NDJ's London Marathon - I did it!!

Yes, you read the title correctly - I did it! In a steady 5:26:30, which I am very happy about!

So that's the short version. Here's the long version...

Up at 6am, and not feeling too bad. Breakfast, last few bits and pieces into the kitbag, and off to the station for the 6:52 train... which was promptly cancelled by the embarrassing shower of shite that is Greater Anglia. After a mini meltdown, over to the other platform to wait for the 7:22... which was then severely delayed. Which is the point when you thank God for credit cards, and spend £80 on a taxi to London Liverpool Street instead. Tube to Charing Cross, then a train to Blackheath leaving in 2 minutes, so a hurried goodbye to Chris, and a 20 minute journey surrounded by dreadful public school graduates boasting about how little training they'd done (in retrospect, I imagine they dropped out around mile 9, or were lying).

Blackheath was like Twickers on a big match day - hordes of people walking down the closed high street and a bit of a carnival atmosphere, just without the beer. After a very long queue for a portaloo (amazingly clean and equipped with loo paper!), and a quick bag drop off, suddenly I was in the starting pen. I was chatting with a few people, and it took a while to realise that the race had started up ahead of us, as we hadn't moved yet. In the end, it took around 15 minutes after the start to get across the start line, which was a surreal moment: "Oh my god, I'm running the actual London Marathon!".

I stuck around the people I'd been chatting with at the start for the first couple of miles, then realised that that meant I wasn't looking after my own pace. I'd decided beforehand to stave off my habit of starting too fast by running 5 minutes and walking 1 minute, sticking to 12 minute miles in that style. In the end, I ran the whole first mile and most of the second, then checked myself and forced myself back to the planned pace. Originally I'd thought that after mile 5 I'd go to running 10 and walking 2, but actually having tried that for a mile, I found my legs were happier with the shorter walk breaks. I then kept that pace throughout the entire rest of the race, which is probably why my pace remained steady with very little variation away from the 12 minute mile.

I had my first spectators at mile 7 - Chris and my mum-in-law Margaret - and I ran over for a big hug, before running off again. I was feeling pretty fine, but the weather was turning weirdly humid, and I suddenly realised that I'd forgotten to tie my hair back before handing over my bag, and started to feel a bit nasty and hot and knackered. I then started to panic that I was about to bonk, and not even at halfway. Mile 11 felt horrific, I felt myself slow down, and everything was going a bit foggy, then suddenly we turned a corner and were just metres from going over Tower Bridge! I burst into tears, and then suddenly everything was okay. I ran over the whole of Tower Bridge, because why on earth wouldn't you, and after passing the 12 mile marker, I was feeling fine.

If I'm honest, from then on I just really enjoyed it. Yes, there were hard parts - my right hip (ironically always my 'good' hip in the past) started twanging horribly around mile 18, but then I got to have another hug with Chris and Margaret, and a mile later with my lovely friend Mary, and at mile 20 I allowed myself the emergency ibuprofen secreted in my bag of sports beans (well, one of them, as the other pinged into the crowd when I pressed it out of the blister pack!) and that helped. At mile 22 I spotted Vikki and Rachel - well actually, Vikki screamed my name so loud I couldn't have missed them - and I got a double hug before running past Tower Bridge with a huge grin.

The thing is, after around mile 20, I knew I was going to finish, because in the worse case scenario, I could have walked the rest from there. But actually, I carried on running with a smile on my face. I had a slightly weird bit where I started to get worried that I was dreaming and I would actually wake up in the morning and have to run the marathon, but I checked with a marshall that it really was the approach to mile 23, and that helped! Passing the 24 mile marker, I screamed with joy, and then got the brilliant bonus of a third hug with Chris and Margaret (who practically walked a marathon trying to see me as many times as possible!) and before I knew it I was at mile 26 and it was finishing, and I came round the corner and saw the finish and the tears started and then the grin, and I crossed the line at a run with my hands in the air and the biggest smile ever!

