1. I need more running kitMy running shoes are not the only thing in this house getting all the action, my washing machine has done a grand job. I’ll never have enough running socks though. Ever.
2. Mental strength beats everything
Twenty five days are harder than 26 miles. I started to struggle after my half marathon on 13 December. I got a PB and was over the moon, but I was also exhausted. I’d built myself up mentally for the race but there was no rewarding rest at the end of it… Keep on running! Having to carry on was one of the most challenging things ever.
3. There’s a loop near my house which is exactly half a mile.
I know this because I ran it. Twice. Every little helps.
4. Running hungover is not only possible, but also good for you.
In 2 years of running, I ran hungover ONCE, because I feared it so. But guess what? You actually feel better afterwards. And once I got out the door, I didn’t feel too bad during the run either. A Christmas miracle.
5. You’re capable of so much more than you think
The first two weeks were filled with positivity as I knocked out a long run, followed my speed intervals and still didn’t die like I thought I would. I want to train 5 time a week for a spring marathon and this was a chance to show myself I was capable.
***
As with everything we do as runners, the sense of achievement always washes away the memory of tough times. It was hard, going out every day, in the dark and wet, trying to find clean kit, running on achey legs. But I did it, and now I’ve done this I can start considering even bigger things 🙂
Fuck it, I did it, who cares that I’m starting a blog post with a bad word?! I finally FINALLY got my sub-2:00 half marathon (1:58:45). I’ve been trying to do this for two years so today is a BIG DAY. Maybe the best day!
I ran a 10k PB three weeks ago (52 minutes) and I’ve spent lots of time since then thinking about splits and whether my legs could do that again twice and a bit more.
It’s December, so I’ve been drinking lots of wine, I’m a bit fat right now and I’ve been doing ‘Advent Running’ (no tapering for me!), so in theory I shouldn’t be the fittest I’ve ever been.
But guess what, I am! And I know exactly why. About two months ago I decided to get my shit together and stop running just for the sake of it. If I missed a speed session with the running club then I went out and did it alone the next night. I’ve been training 4-5 days a week mostly tempo runs. It hasn’t even been that hard to up my training… It’s as if the decision to take my training seriously was the hardest part.
And best of all, today’s half marathon wasn’t that hard. Running sub 9-min miles for the first half felt great; second half was a struggle but i didn’t feel completely empty at the end.
The course itself was a whirlwind – lots of it was flooded (did I run through canal at one point?) and avoiding the ankle deep puddles meant braving the churned grass verge. Many fellow runners went down.
The water stops were a complete shambles: a table with empty cups and overwhelmed looking marshals at mile 3, no cups at all at mile 6, and again… No water ready at mile 9. I had to stop and pour my own every time!
But I love racing in Milton Keynes, I love the winter half medal AND Tshirt, I love the underpasses and the redways… And I love getting PBs! 🙂
Thirty minutes before the start of the Milton Keynes MoRunning 10k 2015, I was still in the car with the heaters on. My original plan of arriving early to avoid the queues for race registration was scrapped as soon as I realised it was the coldest day of the year!!! Last year’s MK MoRun was thwarted by continuous rain, but this year actually saw ICE on the course!
For the first time, JR was joining me on the start line (after two years of being a race widower, he’s decided to join the fun). We’ve been training together and typically he’s faster than me even though he only started running about a month ago! We planned to start together and then he would go when he felt necessary, which was about 3km in today’s case. (He went on to run 49:12 for his first 10k…!)
My plan was to simply put the hammer down from the starting gun. What actually happened was mile 1 became my slowest mile by almost 30 seconds for reasons I don’t know. Did it take me a while to warm up? It was fairly congested at the start but at the time I felt I wasn’t losing speed due to overtaking. Who knows?
Apart from the first 9:31 minute-mile, I managed to keep the rest under 9. It hurt the whole time. I took a gel at halfway which seemed mad for a short distance but it helped. Push on, push on, push on.
I love running in Milton Keynes so my course review will always be positive. MoRun was my first race and I run every year for tradition’s sake. Milton Keynes is great to race around because there are enough redways, lakes and towpaths to keep runners away from the roads. And every now and again I’ll turn a corner and find myself on a part of the marathon course and simply be glad I’m only running 10k!!!
