Doing Hard Things Round 2: The Great North Run

September 9, 2025September 9, 2025 Jess Guth3 Comments

Last weekend was a weekend of running adventures. Different adventures and experiences. On Saturday Kath took part in the last of the 2025 Due North CIC trail half marathon and 10 km series. I marshalled and had a lovely 90 minutes or so at the top of Malham Cove clapping and cheering on runners doing both the half marathon route and the 10km route before heading back to the finish to help hand out goodie bags and pies. It was glorious and energising and inspiring. Kath did really well, the runners were fabulous and it felt inclusive, supportive and fun. Maybe one day I will get myself in the right space to have a go – at the 10km route.

Sunday was the Great North Run. I hadn’t trained for this. I had barely run since the Rasselbock Half in July and I hadn’t trained for that either. Was this a stupid idea? Well yes and no. I thought about pulling out several times. I got messages reminding me to trust my training and enjoy it – good advice, assuming there has been any training to speak of. So what was I thinking going in? Well, I don’t like DNS. DNS is worse than DNF. To me not starting just feels like complete failure. The only times I won’t start an event are situations where I am either genuinely injured or not well or where I know I won’t finish and starting would mean that I have to rely on event volunteers or staff for help or where I present a risk of being a medical emergency. If not finishing has minimal impact on others, I will start even if I might not make it. Psychologically, I had to start this one. For me. To silence the voices in my head that have been getting louder and louder, insisting that there is no way I can currently get round a road half marathon.

I was anxious. I didn’t much like the crowds as we walked through Newcastle to the start, found the baggage bus, queued for the loos, made our way to the assembly area and stood around for a while. I found my zen somehow. Then we started moving forwards in little waves. Then the red arrows flew over making me smile. Then we were off. Kath set off and I very quickly lost sight of her as I tried to settle into my run/walk. I didn’t really like being in the wave we were in because I was surrounded by much faster runners. This was the pace that was ambitious but realistic when we signed up, before I just didn’t manage to get myself out there with any consistency. It was the pace I have managed to get close to before. But right now I am a long long way off that pace. I was really conscious of getting in other people’s way. I tried really hard to tuck in and not take up space. I tried really hard to be ok about my run/walk.

The support was incredible but also overwhelming and at times it felt like the crowds were closing in. I had flashbacks to the London Marathon and people getting right in my face and I could feel panic rising. What can I feel? Sticky – my fingers are sticky from my drinks bottle. What can I see – a unicorn, a runner in a unicorn costume just ahead of me. What can I hear – my name being shouted with lots of encouragement. And I am grounded again for a little while before the panic comes again – in waves. I don’t feel like I belong. I am still running 30 seconds and walking 30 seconds. It is all actually going to plan. It’s all fine and yet it isn’t. I battle the panic from just over 1.5 miles to the 5 mile marker. I am walking much more now and I can’t quite settle. I do the maths in my head – how long will I be out here, how much longer to get to the finish, how long will Kath have to wait. I resist the temptation to check the app to see how she is doing. If I get my phone out of my pocket I might call her to say I am calling it. I might cry. I am crying. I think about maybe just not doing this.

I wonder if I can get to half way. My right foot hurts, my hips hurt, I keep scanning my body and the message is always the same – there is some pain but none of it is serious and none of it is a reason to stop. Mile 6 feels like it takes forever. It was actually faster than the previous mile. As I pass 10k I suddenly feel a bit more positive. Maybe there is a slight break in the crowds coming past me. I’m not sure. I just feel less anxious. I start to take more notice of the signs and the support. I start to feel a bit more like it is ok for me to take up some space. A bloke from 2 waves behind me walks along side me for a few paces to fuel, asking if we are nearly there yet and I cheer him up by telling him we are very nearly half way. He tells me I am doing great and then disappears off into the distance. Somehow the interaction makes me smile. I realise that an earlier one had played on my mind – I had dropped into a walk and a bloke came past me, turned to look at me and said ‘For fuck sake’. I am pretty sure I didn’t block him. I am pretty sure I wasn’t in his way. I am pretty sure he didn’t have to change his line. I hope that taking out whatever was going on with him on me, helped him get it done, I also hope that he has a particularly energetic batch of fleas hatch in his pubes.

