Marathon number 4: Barcelona Marathon

It has taken me a week to sit down and write about Barcelona.  I have had such a mental block about it, mainly due to exhaustion.  What's funny is, while I was running the Barcelona Marathon, I kept thinking to myself  "Oh I must remember to write about that", I had so many of these moments, and yet it's taken me a whole week to drag it all from the depths of my, tired running memory. So here goes....

I was so excited about doing this marathon. Mainly because the last 2 I have done have been so low key. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed running them both, but I missed the streets lined with thousands of people shouting my name. I missed running along side thousands of other runners. I never realised how much until my foot stepped over the starting line.

I travelled to Barcelona, on my own, Friday night and arrived into the early hours of Saturday morning.  I set my alarm nice and early to get up, have breakfast and go and collect my race number.  I had picked my hotel well.  Not only was it really nice, with really helpful staff, who I pestered quite a lot for help, but it was so close to the marathon expo, which was also where the start and finish of the race would be.  As I approached the expo, the marathon excitement started in pump into my veins. The whole area was manic with runners of all nationalities.  It felt like I knew them all.  It felt like they were all my long lost friends. I just wanted to hug every single one of them with excitement. I rushed inside to collect my race bib.  Then I realised that as I was on my own, there was no one to take the standard race number holding picture for me. I had to find a willing Spaniard to do it for me. Picking someone who is also on their own is the key, as you can offer to take one for them too (I sound like such a loner ha ha).

So I had my number, and my free t-shirt (which wasn't all that exciting), and made my way into the arena.  I then wondered to myself, "why I get so excited about this part?" They are never that exciting in reality.  I didn't need to buy anything (does anyone?), but I ended up buying myself 2 more official t-shirts, and some gels and got the hell out of there fast before I bankrupted myself. Plus outside was BARCELONA!! Why be stuck inside when I could be outside exploring this amazing city.

Race Day

Before I knew it, it was race day. I set my alarm for 5:30am (now remember this time, as it plays a huge part in the story down the line). The start of the race was 8:30am. This gave me 3 hours to get my shit together. Loads of time. I spent 45mins battling with my hair. Trying to plait my hair with stupid bits of orange ribbon was a bloody mistake. Though, somehow I was changed into my running gear, checked out of my hotel and was walking up to the start by 6:30am. This was the time the race village opened. I thought it would be nice to just be there to soak up the atmosphere and chill out. As I approached the baggage drop, I couldn't help notice how super busy it was. I remember thinking, "oh god, people are keen, so early". The penny hadn't dropped. I got into the very manic, long queue to hand in my bag and got into an even longer queue for one last toilet visit. Again, everyone was rushing about, as if the race was about to start any minute. My phone was saying it was 7:20am, I had plenty of time. As I made it outside to find my starting pen (at the back as usual), they were playing Queen's song 'Barcelona' really loud, and a huge confetti bomb went off. I thought "this is a lot of fuss before the start of the race" (penny still hadn't dropped). After a struggle of squeezing passed hundreds of panicked runners, I finally made it to pink starting zone. As I go there, it starting moving forward, then another confetti bomb went off. Penny dropped. "Oh FUCK!!!" the race HAD STARTED!!! I suddenly realised that my phone was still an hour behind. So in actual fact, I didn't set my alarm for 5:30am, in actual fact, it was set for 6:30am. Can you imagine if I had over slept a little. Oh it doesn't bare thinking about. I had no time to stretch, nor get mentally ready. It was time to go, go, go!

I was almost in a daze for the first 3 miles. I wasn't mentally ready at all. Then I started to focus on the crowds. This helped me get myself into marathon mode. Hearing all the Spanish people shouting "Go!!, Bravo", "Go Kerry" was what I needed.  I was in control now. Enjoying every mile. The sun was shinning, the sky was a beautiful blue colour.  I was loving life. I was loving this marathon.  Other runners where running passing me by and making comments on my 15 marathons challenge, as it is written on the back of my vest. This was brilliant.  People taking the time to congratulate me on what I am doing, while they are running, was truly humbling. A lady from Florida made a huge effort to run over to me, just because she wanted to shake my hand. 