I was aiming for sub-55 and came home in 52:47. I was happy but not surprised because I knew I’d pushed myself harder than ever before. I promised myself after Berlin that I would quit taking it easy. I would quit going out for an easy 3 mile jog. And instead I’ve been strict about 3-4 runs a week, one of which being a speed session with the club and the rest tempo pace. What’s the point in doing it if you don’t put in 100%? I’ve got 3 marathons under my belt now, all of which were run with the aim of “just getting round”, but I’m quitting that attitude too now.
Next races –
Before I start gushing about a race that started badly and ended amazing, I’m going to outline quickly why poor preparation from the race organisers completely thwarted my chances of a PB and an enjoyable first half.
Firstly, the postcode in the programme was wrong for the car park – PE1 9PB instead of PE2 9PB – which left a lot of runners following their GPS to an industrial estate 15 minutes away. I was early so didn’t panic, but this detour, as well as a serious lack of toilets meant I didn’t have time to pee before the race. Why can’t race organisers get this right? By law, one toilet must be provided per 100 people but surely this should be reconsidered for large scale races. Id be interested to see how many people the organisers actually catered for, considering there must’ve been on average two spectators per runner. We joined the toilet queue 30 mins before race start (could’ve been 45 mins if they’d got the postcode right!!) but it soon became obvious we were never going to make it so gave up and went to the start.
Ever since Berlin marathon, I’ve wanted a proper debrief with my cousin and best running friend Ruth, as well as wanting to fulfil a serious craving for another race and more bling. Ruth lives an hour from me however, so after she told me she was doing the Great Eastern Run, I thought I might as well drive the 1.5 hours to Peterborough, race, and bend her ear for two hours at the same time.
So we set off with full hearts and full bladders (grr) and Ruth was pacing us for sub 2:10. Although I have sub-2 dreams I had to remember I’ve just run a marathon so an easy jog was sensible. I am not sensible. I just wanted to race. My legs were trying to plough away, with the egotistical mindset I could retain 80% effort for 13.1 miles. I stayed sensible.
It was unexpectedly hot for October, but the course was perfect. First few miles were through the city centre with plenty of crowds. Two hills perhaps (?) and the rest was flat with plenty of spectators to cheer us round. We ran the first half quicker than planned, but decided we felt good so we should at 9:45-10:00 min/mile place.
Due to the toilet nightmare, I was conciously not taking on as much water as usual, and I really struggled waiting for the water station to appear during mile 8. My legs were starting to ache, was this a good idea?
Ruth and her friend from running club stopped for the loo at mile 9. I knew I couldn’t stop or my legs would pool, so I went on without them.
No one was here to keep me sensible now. I had four miles left and it took me around 3 seconds to decide I was going to run full pelt for the remainder of the race. I’m not going to lie, it felt great picking all those people off. Cheesy as you like, one man even said to me at mile 11 – I kid you not – “wow, where did you get that pace from?” and I blushed as I zoomed (ha) past him.
I crossed the finish line, my second fastest HM time ever in 2:07 (PB 2:05). Where has all this speed come from? Two weeks after a marathon? I haven’t run this fast since March 2014 when I was at peak fitness and a lot lighter (and drier hehe) than I am now. I was lazy with my speed sessions during marathon training but perhaps putting the miles in paid off.
Obviously the queue to pick up my bag was then 30 mins + (see how far away I was queuing compared to where actual baggage tent was). One advantage of this was chatting to the guy infront of me for ages, who I then lost sight of when we reached our bags. It’s a shame I didn’t catch his name but I hope the running world helps us cross paths again one day!
To the organisers credit, the goody bag was great, free tshirt, great medal. But next year, why not sack off the branded tote bags and spend the money on more toilets (or someone to proofread the programme)?!
Great race for me overall, but because of my own efforts not those of the organisers!
Next events:MK MoRun 10k: 22 November
Leighton Buzzard Santa Dash: 29 Nov (I have a title to defend)
About three minutes before I dropped my bag off, I made the last minute decision to stash some extra gels into the front of my shorts, a bit like a powerbar jock strap. They say you shouldn’t do anything different from usual on race day and this was definitely a risk! HOWEVER I didn’t notice them at all, and let’s just hope none of the cameras caught me trying to retrieve them.
The race
The first and last three miles were the hardest. My calves were aching when I started and my legs were nowhere near as fresh as they usually are on marathon day. The 4:30 pacer disappeared in front of me and I couldn’t hear my splits from my phone over the noise of the crowd so I decided to just run with what felt comfortable.