Mile 8 was a big thing in my head. I am not sure why – other than maybe running maths. I was thinking in 15 minute miles. I knew I was going slower but for the purposes of my running maths, 15 minute miles worked well. 4 miles an hour. Which meant that if I could get to 8 miles then I only had to do another hour and then I would only have a mile to go. The additional minutes and the .1 don’t feature in running maths. When I made it to 8 miles I knew I would finish. I didn’t know how long it would take me but I knew. The doubts about finishing and whether maybe it would be better to pull out were gone. I settled into the pain. I kept telling myself that I only had to keep doing this for another hour. If I could push through for an hour I would be nearly there. Then we saw the red arrows. I am not sure there are many places on the course where you can see them so this felt like my own personal 8 mile celebration.

I tried to run a little every mile – and I did but I think in miles 11 and 12 I only ran for 30 seconds each – it hurt. I kept pushing the walking – that hurt too. I found focus in the pain somehow. I knew it wasn’t dangerous pain, I knew I wasn’t doing serious damage or injuring myself. It was just my body telling me that it wasn’t prepared for this and that it really wasn’t entirely happy about what I was asking it to do.

As I made my way down the short sharp slope before the ‘finishing straight’, two women passed me and one said to the other ‘now prepare yourself for the longest mile of your life’. And it is. You turn and it feels like you should be there but you still have a mile to go. The support is loud and brilliant. After an age I got to the 800 metres to go sign. I kept walking as fast as I could and talking to myself. Both firm and reassuring because giving up now would be stupid wouldn’t it. Never mind the longest mile – the 400 metres from the 800m to go to the 400m to go sign were at least 3 miles long. It felt like forever. I started jogging really slowly at the 400m sign. I glanced at my watch and realised that I would probably just get under 3 hours 40 if I kept pushing. I got there. I crossed the finish line and felt – well nothing really. I walked and got water, a medal and a bag/t-shirt and made my way through the crowds to find Kath (she did really well). We queued for an hour or so to get on a bus back into town and got back to the hotel about 10 minutes before our dinner reservation. Job done.

So reflections. I can do hard things. This was hard. I am annoyed at myself for lack of training and the resulting lack of fitness is just embarrassing and silly. No excuses. I didn’t do the work. The Great North Run was not fun. This particular ‘impossible’ was not fun to do at all. It just was. I am glad I pushed through and did it. It was a good mental exercise and I am proud of myself for coming through those first 5 miles of waves of panic. 2 days after the run I am sore, sore but not broken. This was my slowest road half marathon ever, slower than the first one I ever did at Disney World in 2013. Over an hour slower than my PB and nowhere near my running ambition which is to run strong and happy. The positives – I am mentally tough. My superpower might just be a complete inability to accept that I can’t do something. Realistically, starting on Sunday was a bad idea. It was always going to be pretty awful and yet doing it and it being awful was still better than not doing it. Because I have done it, I know what needs work. I have pushed myself into a place where I want to do the work. Doing the GNR on Sunday was the test I think. It was always going to tell me whether I am done with longer distances or whether I want to keep trying. And I’m not done. While I was out there, as painful and horrible as it was, I also knew I wanted to be there and I wanted to be back and do it again, properly, with training and preparation. Sometimes doing hard things is about saying, yes, this is hard, and it hurts and that’s my fault and next time, I’ll be ready for this. Next time won’t be easy, but maybe next time will be a happier hard.

Doing Hard Things

August 18, 2025 Jess Guth1 Comment

*Me, about half way round the Rasselbock Half Marathon*

I started this post quite some time ago – just after finishing the Rasselbock Running Half Marathon at Sherwood Pines just over a month ago. What I started trying to articulate then was that I like to think that I am quite good at doing hard things, that I am ok out of my comfort zone and that I trust myself to do have a go, figure it out and get it done. Just sometimes, I forget. I signed up last minute and did the half marathon to prove that I can indeed still do hard things and that doing those impossible things can indeed be fun. I was struggling for the words then and sort of gave up on the post.