It's all a bit crazy and hazy and frantic after that - you get processed through for your medal, goody bag, and baggage reclaim, and I managed to get through to Chris on the phone while that was going on, then my Dad and Stepmum called, and I was trying to get to the meeting area, and sort my bag out, and put my foil blanket on at the same time. I made myself eat a cereal bar, because that's what I always did after long training runs, and once Chris and Margaret finally found me, all I could do was babble like a loon!

The journey home felt a bit surreal, and I was still not entirely convinced I hadn't dreamt the whole thing. I read all the lovely Facebook messages and texts, and when we were finally home, I had a bath and ate cheesy chips and olives and had a beer (the body wants what it wants) before falling asleep.

This morning my legs are pretty stiff, but I'm still on a high. I can't believe I did it! I'd almost say I would do it again... until I remember the months of training involved! But if you are thinking about doing it, I'd tell you to go for it - it's definitely a once in a lifetime experience!

So finally, special thanks to everyone who sponsored me, the lovelies who turned out on the day to cheer me on, the friends and family who followed my progress on Facebook, the tracker app, and this blog, Angela Porter at Live Simple for the Pilates, and most of all to my brilliant husband Chris, who believed I could do it even when I didn't.

Signing off now...

NDJ xxx

NDJ's London Marathon - it's tomorrow!

The last two training runs (20 minutes each) are done. My last pre-marathon Pilates session is done. My very long and detailed list of what to pack in my kitbag is done. And honestly? I'm done waiting. 

On Thursday I went to collect my race number, timing chip and kitbag from the London Marathon Expo; an experience which wasn't quite what I was expecting, being more commercial than inspirational, but nonetheless, it confirmed that no mistake had been made, I really am entered to run this thing, with a number and everything.

I am just £100 away from meeting my fundraising target for Crisis, so if you haven't donated yet but have been reading these diary entries, maybe you could hand over a few quid? http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015 . I promise you that every penny is going to a really worthwhile cause - if I had to spend even one night sleeping out in the conditions I've seen in the area round King's Cross where I work, I'd be a wreck. I have no idea how people manage to do it night after night, and bluntly, they shouldn't have to. Crisis is advocating for people who can't advocate for themselves, and their work is vital. 

If you want to track my progress tomorrow, you can use my race number, 9001, on the tracker app https://itunes.apple.com/gb/app/london-marathon/id978343907?mt=8 or the London Marathon website. If you're coming to watch, then definitely check the spectator information on the website too. 

It's very weird knowing that this time tomorrow I'll hopefully be nearing the finish line. After four months of training, it feels like it's been both a long time coming and no time at all. 

NDJ's London Marathon - week 16

So the taper continues, as does the increased temperatures. I'd like to suggest that next year's marathon be held in March, just to be on the safe side...

I went out for an hour's run on Wednesday, the hottest day of the year so far at 23 degrees, and although in one way it was quite nice - bright sunshine, no puddles, good chance to practice in my cap - it did freak me out how much more quickly I felt hot and tired. I am really really praying for a temperature below 15 degrees for the marathon, and definitely below 20!

I set out yesterday to run 8 miles, my last 'long run' of these 17 weeks of training, and you know what? I was feeling pretty good. I've been practising sticking to a nice slow pace out of the gate, deliberately slower than my main race pace, as per various bits of advice and to combat my tendency to start off too fast. I got to halfway through and was actively looking forward to the second half and picking up the pace a bit when...

...THE PAVEMENT FOUGHT BACK! Yup, the avenues I've been pounding up and down as part of all my training routes for the last four months decided they'd had enough. My foot landed on a paving slab, it flipped up and, as my foot passed over it (while the rest of my body worked to stop me sprawling headlong into the road), it smacked into the top of my foot.