Miles 3-10 were amazing, my favourite. I was back on track and a PB was still possible even though I started slow. My legs had loosened, my first gel had kicked in and I was really motivated by the crowds and the live bands. Around mile 8, I turned a corner onto this long sunny stretch with a great fountain at the end and just thought, wow. This is great. I considered slowing down but I felt so good I was running about 4:30 pace at this point.
I could feel tiredness setting in around 10-13, which worried me because I wanted to put my foot down at halfway. I could feel those familiar dark marathon demons creeping in around 14/15 but just pushed them out. Saw James at 16.5 with supplies which gave me the boost I needed. I’d decided to push at 20 miles but I became so impatient, I ended up going for it at 17. My favourite bit: single digits.
This plan went well until 23 miles. I was on time for a PB, impressed that I was still retaining goal marathon pace (10:30ish) even at mile 21. For my last marathon, I ran the last 6 miles around 12 minute miles so was loving that I was still on pace.
At 23 I was just frigging exhausted. I was still pushing really hard, convincing myself just because it hurts doesn’t mean I have to run slow. I knew I’d come this far at PB pace but just couldn’t get my miles below 11 minutes. I’d got to the point where I had to concentrate on just finishing – my breathing was terrible, I couldn’t swallow and I had no water. There’s a long stretch around 39km that was really hard – barely any spectators, just an endless road with tramlines down the middle. I was surrounded by walkers and scuttling runners. Borderline hell.
Obviously my mind was pickled and even though I knew there were only 2km left I just couldn’t fathom how little that was. It was only when I recognised a cathedral we’d visited near to Brandenberg Gate the day before, I could finally entertain the idea that I was almost home.
The last 1200m were like nothing I’ve ever experienced or will again. You turn a corner and see the Brandenberg Gate about 600m ahead but then the finish is another 400m after that. The final stretch is lined with noisy crowds, there’s loud music and a guy yelling over the PA. You’re torn between desperately wanting it to be over and wanting to savour this long straight run to victory. No one walks that bit.
PB or not PB?
After some bitch held up her country’s flag at the finish, simultaneously punching me in the neck, I grabbed my medal and immediately went looking for my chip time. I’d gone through 25 miles in 4:30 so was sure of a PB, but was disappointed to see chip time 4:53 (3 mins slower than my PB). I knew my phone had been slightly out of sync with the km markers but didn’t expect such a difference. My phone said I’d actually run a total of 27.1 miles when I stopped it at the finish line, with a 26.2 time of 4:44 – a dream PB for me. I can only put this down to (or maybe it’s wishful thinking) weaving – I potentially added an extra mile on by dodging walkers, battling through water stations, detouring to see James. It’s bittersweet, obviously I’m not as ecstatic as I would’ve been if my chip had said 4:44, but I like to think I ran 26.2 in 4:44 and that’s good enough for me.
Spectating
In terms of being a spectator, Berlin was impeccable. I got to see James an epic 7 times because he is awesome, but also because he was just hopping on and off the tubes, which weren’t nearly as crowded like in London. I was amazed that it took a maximum of 30 mins from finish line, to bag drop, to meeting point, to tube. I love spectating in London but trying to get home from the finish is always a bloody nightmare. Also future tip for big marathons: James had the Bedfordshire flag every time he was at the sidelines so he was so easy to catch sight of, had he not I definitely would’ve missed him in the masses of people!
So would I do Berlin again? Most definitely. Incredible course, incredible experience, perfect in fact in terms of organisation. The breakfast run on Saturday (6km for runners and their families finishing in the Olympic Stadium) was one of the absolute highlights, although potentially the reasons why my legs weren’t rested. We also went to see FC Union Berlin play and walked about 9km the day before, and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat because I refused to stay in the hotel all day resting my legs!
If I were to do another marathon, I would train better – I managed the weekend long runs but got lazy when it came to midweek running. I was really lucky I got to the start line considering I was quite ill the week before the race, but actually I need to look at the things that caused me to be ill in the first place (wine, late nights, crap food). There’s no point committing to another marathon if I’m forced to wing it on race day AGAIN – I’d just like to feel confident before a race for a change!
Oh and it’s probably time to buy a gel belt!
Post marathon pint of wine? Ok.