I think I was struggling for words, because what I just said doesn’t quite capture it. I have been thinking about it and now, a month and a bit from doing it and 3 weeks away from the Great North Run, I think I am beginning to untangle it a bit more. So I think the reality is more like this: I love my comfort zone and I love being good at things. I generally only do things I know I will be good at. Being pretty good at school from the start, learning to read and to swim early and being good at horse riding when I first learned as a kid – and those really being the only things I did – I never learned how to learn and work at something. I never actually learned to do hard things – nothing I had to do was hard to me and anything that was hard, I just didn’t do. And I pretty much managed to get through life like that (not consciously, I am just lucky that what I am good at conforms to what society expects – I did well at school, I went to uni, I got a good job and even though it wasn’t quite that simple or linear, it pretty much holds true). And then I started running. I am a crap runner. And I don’t usually mind being a crap runner. Running has taught me 3 key things that I don’t think anything else ever has:

You can be objectively awful at something but still really enjoy it and get pleasure and the benefits from it. Objective success based on society expectations or on what others can do is pretty meaningless.
You can find something really really hard, both physically and mentally and still want to do it, sometimes even enjoy it and get a lot out of it. And the feeling of having enjoyed something once you have finished it even if you didn’t really enjoy it at the time, is a powerful thing.
You can get better at doing hard things. You can train yourself to do hard – not just to get physically better or mentally stronger so that the hard becomes easier- although that’s part of it – but to think about doing hard things in a different way. It’s a way of believing in yourself, trusting yourself and not accepting a ‘no, you can’t do this’ – even from yourself.

But when my running isn’t going well or I am struggling to get out, I no longer feel like I can do hard things. The ‘can’t do this’ voices get louder and doing the impossible no longer seems like fun, it just seems impossible. I retreat to the girl who was good at everything she did because she learned to avoid anything hard. But life’s not like that as an adult. Life is full of hard things. Work is hard – often just with volume of stuff, but sometimes also intellectually. Article revisions, managing relationships, juggling priorities… it can be hard and I am better at it when I remember that I am good at doing hard things. And I become much more confident in my ability to tackle anything when I am consistently running, because consistently running means I am consistently practicing doing hard things. My mental strength and ability to get things done, work at things, prioritise and push through are not something that I have brought from life to running, they’re all things that running has brought into the rest of my life. So without running consistently as a reminder that I can do hard things, the rest becomes the hard things I just don’t do. I end up doing the easy quick win work, I don’t prioritise as well and I avoid the things that will require me to work at them.

And let’s be honest, running has been inconsistent. Some of it has been happy running which has been nice but it has also been easy running with permission to bail out and walk all of it or sit on a beach instead. And that all has its place – but I have not been practicing doing hard things. Not at all. So when Kath saw the Rasselbock Marathon and we discussed doing it so she could get a marathon in as part of her ultra training that particular weekend, I signed up to the Half. Untrained, barely running 2 miles at a time and terrified that I would be so crap that I would be timed out on one of the most inclusive events around. Doing. Hard. Things. I could tell I had got out of the habit because even signing up made me nervous. Was this going to be another DNS or maybe a DNF, was it going to be horrible, how painful was it going to be?

But the thing with signing up fairly last minute means that you don’t have a lot of time to spiral. I was also stupid busy at work so didn’t have much time to think about it and the focus was Kath’s marathon (she was awesome!). I managed to put my half to one side because I convinced myself that I was just going along to support Kath. And then we were on our way down to Sherwood Pines. On Saturday morning we headed for parkrun – might as well. That in itself felt like ‘doing hard’. I was ok going round using my run/walk intervals but I was slow, slower than I am really comfortable with. But that’s just comparing myself to the runner I was rather than focusing on the runner I am now. Nothing hurt though and overall I actually felt ok about the half after having completed the 5k. It was also lovely to see my friend Jo and the Fordy Runs crew at the parkrun and to see the set up for the next day.

Half marathon day came. I set off before Kath. The marathon set off half an hour after the half to avoid congestion on the course. I settled in at the back around the three and a half hour pacer although I had no intention of sticking with a pacer. I know I prefer doing my own thing. However, after a little while the pacer settled in with me. I checked my watch and her pace was off by a lot. We were going downhill and were roughly 14 and a bit minute mining. We chatted a bit and she asked me several times if I thought she was on pace. Then she decided she was ahead of pace and needed to slow down and I thought I would be sensible and join her and we walked a while. Eventually though I remembered that I really need to do my thing and this running faster for a minute and then walking really slowly is not how I pace my run/walk – so I left her and did my thing. I went through mile one at 16 minutes and she was a way behind me so that just confirmed I didn’t want to stick with her. She might be very good at getting round in the specified time but I much prefer even splits. For a couple of miles we leapfrogged each other and then I think she eventually settled into her proper pacing and went ahead. I settled into my own headspace. I was walking more than I wanted to really but mostly I was having a good time. I was enjoying being out there. I was enjoying the feeling of not having a choice but to finish (there’s always a choice), of having a reason to push through the doubts. I just kept plodding. Every now and again I would have a chat with people I passed or coming past me, but never for long.