Meltdown

What I have loved about running Paris, Berlin and now Barcelona, is they mark the race in Kilometres. I prefer this, as it feels like it's going quicker. In the UK they are marked in miles. Waiting to hit the next mile sign seems to takes ages. Especially when you are mile 20. Boy does every mile after that seem to take forever.

I was doing so well. My body was strong, my legs were strong.  Then, just after 29k marker, my mind started playing silly buggers. I started thinking about all the people in my life that I loved. Friends, family, work colleagues, the Chinese delivery guy, who brings me my food when I am having a lazy day! I started thinking about how they all contribute to my life and how much I love them all for it. Even the delivery guy! I suddenly felt lonely. It quickly dawned on me that I had no support in the crowd. No familiar face to give me a pick me up.  No one at the finish to give me a hug and say well done. I grabbed my phone from my pocket to read a few good luck messages to get me through this mental fail.  The first message I saw, was from someone very special to me, that said "good luck, I am so proud of you xxx" This was it. I ran for a good mile crying my eyes out.  Here it was, my meltdown! I have one every marathon. I can never stop it from happening.  It comes on unexpectedly. I usually have a good cry, get it out of my system and snap out of it. 

The sight of the sweeper bus put a quick stop to it. (sweeper buses pull runners off the course if they are running too slowly and falling behind on pace)  Even though it was a good mile away, the sight of it was enough to get my mind focused back on the race. I got to 35k before my legs started to feel really heavy.  I really had to slow it down. I was now running along a road lined with palm trees, with the sea on my left.  I can't tell how beautiful it looked. The sun was so bright, shining down on the sea, made it look like sea was full of crystals all sparkling away.  I had to pinch myself to remind myself that this was happening. So beautiful.  I turned my head over my shoulder to look behind me, and saw the sweeper bus every so close. Too close in fact!  I had slowed down more than I had realised. I had to keep telling myself to stop looking behind me, and to just run. The sweeper has never caught up to me, and 35k into the race, there was no way I was getting pulled out of this race.

I suddenly met a Greek runner, who ran with me for a few kilometres. He was my saviour. He chatted to me which helped pass some time, he then ran on, and left me comfortably running behind. Now at 38k, I turned to my right to see that the sweeper was right by my side. How the Fuck did that happen?  I felt sick. Please, please PLEASE do not stop me. I looked at the driver, who looked me straight in the eye and signalled his hand, in a gesture of RUN RUN RUN. I had an Ultimate warrior moment. "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING, I WILL NOT BE STOPPED" I took a huge deep breathe, turned up my music, looked straight ahead, dug deep down for every bit of strength I had left in me and ran for my life.

Let's finish this

40k. Only 2k to go. This is it. I have done it (all most). I had ran the sweeper off my back. Too far behind to stop me. Nobody was stopping me. Every inch of my body was hurting. I was sunburnt to buggery, but I had to block it all out. I had to finish it strong. The crowds where amazing during the last stretch. Cars were honking their horns, people where ringing their bicycle bells at me, people waving their Spanish flags. It was incredible. It was like I was winning. I was using the pain I was in as my power for finishing. 500 yards to go., then suddenly 100 yards to go. One last deep breath, I closed my eyes tight, squeezed my fists together tight and ran to the finish with tears of happiness streaming down my face. I opened my eyes to see my feet crossing over the finishing line. I has so happy. I had beaten the sweeper. That is all I could think about. To me, I had won. I walked over to the ladies handing out the medals, and as one of them went to hang the medal over my neck, I grabbed her and hugged the life out of her, and sobbed like a baby on her shoulder. She had no choice but to hug me back!! I wasn't letting go. I cried with relief and happiness, and the world of pain I was in. I had pushed myself so hard, but it was worth it. I am a person. I will never doubt this. When the going gets tough, I know how to fight on.

