Tomorrow I run a marathon. It’s my second marathon. It’s probably my last marathon. It doesn’t feel like my second. It feels like it’s the first. But maybe not. It feels like the first because I don’t feel like it is possible that I have run this distance before. But I know I have.

Over the last few days I have been nervous, terrified, grumpy and tearful. Today I feel settled. There isn’t any other way to describe it. Settled. What ever happens, happens.  It’s irrelevant whether I am ready or not. It doesn’t matter that training hasn’t been ideal. This thing is happening and it is happening tomorrow. I’m sure the nerves will come back tomorrow. I am sure I will once again be terrified but for now I’m settled.

We travelled down to London this morning. Everything went smoothly and after dropping our bags at the hotel we headed over to the Expo. Maybe we were just grumpy but the organisation seemed so much more chaotic than the Expo at Disney. In spite of having more space it felt cramped, it felt like we were being herded through, it was difficult to really look at anything and I was underwhelmed by the official marathon merchandise. We got our numbers and timing chips and got out. Maybe it’s just that if you’ve done one Expo you’ve done em all. Maybe my anxiety levels were just up because of the number of people. Others certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Then we had a quick photo for the Clubhouse – the online running club I’m part of – and it was great to briefly meet some of the people I feel like I know but have never met other than on Facebook. I’ll write more about the Clubhouse and the Too Fat to Run community soon but do check out the Fat Girls’ Guide to Running blog – which has just won the best blog award at the running awards.u

Since then we’ve been taking it easy. We had some food and watched something about Lego on tv (I wasn’t really concentrating so can’t tell you anything more about the programme). Our kit bags are sorted with a change of clothes, our kit is laid out and ready, our race numbers are pinned on and timing chips attached. We are well hydrated, we’ve had a bath…

Even writing this I still feel settled. Tomorrow I’m running a marathon. Thank you for all your support!

 

 

 

 

well actually it’s one sleep and then 8 days to go. I’m back in denial. Marathon? What marathon. Oh that, yeah it’s ages away. Of course I’m ready, I’ve got ages… Yep, denial works for me.

If you want to insist on reminding me that this thing is happening. Please sponsor me here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/jessguth

Yesterday I went for a little jog, you know to keep the legs moving. I ran 1.25 miles, some of it was muddy, some of it hills but it was only 1.25 miles and it was at 14 minutes per mile pace. That in itself doesn’t really matter. Slow is fine but I felt like I was dying out there. It was so hard, my lungs were burning and my legs were protesting. See, I can’t run.

After the initial ‘what the hell’ yesterday I stopped worrying about it and just thought it is just one of those funny things. I was tired after work, hungry and probably quite dehydrated. It was good to actually just get out and do a little bit. I was fine with that.

I’m not fine with that now. Nowhere near fine. How is it possible to feel that crap after 1.25 miles. What’s that all about. I’m never going to make it to 26.2. Aaargh. Ok I know I need to snap out of it. I know I need to trust the miles in my legs, the fact that I’ll be rested and properly fuelled and hydrated on the day, not to mention the adrenalin the occasion will bring. But FFS, 1.25 miles whatever the pace, I should not feel like my lungs are going to explode. It’s going to be a very very long 26.2 miles and the sofa and chocolate biscuit are ever more tempting.

Please share your taper nightmares with me here – it’ll make me feel better!

So first of all the response to my calls for sponsorship over the last couple of days has been fabulous – thank you all. If you’d  like to add your support please do here http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/jessguth It sounds really cheesy but seeing people sponsor me does actually help calm the nerves – it means people believe I can do this thing – or at least they hope I can.

