Tomorrow is Sunday.
Tomorrow is May 25th 2014.
Tomorrow I will get up at 06.45 and put on my lycra, just like I have done most Sundays since August last year.
Except……… Tomorrow I will run my very first Marathon.
All week I’ve been partaking in the same conversation with everyone I speak to…. “How are you feeling?” – “Nervous” – “Oh. You’ll be fine.You should be excited” – “I am”.
It’s so brilliant to have so much support. I’d also like to point out that I’m currently sitting on a running total of £1200 for Maggie’s Centres between online and offline donations. So if you’ve donated, thank you SO much. However I’ve repeated myself so many times that I got to the stage where I didn’t know how I was feeling.
I have had a week of ups and downs. My hips and lower back were very sore last weekend so I rested. I knew I had a sports massage on Tuesday and a Physio appt on Thursday, so I hoped I’d feel better by Friday and actually be able to enjoy my final week of tapering. However, the pain level was such that I really couldn’t relax.
The Sports Massage
You know it’s going to be an experience when the first thing the therapist says is “This isn’t going to be relaxing”. I’ve had deep tissue massages before, but not while I’d actually been in pain and OH MY WORD it hurt. I knew it would. And I knew I’d be sore for 24-48 hours afterwards. I wasn’t *quite* prepared. The massage itself was TREMENDOUS but I couldn’t really move on Wednesday without wincing. I drank 2 litres of water on Wednesday and Thursday which helped the muscles to recover. And after Pilates on Wednesday night I started to feel much better.
“You are NOT allowed to go on holiday while I’m training EVER again” I said. “I am a disaster”. Once I’d got through catching PhysioDan up on the previous two weeks of mountain bike accidents, limping, half marathons, headaches and sports massages, PhysioDan said “Your job for the next 3 days is not to injure yourself”. Luckily there were no needles or scary spine cracking. Just some rather ouchy stretches. Done. Good lucks said, off I went.
Friday was a weird day. I got to work and spent the morning absolutely buzzing. But by lunchtime, I was a nervous wreck. Totally unproductive. When I got home on Friday I did a shop run to pick up last minute bits and pieces for my kit. Bananas, Lucozade Sport and Powerbars for the finish line and pringles and jelly babies for my race nutrition. (Gels make me boke). Then I got home and sorted out the kit. Which I’ve done again (Three times) since.
Tomorrow 9 months of hard work, pain, tears, shouting, thinking I can’t do it, thinking maybe I can do it, thinking I’m fucking stupid, running in the rain, running through clouds of midgies bigger than my house (the clouds. Not the midgies. THAT doesn’t bear thinking about…), extra pilates classes, weights training, cross training and being generally fit will all come to fruition.
I have embraced the suck. (I have also moaned a LOT. So… sorry.) I have done the work. I am rested. I am well fed. I am READY.
The weather forecast is ALL of the rain. But I’ve trained for that. And I prefer that to blistering sunshine. I have chuckable cosy and waterproof stuff to wear to the start. I’ve charged The Garmin.
After I’d published this, I decided I’d go back and add a bit in about exactly why I’ve done all this:
Cancer is a bastard. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t had to experience it in some way at some point. It’s taken my loved ones and dear friends. Too many beautiful, wonderful people have to fight this horrid thing too often. There are plenty of incredible charities and organisations working hard to find a cure, and others directly caring for patients. Maggie’s work tirelessly to provide safe havens not just for patients, but for their friends and families too. Places people can go to ask the questions they need to ask. To feel safe and welcome and relaxed. Their work is CRUCIAL. So thank you, again, for donating.
I’ve been more emotional that I thought I’d be this week (shocker) having been reminded what it’s like to lose someone incredibly special and thinking about how I would have loved John and my grandparents to see me get this far. I feel very fortunate that Mum won her fight, and will be there (possibly with bells on, but she won’t tell me what she’s wearing) to support me. And that my future brother-in-law recovered so well.
I mentioned in an earlier blog that a bit of discomfort while running a marathon is a drop in the ocean compared to what some people have to cope with every day.
I’ve done this for them.
Edinburgh…. BRING IT ON.