Kath caught me at an aid station, she was struggling so my focus shifted from me to encouraging her. I had some water and coke and carried on leaving Kath to go to the loo. When she came past me again she looked much stronger and seemed happier. All good. The route was nice – woodland paths, some sand, a lot of shade which was so welcome in the ridiculous heat. Part of the reasoning for this run had been to practice fuelling so I had apricots as well as some haribo and tailwind in both flasks. If I was to get anywhere near the recommended amount of carbs, I’d needed to drink a flask an hour and have several apricots. The haribo were emergency fuel. I was doing ok-ish on the drinking but really struggled eating so gave up on that. When I had nearly finished one flask I wanted to replenish my tailwind at the next water station but I couldn’t get my stick pack open. It just wouldn’t tear. So I gave up in that in a huff and just filled the flask with water and got myself round on that and flat coke from the aid stations. I thought I might like the little pretzels and other things they had but I didn’t want proper food. Not even the haribo. I should of course have just asked for help to get the stick pack open. I honestly just didn’t think of that on the day.

I was genuinely having a great time until about 10 miles. Then I was getting tired. Nothing really hurt, my hips were beginning to niggle. I was pretty much only walking. I knew from my pace that the 3.45 pacers which included my friend Jo would be catching me up soon and when they did it was nice to have some company for a while and chat and catch up a bit. Right towards the end I couldn’t quite keep up with them which annoyed me slightly – I was here to do hard things after all – but I came in at 3.46 something – just behind the first marathon finisher (who had run double my distance in half an hour less than me).

So how did I feel about it. I loved it. I had indeed done the hard thing. I had finished a half marathon in the heat without having trained for it – just going on experience and understanding of how hard I can push my own body safely. I can do hard things. And I did enjoy it and nothing was broken or really painful. Girl did good! But now, a month on. Hm. I walked most of it. It’s the slowest time I have ever recorded for a half, did I really do a hard thing? Didn’t I actually just stay right in my comfort zone and not push? Wouldn’t doing hard things actually mean running more than I did, not stopping to walk quite so easily, having less fun and more determination to get it done more quickly? And I honestly don’t know. Well, no, I know that I couldn’t have pushed much more without risking injury or heat stroke or at a minimum just utter misery. And I keep trying to remind myself that ‘hard’ does not mean miserable and awful or stupid and risky. And what I did that day was hard. There were times when I wanted to stop but not seriously, and there were times where I did push myself to run a bit more and to get moving. I am trying to remember that I was taking a baby step towards getting used to doing hard again. But I don’t quite believe it.

How I feel now is probably shaped by running since then. I have, once again, not been consistent. I ran a little 5k the week after, another 3 miles in the Yorkshire Dales a couple of weeks ago and a 5 mile plod along the canal at home last week. That’s it. Hardly sensible or even useful Great North Run training. So yeah, The Rasselbock Half was all about reminding myself that I can do hard. And it was a well timed and needed reminder. That reminder now needs build into a habit. Doing hard as a one off takes effort and willpower. Being practiced at doing hard, being in the habit of just doing it even if it seems impossible, being comfortable with the possibility of failure but refusing to not try because I might fail, or worrying about the possibility of being outside the comfort zone, finding something tricky or not being able to do it – all those things come with consistent running and re-wiring my brain so it doesn’t just know, it also believes that doing the impossible is fun.

Yorkshire Dales running day

April 26, 2025 Jess GuthLeave a comment

I went for a little run today which felt a bit silly because Kath was on a big run. It was the Due North Burnsall Half. So while Kath was making her way over 13 and a bit miles of up and down some Dales bumps, I plodded along the river for three quarters of a mile. Not quite the same but still a stroke of genius on my part. In my head today was always about Kath’s run and me supporting her. But I also hadn’t run yesterday because I somehow just ran out of steam in the afternoon. I also didn’t run on Wednesday or Thursday because I am utterly useless at getting my arse out the door after work at the moment. So I sort of felt I should really run today and for ages I couldn’t see how I would make that happen. Until yesterday evening when it dawned on my that if my run is 30 minutes and Kath is out on a lumpy bumpy half, I will have loads of time to see her off, go for my little plod, get back, have coffee and cake at one of my favourite cafes and welcome her back at the finish.

