afterwards. At about 16 miles in, I realised that I could see the sea in front of me- I hadn’t studied the route extensively, but I knew that the straight along the sea front was very much the home straight, and got excited about the idea of turning onto it…. until I reached the corner, and realised that there was another 5km out and back to contend with before I got there! My pace was still good, and I just got my head down and got on with it. When we finally did turn out onto the sea front, I was glad I had stashed my sunglasses in my rucksack, as the sun was shining down on us. There were a couple of cooling sprays going over the road, which was lovely. The route weaves a little bit into and out of the town, clocking up the miles. At about 22 miles I thought about having a little walk- until a lady shouted ‘go on Sophie , do it for Wales’ at me… well, there was no bloody way I was walking after that let me tell you! Even though my watch was all over the place, I could tell that we were nearing the end. In previous races, my ‘wall’ has been at about 18 miles. I would say that this time it was somewhere around 24. Those last 2 miles were horrendous. We were on a long straight road that seemed to go on forever, with a slight uphill slope, and a gusting wind driving straight into your face. I saw my husband and brother for the second time at this point, but didn’t stop; I was determined not to let my pace drop off for those last few miles (my Strava shows that I succeeded at this despite feeling like I was practically crawling at times). My watch was flashing to me a sub 5 hour finish time, which would have been beyond all my expectations, but I knew the distance was off, so I wasn’t letting myself get too excited. Finally, finally, I saw an inflatable banner…. and another…. and another…. there must have been about 5 of the bloody things before we finally got over the finish line. As soon as I stopped I felt like I was going to fall over; I kept moving through the crowds and within 5 minutes I had my medal, a bottle of Powerade and some water. I had a little moment to myself then to let it sink in- I didn’t have my official time but I knew it was a huge PB and genuinely much beyond anything I ever thought myself capable of (on getting my official time of 5.03.10 through it turned out to be a PB by a margin of 50 minutes and 1 second).

I think you can see from my face in that picture how much it meant to me- all those hours of training, early mornings, running in rain and cold, hill sprints and 800m reps that made me want to die. I briefly thought about how good it would have been to have run sub 5, but quickly chased away those thoughts- I had given that race absolutely everything I had- there was no room for improvement. The sub 5 dream is one to chase another day.

Half an hour after finishing the race I was back in the apartment with a protein shake in my hand, another half an hour and I was showered, dressed in my official t shirt and hoody, with a cold glass of cava. We had all got PBs that day, and found a restaurant for dinner that sold great burgers and exceptionally cheap cava, so it’s safe to say that those PBs were celebrated in style!

On returning to the UK, I was struck down with a lovely spring cough and cold which laid me out for a week, but hopefully gave my legs a chance to rest and repair. Following a sports massage on Monday I was back to club training this week, with hill sprints on Tuesday and a trail run on Thursday, both of which felt much like those last two miles of the marathon all over again! Tomorrow I’m racing- Cardiff Bay 10km, which has every potential for a PB provided my legs hold up- I will report back soon!

The Final Countdown…..

So, two weeks today I will (hopefully) be sitting in a bar in Barcelona, sipping a cold beer and eating tapas, having just finished the Barcelona Marathon. After January seemed to last approximately 86 days rather than the traditional 31, February has flown by. February last year was my nemesis- I celebrated my 30th birthday and started a new job, both of which conspired to mean that I ran a grand total of 5 times in February…. not ideal. Compare this to 2018, and I set a new PB for distance covered in a month in January with a total of 78.5 miles run, and am currently on 68.6 miles for February.

Everything has shifted forward a bit this year, with Barcelona being 4 weeks before Brighton was in 2017. That meant that my final long run fell on the same weekend that a lot of my club were doing the Brecon to Cardiff Ultra, a crazy 44 mile trail run. Having done a pretty well paced 20 miler two weeks before (11.46 minute miles compared to 12.52 minute miles on the same route last year), I was happy for this one to be all about the time on feet and just getting the miles in, so I offered to run with a couple of people for the final half of the race to help them home. We spent the first half of the day on support duties, which essentially involved standing on top of a giant hill being battered by snow and sideways winds- it was great to see everyone running past and giving support, but not the best preparation for a 22 mile training run!

I warmed up pretty quickly once we got going, and felt pretty comfortable for most of the run, despite the persistent snow and a very muddy section which nearly resulted in me losing a shoe! All in all, it was the perfect final long run, with great company and getting to take advantage of supporters on the route, feed stations etc.

Last weekend I did Llanelli Half Marathon- the idea was to use it as a training run, test out kit, have a bit of practice under race conditions and just enjoy running somewhere different with a bit more going on than the confused looking sheep that are our usual running companions! I really enjoyed this race- the conditions were perfect for me- not too warm, not really any rain and a light breeze, and the route was a simple out and back, mainly straight, no hills and pretty quiet. I much prefer races when I can just get my head down and disappear into my own world- I struggled in Brighton due to the sheer volume of people in some areas, lots of whom were screaming at you. It sounds really ungrateful as obviously it’s great that people have come out to support you, but sometimes, especially when I’m tired and hurting, I find it a bit much to deal with.

As I started out I kept thinking ‘I’m going too fast’ and trying to pull it back- trust me, this is a very rare phenomenon for me- but I was just enjoying it too much. I have a new widget on my Garmin that shows predicted finishing time over your set distance, and it was flashing up at somewhere between 2.09 and 2.11 for most of the race. I knew there was absolutely no way that would happen, it would be more than 10 minutes off my current PB…. I kept being absolutely convinced there was no chance until I was at the top of the finishing funnel at 2.09.14, and then decided that I would finish in under 2.10 if it killed me- head down and I crossed the line in 2.09.52. Nearly 12 minutes off my previous PB, which I battled so hard for in Cardiff back in October. I was absolutely elated, had a little cry to myself on the way home in the car, and proceed to go out for the club curry night that evening and get extremely drunk off about 3 mini bottles of prosecco…..

When I compare how I feel now to how I felt two weeks before Brighton last year I feel like a different person- I am genuinely excited for Barcelona, I know I’ve put the work in, I’ve lost over a stone, massively cut down on drinking and I’m ready to enjoy every second of this race. Last year I was the heaviest I’ve ever been thanks to using running as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted, feeling guilty for not hitting all the runs in my training plan, and nursing a slight foot injury due to trying to do a 20 mile run after having barely run for 3 weeks.

I’m going to spend the next 2 weeks easing back on training, maintaining the healthy eating, drinking all the water and trying not to get injured! I’m not going to set myself a target time- I did that in Brighton and then spent the whole time beating myself up for being off my target pace. Llanelli proved that I run my best when I don’t set any expectations, and have the added bonus of actually enjoying myself too!

Wish me luck guys…. Barcelona, I’m ready for you- even got the outfit sorted!