Having sworn loudly and fulsomely enough to terrify an elderly couple nearby (sorry!), I gingerly walked a few paces to see what was going on. And fuck, it really hurt. There was a big dirty diagonal line across the laces of my shoe, showing where the blow landed. I limped to the river path, to get some space to stop, and took off my shoe. The top of my foot was tender to the touch, but not overly swollen, and I still had full mobility. I rang the husband "I'm okay, but something's happened..."

I walked the 1.5km home, slowly. The pain was abating. Walking felt okay, within reason. I got home and took my shoe and sock off. There was a red patch on top of my foot that was tender and swollen. I slapped on an ice pack and scared myself on Google. I kept reminding myself that full mobility and minimal swelling are good signs.

And today? Well it was painless when I woke up, but it didn't greatly enjoy the walking parts of my morning commute; by mid-afternoon, it was feeling pretty much okay. I still have full mobility and minimal swelling. I'm resting it now.

I've got a 20 minute run scheduled tomorrow. I think it will be fine. Frankly, even if it isn't completely fine, I'm running on Sunday regardless. It'll be fine by then. And after putting myself through all of this for 17 weeks, I am not letting a bloody paving stone stop me running this damn marathon!


I'm running for Crisis, the homeless charity. If you haven't already, please do sponsor me a few pounds - it really will make a big difference. http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015

NDJ's London Marathon - week 15

So, tapering is kind of nice. I had a properly relaxed Easter weekend once the 20 miler was done, in the knowledge that relaxation was actually mandated, although I'm not sure the level of alcohol consumption would feature in any training plans!

I headed out for a short recovery run on Tuesday, which was fine, then a lovely sunny hour's run on Thursday which left me grinning. That said, the increasing temperature is worrying me a bit - after training in freezing conditions for three months, the sudden onset of Spring does present challenges, as exemplified in today's half marathon distance...

I may have been a wee bit overconfident. It just didn't feel like a very long distance in comparison to what I've been doing over the last few weeks. So I may have headed out this morning with just a touch of hangover, and perhaps not enough carbs inside me. And then I made my all too common mistake of starting off a bit fast, which was definitely compounded by the warmer weather and bright sunshine.

It was the first run of the year when I could wear a short sleeved running top, and in retrospect I should have put a cap on too, as my head was feeling a bit boiled towards the end. In the last few kms, I was also thinking a vest top would have been better than a tee - despite a strong wind, it was seriously warm, to the extent that I've acquired faint tan lines on both arms.

So anyway, not being sufficiently fuelled or hydrated, nor properly attired, and starting off too fast, all meant that I ran out of steam after about 10 miles. I made it to 12, and then decided that running another mile with the sun beating on my head and my legs feeling knackered would probably do more harm than good, and stopped. I didn't bonk, but it wasn't far off. Still, maybe it's a good thing to have made the mistakes now and reminded myself of the reasons not to make them on the day!

This week is another couple of shorter runs, and an 8 miler on the weekend, followed by just three 20 minute runs the following week, and then the day itself! I can't quite believe that this time in a fortnight, it'll be over.


As you probably know by now, I'm running the marathon in support of Crisis, the homeless charity. If you'd like to donate a few quid, it would be hugely appreciated: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015

NDJ's London Marathon - week 14

I started the week still feeling pretty bruised and battered from the rotten 18 miler, which is the only justification I have for failing to realise that if I was planning my 20 miler on Friday, I would have to bring forward my two other runs to Monday and Wednesday; a fact that didn't actually enter my consciousness until Tuesday. To cut a long story short, this meant the only run I ended up doing was a miserable twenty minute 'recovery' trot a couple of days too late, in which ankles, knees and hips all refused to cooperate.

But hey, I was sensible. I went to pilates, I did my physio, I stayed in, ate carbs, and remained sober on Thursday night even though the Leaders Debate would have been enlivened by a few drinks...

And then suddenly, it was Good Friday. Also known as 20 Mile Friday.

I confess, the main motivation for bringing the run forward was to get it out of the way so I stood some chance of enjoying the Easter long weekend. And also, when you've spent weeks hammering your body with higher and higher mileage, once you can see the peak ahead you just want to get there!