If you got this far, thank you for reading! No more marathons for me for a while, I’ve run three in 18 months and I’d quite like to chill, maybe work on 10k and HMs. However, my name is in the London ballot so potentially in a few days, I could be eating my words 🙂
I don’t normally blog before a race buttoday is an exception because of my current situation.
A week ago today, I felt confident about Berlin Marathon. My training had gone well, similar to that of my last marathon, and due to the flat terrain I was hoping for a PB.
However the Tuesday before the race I felt my glands were getting bigger and by Wednesday night, I was running a high fever.
I was and still am slightly devastated (writing this with 24 hours to go). Could it really be that after months of perfect training this last week of illness will ruin everything for me?
I have no idea how I’ll feel on the start line tomorrow. I know that it won’t take more than 3 miles to discover I’m not fully over the sickness and I’m not even sure I could finish the 26 miles if I was struggling at that point. I’ve never DNF’d before and my pride may never recover if I have to.
I arrived in Berlin yesterday and went straight to the expo. The place was full of inspirational messages and anxiously excited people, and there was me, feeling uneasy, hot, tired, ill and the whole experience was a bit rubbish for me.
All I can do now is hope for the best. It’s Saturday and I’ve woken up with a sore throat but no other signs of illness. I haven’t run for a week but I’m heading out for the organised breakfast run this morning – a 6km jolly for marathoners and their families from Charlottenburg Palace into the Olympic Stadium (!!) which I’ll run with my boyfriend wearing our Bedfordshire flag. It will be the indicator on how my fitness has been affected this last week. I don’t think the germs have gone to my chest, which would be the clincher for a DNS, but in the next few hours we will find out. A slightly odd post but I need to write a public disclaimer in case it all goes to shit and hopefully if anyone has experienced something similar and still had a great marathon, you can tell me now so I’m assured that the last few months and the ÂŁÂŁÂŁ I spent to get here haven’t been a complete waste!
As I’m training for my first autumn marathon (Berlin), I’m having to find new ways to squeeze the miles in around my summer holidays (Still hoping there’s a parkrun in Magaluf). Lucky for me, I found a 10 mile race taking place on the second day of my holiday in Isle of Wight so couldn’t resist signing up.
Firstly, the course was great. Ten miles is my favourite distance anyway, but this course was ultimately five miles up, five miles down. A marshal told me this around mile six so I cruised home knowing the worst was behind me.
It was a small race – around 170 participants – offering great views on quiet, country roads, also allowing my personal cheer crew (James and Ghost in the car) to crawl alongside me like (I imagine) Salazar does with Mo Farah.
On a personal level I felt great. The rain was biblical for hours before the race, forcing me to think “just get round”. However it miraculously relented about five minutes before the start gun, which meant my ‘training run’ now had potential for a race. And I got stuck in.
My diet and lifestyle (read: wine consumption) has been appalling of late, but somehow I’m still getting faster. The only explanation for this must be the great speed sessions offered by my running club every week; my natural pace has now improved by at least a minute.
Ghost and I were able to squeeze in another two off-road runs while I was away, exploring the public footpaths, ruining my shins through bramble bushes and running the route of the famous 1970 Isle of Wight festival. When I got to the top of Afton Downs, I sang Hey Joe to the dog and it felt just like that moment I walked the crossing outside Abbey Road Studios for the first time.
Next time you take a good old British holiday, find a race to run, or just have an adventure in your running shoes – you won’t regret it 🙂
Last year’s marathon (my first) was a mess. I started too fast, got a stitch at mile 13 and was walking by mile 17. I knew I was fit enough to run sub-5 hours, but I made bad decisions on race day and came home in 5:41.
I returned to the scene of the crime 364 days later. I wasn’t going to, but MNDA offered me a free place after I ran it for them last year, so it felt rude to decline. This time I was running with friends, had completed more long runs (two 20-milers and one 19) and felt I had experience on my side. I also had more than one target this time – a) 4:45, b) sub-5, c) keep running!
Miles 1-6. I set out with the 4:45 pacer and my friends Emily and Gilv. These miles should have been fairly relaxed but the pacer started unexpectedly fast. I had planned to run 10:52 minutes per mile but pacer was running an average of 10:30, at one point knocking out a 10:07! I spent a lot of this time worrying but eventually forced myself to trust the pacer and relax.