So today I feel a little bit different but not much. I am still in ‘I can’t do this’ mode because I just don’t think I can but I am also having more classic marathon jitters. My thought process about getting to work this morning might explain. This all happens in my head before you worry too much:

1. I am getting up now
2. Why? It’s safe in bed
3. No, I am getting up now
4. Ok but don’t fall down the stairs
5. I’ve never fallen down the stairs, ever
6. Yes but you might…
7. I’m going to get the bus to work
8. Really?
9. Yes, why?
10. You’ll have to walk to the bus stop
11. Well, yes…
12. Downhill
13. Yes
14. You might slip and fall and break your leg and not be able to do the marathon
15. Hooray, or not, maybe not, ok I’ll drive
16. No, no don’t drive you might crash
17. ok I’ll walk, then bus
18. ok but walk the long way round and don’t go on the slippery bits
19. And don’t get on the bus if the driver looks dodgy
20. ?????

I got to the bus stop in one piece – funnily enough and this went on in my brain:

1. Your hamstring is tight
2. Yes
3. You’re injured
4. No, I’m just a bit tight, didn’t do any yoga
5. You’re injured
6. No
7. YOU ARE INJURED
8. No, no I’m fine
9. GO HOME YOU ARE INJURED
10. No I’m fine
11. NO – OH BUT DON’T GO HOME – THAT’S UPHILL
12. Shut up I’m getting on the bus

I’m at work, I’m fine but I am  in full blown marathon paranoia. if it hasn’t already tarted the roller-coaster of emotions starts here. I’ll let you know what tomorrow brings!

 

You know when I said I was fine? I’m not. I’m really not. I am at marathon panic stations, wtf am I doing kind of not fine. The thing is until this morning I was fine. I was worrying about logistics and things but worrying in a sort of ‘right, what needs doing, what maps do I need to print, have I got all my tickets and confirmations’ way. Now I’m in marathon meltdown.  I haven’t even been thinking about it much today. I was happily editing (well re-writing) a very very long overdue chapter and actually making progress to the point where I might actually finish this thing (that would be a miracle) and then it suddenly hit me – in 12 days time I am supposed to be running the London Marathon.

Well that’s just silly isn’t it. I can’t do that. I don’t run. I’m really not a runner, at all, ever. I don’t do things like that. I sit on the sofa and watch others do that. I listen to the stories others tell of their sporting heroics and smile, knowing I will never do that, I will never have those stories to tell. I can’t run a marathon. No way. So that’s where my brain is at the moment. That’s how I feel. Logically of course that doesn’t make sense. I have completed 26.2 miles before – just a few months ago in fact and I did so after having run the 3 consecutive days before. I did Dopey, didn’t I? It doesn’t feel real. Just because I have done a marathon before doesn’t mean that I think I can.

Dopey doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t feel like it was me that did that. It just doesn’t seem possible. I know that I know far more about running than I used to, I know what a sensible training plan is, I have learned loads about eating and fuelling and the importance of good underwear but I don’t actually feel that I can run. I don’t know I can run, what I know is that I can’t run because that’s the way it has always been. Today I am very much the fat kid at the back of the PE class. I see the evidence of my running achievements and of how much I have improved everywhere – the medals, the notes on the training plan, the garmin and yet I don’t believe the evidence. I am not a runner and only runners do marathons. So part of me just wants to hide and just not do it. I’m not going to be able to do it anyway so why bother trying. I don’t do things I’m not good at and I am certainly not good at running. Let’s just forget about this. Plead temporary insanity, put it all down to an early midlife crisis and retreat back to the safety of a chocolate biscuits and maybe a nice walk….

But I did do Dopey. That was me. I can feel the weight of the medal as a pick it up and look at it in disbelief. I remember the joy of running the 5k, the warm rain of the 10k, the community feel of the half marathon and the humidity, pain, dispair and extacy of the marathon. I remember knowing I couldn’t do that but I did. I remember thinking 26.2 would never come, but it did. I am scared, more scared than before Dopey, partly because I know what is coming and partly because Dopey was far far away in a magical place where pixie dust is real and this is London. You know, the London Marathon, the thing we watch on TV, the thing that proper runners do, not fat girls with stupid goals trying to prove that fat girls can and do run. I know I can’t do this but I also know I will.