I was determined to learn from my mistakes, and not to bonk: I started off slower and forced myself to keep that pace; I started on the sport beans much earlier, rather than waiting till I already felt low on energy; I enlisted my husband to switch my empty water bottle for a full one halfway through.

I kept a steady flow of running 4k then walking 0.5k, and for the vast majority of the distance I actually felt pretty good. I trotted along fairly happily, listening to an Agatha Christie novel on Audible (thanks to Ellie and Keith for the podcasts/books instead of music suggestion), and even though it poured with rain for almost the entire time, I still managed to smile at points. If anything, the rain was quite refreshing, except the couple of times a drop landed in my eye and almost took out my contact lens.

Once I hit about 17m though, it got pretty tough. I was still running - I definitely didn't bonk - but my knees and ankles were starting to feel like they were on fire. I randomly remembered something I'd read about fixing on something in the near distance and running to that, then doing the same again, and again... So I fixed on a red postbox a hundred metres ahead, then a yellow bin a couple of hundred metres ahead of that, then a green sign fifty metres ahead of that... and that's how I ran the last few miles. Well, except when I ran to the half drunk bottle of Fanta impaled on a railing and then spent the next five minutes fantasising about drinking it (I didn't obviously, that would be gross. I guess I just wanted more sugar). And then finally I ran to the red poop scoop bin, and it was done.

I walked the half kilometre home, starting to limp a bit, drank two pints of orange juice and water, ate a cereal bar and some salty crisps, did stretches, and cried when I saw my husband had posted about me on Facebook and people had said lovely things and made donations to Crisis. Then I had a bath, three platefuls of chicken fajitas, a beer, and nine hours sleep, and woke up feeling pretty much fine.

So now it's taper time. Three weeks of slowly bringing down the mileage to get ready for the big day. And now, I honestly can't wait. If I can run 20 miles after weeks of relentlessly building mileage, then I think I can run 26.2 miles on fresh legs. I have to believe I can, anyway.


I'm running the London Marathon in support of Crisis, the homeless charity. I am grateful for every penny that people have donated, and if you haven't done so already, please consider sponsoring me here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015

NDJ's London Marathon - week 13

This diary entry could also be accurately titled 'From the Sublime to the Ridiculous'...

Tuesday was amazing. I was only supposed to run for 35 minutes, so I decided to go out and run a fast 5k, which I haven't done since all this marathon training started. And it was bloody joyous, not just for the river at sunset and the ducks and the actual real live utterly random pheasant (which looked far too glossy to be wild - I suspect an escape in the manner of Chicken Run or similar), but because I had forgotten what it was like to feel fast and strong and finish with a joyful sprint that leaves you with a giant face splitting grin that lasts for hours afterwards. Granted, I'm five minutes slower than my 5k PB, coming in at 33 minutes, but that's only to be expected, and when running makes you feel this good, who cares?

Thursday was supposed to be an hour's run, but there was Life Stuff going on which meant cutting back to 45 minutes was the only sensible option. It was fine, steady enough, fast enough, etc etc. No pheasants though. 

And so we come to Saturday, and the 18 mile run. Or, more accurately, the 13 mile run followed by 5 miles of pathetic run-walk awfulness. Yes, reader - I bonked. Or hit the wall. Or fucked it all up. However you prefer to describe it really. On the plus side, I know what happened - I started off too fast, running my fastest ever half marathon, but then had absolutely nothing left in the tank. I've never felt so exhausted. I simply hadn't the energy to put one foot in front of the other any more. It wasn't a mental block - I was trying very hard to give myself a pep talk - it was a physical one. 

Research tells me that bonking happens when the body has consumed its supply of glycogen from the muscles, and can't convert the carbohydrates you're taking on during the run (sport beans etc) fast enough to replenish the reserves. There's also an element of dehydration slowing the absorption of those carbohydrates in the first place. And the best way to encourage this disastrous state of affairs? Start off at too high an intensity.