Miles 7- 13. These miles flew by and I was still with my friends at 13, crossing the halfway point in 2.15 – seven minutes ahead of schedule. We’d planned to speed up at halfway if we felt good, and Gilv did so we lost him at that point. I was feeling sheepish and wanted to stay with the pacer but Emily wanted to maintain a 10:40 pace so I took a risk and stayed with her.
Mile 14. Saw James and Ghost for the first time. I couldn’t stop but Ghost managed to lunge into the passing runners and give me a big old lick on my hand. He’s awesome, but not as awesome as James – my excellent boyfriend who did very well following me around the course, dog in tow!
Mile 15-17. I’m not sure I remember anything about these miles except trying to hang on to Emily. I would’ve never had the courage to run those fast early miles had it not been for her and the 4:45 pacer, who we were now well ahead of.
Mile 17. Saw my lovely mum, Ruth and her family. Again I didn’t want to stop so we had to do a quick exchange of gels and fresh tissues. In the kerfuffle, my mum dropped her dog’s lead and he had a little run with us – that was cute. I also saw James again at 17, stopped for a quick kiss and kept running… Ghost started crying like a baby when I left him for a second time – he must have been so confused!
Mile 18-20. These were my least favourite miles; Id lost my grip on Emily so I was alone and the 4:45 pacer had caught up with me, chatted for a bit and then disappeared ahead of me. I’d slowed to 11:30 pace and started worrying about my time. I considered walking but didn’t want to until after mile 20, so onwards I went.
Mile 20-22. Literally the moment I crossed the 20 mile timing pad, my mood changed. I realised I’d never run this far before and suddenly I didn’t want to walk, so I resolved to run to 21 and then walk. I basically got through on this bizarre method of fooling myself into running one more mile.
Still worried about my time, I did some quick calculations and realised I could run 12 minute miles from that point and still finish comfortably under 5 hours so I relaxed completely.
A man in a yellow top ran past and I laughed and said I thought he was a pacer. He turned back and said: “Don’t worry, you’re well away from that” [referring to the 5:00 pacer], which made my heart swell with joy and also made me happy my maths after 20 miles hadn’t failed me.
Mile 22. I turned a corner and there was Emily. I was so happy to see her but also gutted for her that she was walking. I told her we could run 12 minute miles and still finish sub 5 and that boosted her. We were running together again, with 5k to go!
Miles 23-25. By this point I knew it was in the bag so I had no trouble running, albeit slowly. I was also really looking forward to the MNDA cheer point at mile 24 (where one of the lovely volunteers ran with us for a while). Emily however was really struggling and I didn’t want to leave her, so I turned a little bit militant on her. Every time she started to walk I’d yell: “I’m not finishing without you so you better catch up with me!” and “I’m sorry I’m being mean, but you’ll appreciate it once we finish!”
Mile 26.2. The journey to the stadium is fantastic. Last year I felt so defeated that I was incapable of enjoying the final moments. I was embarrassed and wanted it over. This year I wanted to soak it up. First thing I did when entering the stadium was look for the clock. I knew we’d crossed the line a few minutes after the timer started, but I still accelerated when I saw the clock said 4:58 (you can see in the video above, I’m still telling Emily to hurry up!). We crossed the finish line hand in hand and that was that, marathon done.
So nothing went to plan, but everything went okay. The pacer took us out faster than I wanted but it took the pressure off when we slowed at the end. I lost Emily, which was my biggest fear, but I was able to sweep her up later on. If we’d both maintained the fast pace, we could’ve both burnt out. Our final chip time was 4:50:48, which makes me the happiest person in the world. I wouldn’t change anything – except perhaps the weather (It was HOT).
The best part of my day was explaining to Gilv that the time on the finish line wasn’t his actual time, and he was chuffed to discover he’d run eight minutes faster than he thought. He was happy, we were all happy, and we smiled like sweaty goons outside the stadium.
And now? I’m going to chill for a week or two. I don’t want to see another bowl of pasta for a year. When my legs have recovered, I’m going to start working on my speed for shorter distances. Then come July I’m going to start upping my miles in preparation for Berlin marathon in September. Yeehah!
My sponsorship page is still open if you’d like to donate here.
I drafted this blog during the 3.5 hours it took me to run 16 miles today, because the Ashridge course is basically like fell running. I should’ve remembered this as I ran it last year, but I can only assume running is like childbirth where you miraculously forget the pain and think it’s a good idea to do it all over again.
