My story, by Yvonne Wyke.
This is a full marathon of 26.2 miles and is notoriously one of the hardest marathons in Europe.
The Marathon Day
At 10am, on a very wet and windy Sunday morning my debut marathon started. It was the end of October, the weather was being anything but kind. By 9.30am every one was completely soaked, the start area was flooded (nice wet feet just what you need before running 26Miles) and the strong gusting wind nearly blew me off my feet, the race hadn't even started yet.
Spectators were wisely huddled in cars with flasks of hot coffee, amongst them my husband and 2 children, Amy 7, and Joshua 3. I very reluctantly got out of the car at 9.0am so they could go on ahead and so that I could get to the start area and warm up !!! This was warming up like I'd never known it before, no sprinting and striding here – no, just lots of huddling! Huddling together with lots of strangers next to the tallest vehicle you could find (and the tallest men for that matter) in a vain attempt to keep out of the howling wind and rain. Then at the last possible second taking off all unnecessary wet clobber, and unceremoniously lobbing into a van in a black bin bag. Unfortunately the rain had dissolved most peoples name tags, so collection of said gear after the race was interesting!
At the start line I was nervous, I had trained hard all year, culminating in 70miles a week of running whilst juggling being a full time mum to 2 small children, but nothing could take away the fact that this was my first marathon and whilst I was determined to give it my best shot, 26.2 hilly miles is a long way.
The first 5 miles was fun, it really was – Even though the first miles are up hill, significantly up hill, and the gusting wind was definitely against us. In fact sometimes the wind was so strong I just felt like laughing - it was probably something close to hysteria but it felt brilliant, here we all were, over 1,200 people, running a flipping long way and the weather was doing its level best to ensure that you were getting nowhere fast – it was time to rely on the age old tactic of hiding behind somebody bigger!
The seven year itch - more like the 7 mile stitch ! Somehow the thought that I still had over 21miles to run seemed to have slipped my mind and I ran the next couple of miles as though I was doing a 10k - then I paid the price. I got a stitch at around 7 miles, NOT GOOD with still 19 miles to go. The next few miles passed in a blur of pain and determination (I've had stitches before when racing , this one was not going to beat me) It moved from one side of my ribs to the other, I told it (as we were quite well acquainted by now, me and my stitch) that moving around was not very helpful and if it was all the same could it just move out! It went at about 10 miles.
Not Quite Half Way
At 12miles the race passes through the small village of Beddgelert, and given the conditions of the day, I would not have been surprised if all the spectators stayed indoors – but it was brilliant, loads of people spectating, whistles and shouts like you hear for the downhill skiers, and I was still in the lead. I felt proud, but a bit daft, everyone was being so supportive and encouraging, I felt like I should wave, but then I'm not famous so I just didn't know whether to keep my head down and concentrate.
The next big hill is more of a gentle giant, and by that I mean it isn't very steep but it is loooong. I could feel any remaining zip being sapped out of my legs as I started to struggle to maintain my pace. People I'd been hanging onto (not literally of course, although at this point in the race it could have been quite helpful) suddenly started to pull away from me. I just kept my head down and tried to concentrate on a steady rhythm.
Tummy Troubles!
Running a marathon I found really was a whole body experience, no part of you seems to safe from some pain or another – I'm really selling this aren't I – I can tell you are now itching to get out there and run one too! By 15 miles my stomach started to do somersaults – I think it's hard getting the right balance of fluid and carb. replacements, just take on too much and your stomach complains! By now, my mind was wandering, should I stop for a wee (maybe then I'd feel better)– but then I might loose the lead and loose it psychologically, should I slow down a bit, conserve some energy – after all there is still a long way to go – no don't slow down then it will take even longer to finish and you will have to suffer for longer - - arghhh!! Keep it simple, just keep putting one foot in front of the other for as long as you can. so I did.
But at 22 miles I walked, I didn't want to walk, it wasn't part of the plan but I hit the last steep climb and my legs crumbled. I still kept putting one foot in front of the other, telling myself that walking up this last steep hill was about the same pace that you could run it – but it wasn't. I was overtaken by 2 female runners and a handful of men. I was gutted. The pain in my legs and lungs at this point outweighing the emotion of loosing the lead – my legs felt so weak I really wondered at this point whether I would complete the race. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou to one man (in a lilac and purple vest) – another competitor, we had been together for just about the whole race, he started to get away at 13 miles, then I caught up and overtook him at 20 miles. He caught up with me near the top of the last climb at 23 miles and said the few words of encouragement that I needed . I plodded a few more steps, the hill leveled out and I suddenly regained hope that this race wasn't over yet.
I felt a bit mean as I overtook my friend in the lilac and purple top, but it was downhill, steeply downhill, it was muddy and I was going to run down that hill as fast as I could. So watch out anyone in my way. I started to catch the girl in second place, I could see she was treating the steep decline with a lot more respect and care so as not to break an ankle – but *** that, I had chance to regain second place so I flew down that hill like a woman possessed, my legs were completely numb by now, all shock absorbency gone, every steep downward step winded me, but this was near the end, I was not going to give in.
As you come into Llanberis, you can smell the finish line is somewhere to your right, but the course turns you left and meanders round the village for what seems an eternity. How can 0.2 of a mile seem such a long way? When I saw the 26M mark I still wondered if I could hold on to my place, the last few steps seem to last forever, the finish line is in sight, loads of people cheering you on, I catch a glimpse of my little girls hat as she's sitting on her Daddy's shoulders. I finished. My lungs hurt, breathing is hard, talking impossible. But I did it, I came second in my first Marathon, one of the hardest marathons in Europe, my children have been my inspiration and my support. My husband, the loyalest supporter of them all.
With a view like this at the end, do you want to join me next year?
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