And didn’t even have to hitch a ride home in an ambulance... Now that’s what I call a RESULT.
In actual fact, I really enjoyed the event (which was a surprise because I have found the last two events hard – and they were less than half the distance of this one). There was just a really good atmosphere – starting off in the Don Valley Stadium was almost like being a “proper” athlete. Indeed, for a brief moment, I was sharing the same track space with some of those elite athletes who probably finished the event in under an hour. (No, I can’t name any of them. I suspect that most of the “elite” elite athletes were in London today taking part in some run or other – obviously, no one was watching that – no, all eyes in the athletics world were, without doubt, on Sheffield today). The period of time I was sharing the track with them, was, to be fair, extremely brief being as they were gone in nano-seconds, whereas it took me quite a long time to even break into a run after the firing pistol went off (being, as I was, right at the back of the starting line along with all the other slow runners – in fact, the girl standing next to me had a broken arm and didn’t intend to run at all).
Then it was a nice steady downhill run into town, and there was loads of support along the way. We ran past the fire station and some of the firemen were outside cheering us on; we ran past the Crucible where the snooker is on at the moment and some of the people from that were outside cheering too. I had a low point at around the 8 mile mark (just as we were running up Ecclesall Road). It was the only really sustained uphill section of the whole course. Fortunately, it was thronged with students and the support was really good. I also saw my friend and her husband at the end and that cheered me up enough to run the next 7 miles.
If I had a criticism, it would be this: The people at the 10 mile mark should not have been shouting “Nearly there now!” There was another sodding three miles to go and it was just offering false hope. Still, it did feel like we were nearly there at that point. I enjoyed it. On the whole it was good. And because it was Sheffield, everybody was friendly and took the time to chat on the way (comparing notes about the vileness of the energy drink which was being offered – at least I know my gag reflexes still work). I even, in a moment of extreme athletic professionalism, had a Paula Radcliffe moment. (OK, I didn’t win or beat my personal best – but I did have to go for a wee in a bush).
All in all, by the time I reached the 13 mile mark (and I must admit I did feel like crying real tears of joy at the sight of it by that time), I didn’t feel in too bad shape. Especially when I compare myself with the grown men who were having to be carted off in ambulances and the bloke I saw who was walking along barefoot, carrying his trainers in his hand, his feet bleeding. Obviously, I felt awful after the event. I still feel pretty bad now. My knees are killing me. It’s not good for you – it really isn’t, but at the time of completion (and before I had to walk back to the car) I felt pretty good. I even managed to eat the complimentary yoghurty flapjack (also vile) without being sick. However, by the time I reached the car I had started to feel pretty shoddy and it took a whole packet of dextrose tablets to feel strong enough to brave the journey back home.
But that does not detract from my enjoyment of the event. I would say that it’s been one of my favourites so far. One of the best moments for me was when I was running next to two blokes just by JE James Cycles and one turned to the other and said “I can’t be doing with this, shall we find a pub?” The other responded, “Ahh, there’s one at the end of the road.” I don’t know if they were joking. Perhaps so. What I can say is that I never saw them again throughout the duration of the race.
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