I'm hoping this is lesson learned. After all, 16 miles last weekend was fine, and I started struggling a lot earlier than that yesterday, so it wasn't about the distance. But however much logic you apply, it doesn't quite stop it being scary. I managed to limp through those last 7km through sheer force of will, but could I have limped through 21km (i.e. to a full marathon)? No, not a chance. 

Next weekend is the last long run, 20 miles, before scaling back to 13 and then 8 in the couple of weeks before the big day, which is 4 weeks today. I simultaneously want longer to prepare, and for it to be here so I can get it over with. I'm already starting to think about life on the other side of it. 

Don't forget, my suffering is in aid of Crisis, who support those suffering far worse. Please donate a few quid here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015

NDJ's London Marathon - week 12

There are some things about marathon training that you probably won't know unless you're lucky enough to have close friends who've done it, and feel comfortable discussing bodily functions. Such as, during the longest runs stage (i.e. now) you won't feel fit from it, you'll feel like shit and your body will go all to hell in the most unexpected ways. Some of the benefits I am currently enjoying include spots, eczema, dodgy digestion, and perhaps more predictably, painful joints. I was hobbling like an arthritic old lady by Saturday night after the 14 miler. On Sunday, anything that involved my knees bending (like, you know, sitting down) was difficult. And by Monday, the nagging pain in my left hip had become a stab with every step I took. Frankly, it's bloody ridiculous.

Now I admit, with the exception of my weekly Pilates session, I probably haven't done enough strength/physio work, so scared along by the hip pain (bursitis - lovely name), I did physio work on Monday night, and prayed it would help me get my Tuesday run in. It did, in that the hip pain was lessened, but I only did half an hour instead of 45-50 minutes, because the pain was flaring up again and sometimes even I am capable of exercising common sense.

Pilates on Wednesday, with its wondrous benefits in the core and hip areas, had a huge positive effect, but I decided to play it safe on Thursday and do another round of physio work rather than run. I figured that would ultimately have more benefit to the weekend long run than another short, and possible hip provoking, run would.

Preparing for a 16 mile run yesterday was very different to the week before - I wasn't scared of it, but I was worried about whether my hip would hold up. To that end, as well as taping my knees, which I have done on long runs in the past, I also followed instructions to tape a giant asterisk over my hip, with the pain spot right at its centre. Did I mention my tape is tiger print? It was quite a look... though thankfully mostly covered by my running tights.

Whether it was the physio, the tape, the extra rest between runs, or just my body adapting to the training, the 16 mile run was better than last week's 14 miler, at least while I was doing it. I still have a tendency to start off too fast and then struggle at the end, but I stuck to my run 5k then walk 1k formula, and although the last couple of kilometres of the fourth round of that were particularly tough, the1.75 'rogue' kilometres to finish the run (25.75km in all) pulled out a last burst of energy, and I finished feeling pretty okay, in just over 3 hours. My hip was twinging slightly and my knees were a little sore, but physically I felt in better shape than at the end of the 12 and 14 milers.

Well, until I almost fainted in the shower, couldn't really eat dinner, and keep feeling like I was swimming through glue.

I honestly don't know what happened. I followed my usual routine of water and cereal bars straight after the run, then stretching and showering, but my body just didn't cope very well for some reason. It was a little bit scary until I googled and found all the other runners with the same reactions after long runs, but even then, it wasn't a pleasant way to spend the evening.

Today I've been okay - knees and general leg muscles much less sore than last week, though hip has flared up again. I'll work through some stretching and gentle physio this evening and tomorrow, and then be running again on Tuesday. It's bizarre to think there's only two proper long runs left before the marathon (the half marathon two weeks before no longer qualifies as a long run, in this context). Honestly, I just want it to be over now.


Don't forget, I'm running the London Marathon in support of Crisis. If you're enjoying the tales of my suffering, why not donate a few quid to ease someone else's? http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015