So that’s what I did. I’ve done 3 runs of running a minute and walking 90 seconds 8 times now so it is time to try the next set of intervals on the plan. I’ll see how I feel because my knee started niggling again the other day although it was mostly fine today. I probably turned round one run too early as I ended up with a bit of a random loop but had I continued I would have been that really annoying person who comes past you on a path and then almost immediately stops and turns round. So I turned before I got tangled up in a group of hikers. After my run I had coffee and banana and pecan cake at Riverbank Burnsall. If you ever find yourself in this part of the world, pop in. The cake is always excellent and I have had worse views drinking my coffee!

After coffee and cake I went back to the finish area, wandered around a little, read through a paper that I need to revise and resubmit to let it whirl round my brain a bit and watched the first 10km runners come in. After a while I got bored just sitting so walked down to the river and back. There was now a steady stream of half marathon finishers coming through so I stood at the finish and clapped them in. I heard lots of mutterings about ‘bloody hills’ and the run being hard, oh and those ‘bloody hills’. There was some shaking of heads as people crossed the finish line – mostly in disbelief rather than disappointment I think and a few ‘I’m not doing that again’ or ‘I did not like that’ comments. One poor guy who wasn’t local had done all his training on the flat. He seemed a little overwhelmed (as well as knackered). All those initial ‘fuck that was hard’ sentiments seemed to quickly melt away into exhausted but happy chatter all around me. Everyone seemed to agree that it was a brilliant but brutal course.

I spotted Kath coming over the iconic Burnsall bridge – well it is iconic if you’re from round here – you see the bridge, you know its Burnsall. Anyway, I saw her run across the bridge and make her way into the field and down the finishing stretch where I met her with a big hug she didn’t really want. (I should know this. I mean the last thing you want when you are trying to work out whether you are going to puke, fall over or cry and in what order is someone giving you a big squeeze hug – but I was excited to see her and didn’t think). It was a hard fought one for her and I am very proud of her. She’s so good at doing hard things. We picked up her goody bag and her well earned Cornish pasty and sat for a little while. Then I drove us home and have tried to help with recovery by providing food, an ice pack, water, cups of tea and kind words. Somehow I am very tired now. I shouldn’t be. I had a little plod and then spent most of the rest of the day doing very little.

Anyway, I can highly recommend the Due North events and now that there is a 10k option I might have a go myself. Those hills scare me a bit, the runs seem way more impossible than a road marathon but if I can get myself running fit then why not? Why not add another impossible thing to the list of impossibles I would like to do.

London Marathon – Ballot entry But Why

April 25, 2025 Jess GuthLeave a comment

It’s that time of year again – London Marathon Ballot time. I have entered. Of course I have entered. It’s almost a ritual now and of course I won’t get in because most people don’t get in most years. But what if I did? I’ve been thinking about that because, as I may have mentioned, I really did not like my 2019 London Marathon. I have said several times that, unpopular as that opinion may be, I don’t actually like the London Marathon. And yet… So I have been thinking about that. Because if I really didn’t want to have another go, then why enter the ballot – just makes it even harder for people who actually do want to run it to get a spot. But there is part of me that does want to run it. There is a part of me that wants to go back and put the demons of 2019 to bed. And I don’t mean that I need to be faster than 2019 or anything like that. It’s more that I would like the race to leave me with more positive memories. Because memory of races is funny isn’t it. What I remember from the 2019 London Marathon is not that the first few miles were pretty good or that I got to 11 miles without any issues and feeling pretty solid and that I had my shit together. What I remember is missing Kath, slipping on Lucazade and hurtling to the ground, the pain in my hip and moving forward to the finish just because that was the only thing I could logistically think of to do.

So let’s stop there a second… I had my shit together, I was running well, I stopped for a pee and lost a lot of time and from there on in struggled to get my head right again. I fell, I was in pain and yet, I went on to finish. I look at that now and can’t really quite believe that was me. I can now step back and admire the strength. It didn’t feel like strength at the time but it was. Re-reading the blogs from the 2019 marathon still makes me emotional. I wrote that all the way round I wasn’t sure I wanted it enough and also that I was probably done with marathons. I think that was absolutely true and how I felt at the time but things have shifted. The world has changed and I have changed and I think I’m beginning to see more and more clearly what running far gives me that nothing else quite can. I miss the clarity of thought that comes with it. I miss the feeling of being able to do it. I miss the confidence in what my body can do, what my mind can do, what I can do. I am back where I started when we trained for our first Dopey – I want to do a marathon because I don’t believe I can. I want it because it’s impossible. I want it for me because people like me don’t run marathons.