Here are my thoughts in real time:
Mile 1. Woop, last year I ran the whole thing alone but look – this year I’m surrounded by people. How great. My legs feel good. Let’s do this.
Mile 2. I’m alone.
Mile 3. Oh god, what a mistake. I don’t remember this big hill at mile 3? I can’t believe I’m walking at mile 3. I’ve just remembered I haven’t done any hill training for ages. Fuckery.
Mile 4. EVERYTHING IS AWESOME! Forgot this song was on my iPod! Sweet, let’s do this.
Mile 5. GEL TIME YAY
Mile 6. I approach the water stop and ask for a water bottle with a lid. The marshal looks at me like I’ve ordered a pina colada. This is a common occurrence, because I like to sip my water on the way round like a fine wine, but I seem to be in the minority. Please if you’re a race organiser and you’re reading this, ask your marshals to not rip all the lids off all the waters for the sake of freaks like me.
Mile 7.5. One of the marshals tries to take my half-full (rare with lid) bottle of water from me. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Let me drink my water ffs.
Mile 8. At this point, my legs got tired. So tired. And I was only halfway!
Mile 10. This looks like a good point to DNF, I could call my Mum to come and pick me up. Except… I’m the proudest person in the world and I’m likely to drop dead before I DNF. Onwards.
Mile 11. I’m really cold by the point. There’s a weird misty rain and I’m wearing a short sleeved shirt. My arms and hands have gone pink and swollen with the cold. I try to blow my nose but can’t get my ice claw hands to do it properly.

 Mile 13. There she is – the Ivinghoe Beacon. By this point, I’d decided not to run the hills. Last year, at mile 13, I beat myself up for having to walk the hills because I was so exhausted, but this year I just didn’t want to. I took a couple of selfies and ran the bits that I could.
Mile 14. I fell over. Tripped on a root and went down in the mud. I laughed about it with the next marshal I saw but the shock of it knocked me a bit.
Mile 15-16.2. I knew it was relatively flat from then on and my last mile was 10:41, which is around my normal pace. The last bit felt like it went on forever, but I finished in high spirits and felt nowhere near as defeated as I did last year (even though my time was 14 minutes slower!). Might as well enjoy it while you can, and that’s what I did 🙂
However, I’ve not TECHNICALLY run 20 miles before, because the wheels fell off my marathon long before the big 2-0.
“It’s fine,” I’d tell people. “I’ve agreed to run the whole thing with a man I met on the Internet.”
And that’s where the fabulous Frankie came in; both of us had confessed that our training was naff so if you’re gonna go down, why not go down together?
We were joined by Frankie’s friend Kate in the first few miles and ran, giggled and shared stories as a solid trio for the first 11 miles.
Even after Frankie dropped off at Mile 11, Kate and I carried on to bash out the final 9 as a duo. I started having dark thoughts at mile 14 when my legs hurt and 6 more miles seemed like forever, but I was determined to stay with my new friend, even though a few hours earlier we’d been complete strangers. Even a Marshall yelled at us: “Well done girls! Work together!”
At miles 16-17, especially passing the Cross Keys and the Redway Runners support point, my mood started to pick up and I felt like I’d really conquered those dark thoughts that sometimes ruin races for me.
With two miles to go, Kate went for it but I couldn’t hang on. I had a little chat with myself and resolved to just keep running. THAT HILL at 19.5m stopped me dead in my tracks and I yelled at no one in particular: “Are you f–king kidding me?”, but composed myself and carried on.
Saw my Mum with about 500m to go yet it still felt like an age to the finish. Crossed the line and allowed myself to slow to a walk for the first time in three hours. Medal. Rain started. Home. (No goody bag? Boo.)
I felt fabulous afterwards; I was bouncing off the walls. How bizarre after Brighton Half I was inconsolable due to exhaustion, yet after 20 miles I felt better than ever.
And my previous post about mojo is completely negated now. And what cured me? Challenging myself. A half marathon was never going to get me excited because simply finishing one doesn’t challenge me now. Three days later I still say 20 miles out loud and can’t believe I ran the whole thing. Twenty!
I’m running Milton Keynes Marathon 2015 for the Motor Neurone Disease Association. If you enjoy my blog, please consider sponsoring me. Thank you!Â
Running with Ghost 