So...
I think I made everyone aware that my distance runs at the weekend took a knock after my partner had an operation on his shoulder. Due to the op, he could not have his daughter on his own, because he could not lift her. This meant that I needed to be home and could not just go running for 3-4hrs. Next came the implementation of a company take over at work. The first 2 weeks of which I was not getting out of work until very late. The final hit was a week before the marathon, dad was taken ill and I had to return to Manchester... 2 days later we had lost him.
As you can imagine, the week before the marathon was a somber one and I was not looking forward to running 26.2 miles with nothing but my own thoughts. It was then that my partner did one of the most stupid things he has ever done, but also the most romantic; he entered the marathon (with no training and still in recovery). He said to me that he would not complete the race but would run with me as far as he could.
Saturday 19th of April was the day of the marathon, we were up early doors and it was cold!
As I had never done a marathon before and my training had dropped off, I went to the 5hr pacer, hoping to come in before then, but not having unrealistic expectations. I remember, 3 miles in, Pete seeing the mile sign and saying that he really didn't need to see that! By this point we had caught up to the 4hr 45min pacer and were happily running at that level.
At around 7miles Pete told me he was starting to struggle and dropped back a little. At around 9miles I turn to smile and give him an encouraging wave and he had gone. I instantly got distressed as he had told me he would let me know if he had to leave me. I had seen a few people collapse and sirens were going off. In that irrational way I started to think the worst. I carried on running knowing that Pete would have wanted me to continue. I was tracking myself on my phone so knew he would ring if there was a problem.
At the half marathon point I had beaten my previous half marathon time by 4mins and was feeling good! Another half mile down the road there was a point where we were passing people on the opposite side of the road, who were about 1 mile behind us... there was Pete!
We both ran to the center of the road, I gave him a quick hug and told him how proud of him I was and that the half marathon point was not far away at all.
I continued with the 4hr 45min pacer until the 16 mile point. I could sense a tightness and possible swelling around my right knee so dropped back a little. At 18miles I lost the pacer I had thus far spent the race with; it was now that I started to hit a wall.
I was starting to feel the burning pain in my legs and I wanted to know how far behind Pete was. I stopped, stretched out my legs, and spent a couple of mins looking into the crowd of people running towards me, to see if I could see my boy.
I started running again, but at 21miles, having spent the last mile running through what seemed like the middle of nowhere, I had a mental strop! I stopped to walk, took my phone from my arm, and called Pete. It was that encouragement that I needed. He was still going, he had to stop to have his feet wrapped by Saint Johns ambulance, but he was still going and encouraged me to do the same, so I did!
With about 1.5 miles to go I saw the steelwork at the top of Old Trafford; Manchester United's ground. It was then I began to run harder again, knowing that Sir Matt Busby Way marked the finish line.
The time on the clock when I crossed the line was 5hrs 21mins, but the time on the clock when we crossed the start line was 10mins so this meant that I completed in 5hrs 11mins.
We are thinking of doing a half later in the year and then doing another marathon next year in order to beat our times.
So that's it, that's the end of my marathon story. Thank you for taking the time to read it. It has been the most psychologically demanding thing I have ever had to do, but I'm glad I did. This post however, has to be dedicated to my dad. I owe a lot of who I am to him. Thanks dad xxx