And London, why London. I could pick any marathon. Well, that 15 mile marker and I have unfinished business, I still haven’t run across Tower Bridge or along the Embankment and I want to. As much as what I wrote in 2019 resonates, I also want to believe in the power and magic of one of the most iconic marathons in the world. If I do get another chance at running it, maybe my first one in 2016 can be my London Overwhelmed, my second one in 2019 can be my London Grumpy and my third could be London Happy. I’m back running now, taking baby steps, building slowly and stretching and doing strength. I could get physically ready over the next 12 months and I am absolutely mental enough to do the impossible.

Solstice Saunter 2024

June 21, 2024 Jess GuthLeave a comment

Good Morning from the muppet who didn’t really stretch after completing the 5 mile Solstice Saunter yesterday. I’m not too stiff or achey but I didn’t sleep all that well because my body seemed to be working its way along each niggle to try and work out what to do with it – so it felt like I was mostly awake with something or other hurting a bit.

I like the Solstice Saunter. It’s held at Bolton Abbey annually on the day of the Summer Solstice. It’s a 5 mile undulating course which is very familiar because most of it is on our usual Bolton Abbey loop. As an added bonus the medals are always stunning. I was looking for to it. At the back of my mind was that little bit of doubt given that I didn’t exactly find parkrun a breeze and 5 miles on a hilly course is a different thing altogether from 3 miles on mostly flat. But I always wanted to go and do this.

So we set off, probably a bit too early really and got there about an hour before race start. We picked up our numbers, went to the loos, sat by the river for a bit and eventually wandered down to the start. At the start Kath and I split and Kath went further forward (I don’t think she quite went to the ‘nearly quick’ section, the name of which made me laugh). I stayed at the back with the slow jog/fast walk crowd.

We set off in waves and as we did I smiled and noted how the first jog felt nice and easy, good slow place, nothing silly or exciting as so often can happen at the start of a race. I immediately dropped into 30 second run/ 30 second walk intervals. I was around a couple of people running with dogs and neither had particularly good control of the dogs so it was slightly annoying. I thought about dropping back and keeping them in front of me but after a couple of run intervals I had left them firmly behind me and forgot about them. Then for about half a mile I kept going past and then being overtaken by a woman who was running constantly. I would go past on my run and then she would come past on my walk. Eventually though she moved ahead and I was quite happy to let her go. I was a mile in and it wasn’t easy.

Mile 2 has a lot of up in it and I didn’t even try running that. I was already feeling it and I wanted to enjoy it and stay positive so for mile 2 I walked up the hills and ran/walked down. It was a slow mile but quite a nice one. After that mile I was in a sort of bubble. I could just about see the person in front of me and I could just about see a couple of people behind me but basically I was on my own. It was perfect. I ran/walked fairly randomly for the rest of the loop really. I topped briefly at the water station for a conversation about the universe expanding – yep more random.

As I got close to the aqueduct there was a photographer and as I approached I said ‘You’re going to make me run aren’t you’? He insisted he wouldn’t but I did anyway and kept going for a bit once I had passed him. Then there’s another uphill so I marched up that. That was a fairly consistent pattern, power march up, jog down. The route here is up and down and not in a straight line so mostly I couldn’t see anyone. Bliss!

I got to the bottom of nemesis hill and could suddenly see a few people who were closer than I had thought they would be from when I had seen them earlier. I tiny little competitive streak appeared from somewhere deep down. I marched up nemesis hill as I have done so many times and when I got to the top I had gained on the people in front quite significantly even though they were on the downhill. Game on! I jogged down and was now pretty close. I also still had just over half a mile to go though, so let’s not peak too soon. I stayed behind them as they jogged and I ran/walked. With every run I was getting closer and I wasn’t dropping back in my walks. With about a quarter of a mile to go I passed them. At about the same time my left calf starting getting a little crampy on the run segments so I slowed off a little but kept the interval. Then I popped up over the last hill, saw Kath and broke into a job that somehow I kept going to the finish. The field finish was tricky terrain on tired legs and it felt like I just sort of threw myself over the finish line. Yay done.