I really feel like I did SENSE proud in Barcelona.  I was proud to be wearing my Sense vest, and proud to be running for them.  So that makes it marathon number 4.  Still a huge amount of marathons ahead, and it is about to get ever so tough for me.  I can't allow any doubts into my mind what so ever that I can't run 3 marathons in one month.  I appreciate that it is going to be very hard, but I am ready to take it on, Marathon number 5 will be in Brighton, which is only 3 weeks away. So let's 'av it 

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Milton Keynes Half Marathon

There is something about this race that makes me keep coming back to it.  This is the third consecutive year I have done it.  I can't even quite put my finger on what it is.  It's in Milton Keynes, so it's not the most glamorous of half marathons.  They aren't thousands of people lined up in the streets shouting your name, and I have always been very disappointed by the medal.  There is however a lovely lake to run around, and despite all the concrete and roundabouts, it is actually quite green. The first time I ever did this I got a PB and I have not been able to get anywhere near it since. 

I arrived in Milton Keynes for about 9:30am.  The race wasn't starting until 10:50am so I had plenty of time. I casually strolled up to the race village, to suddenly see a herd of runners coming down along the start. The race had started!! Well, don't panic, it hadn't! It was the 20 mile runners start.  I didn't know there was an option to run a 20 mile distance. Totally gutted as I would have loved to have done it.  I have noticed this year that there is a lot more 20 mile races to enter, so I need to remember this for next year!  

Got myself into what was a bloody freezing cold starting line, and was feeling pretty confident. I was looking forward to doing this race.  Off went the gun and off went.  I felt great. My body was playing ball. Found a nice comfortable pace really early.  It usually takes me a good 3-5 miles to feel relaxed into my pace. Then just passed mile 5 and I felt like someone had jabbed my in the stomach with a knife.  I had the worst stitch.  I tried to walk it off and every time I thought I had got shot of it, and started to run again, it would come straight back. Why? I have never experienced this before. This was it for the rest of the race.  Annoyed is not even the word!  I got to about mile 9 and I found myself running alongside a guy that I know from Instagram. I just love meeting other runners I follow from Instagram. It was just what I needed. He talked and walked and ran and talked a lot more with me until the finish.  He was great support.  We managed a sprint finish too.  Probably wouldn't have managed that if I was finishing on my own.

 I really thought I was in for an over 3 hours half marathon and was feeling so gutted about it, but I was just under 3 hours so was not all bad. Well, still got great, but better that I was dreading.  Next stop BARCELONA :-)

Bake Sale Fundraiser

My fund raising is just going from strength to strength now. I'm stunned and completely overwhelmed with people's kindness and generosity.

My school kindly allowed me to have a Bake Sale Yesterday. I've done them for the last few years and usually raise around £100- £120 pounds. I did everything in preparation as I have done previously. Sent letters out to parents, kindly asking for cake donations, and inviting them along, and posters in the staff room asking staff for the same.

The day arrived. I'm always nervous to see if I actually receive any donations, and not only that but people actually turning up to buy them.  Sure enough, 9.30am on the dot, one of our school governors arrived,  bought a whole box of cakes and had to shoot back to her office. Then they just starting arriving in their dozens. It was insane. People buying cakes, people arriving with more cakes, it was completely manic! Then the kids and staff came at different times To buy cakes. People were just giving me money left right and centre. I was sure I'd made about £200.

Before I knew it, it was 11.30am. I did my raffle and packed everything away. I just had to count it straight away. I can tell you that it was above and beyond £200. I can announce that the grand total raised was £350.55. I can't say thank you enough. I don't care if I'm starting to sound like a broken record. I'm so grateful to everyone for supporting me.  I'm ever so close to reaching the £2k mark. This is the most I have ever raised for charity. 

I have one more event coming up, Charity Bingo on 21st March. Then I will be having a break from fund raising until May. My marathon schedule is so heavy, I need to be looking after myself, and resting in between races. So I'm counting on people donating for now.  Which is easy to do, just click on the link below. Thanks again.

Please sponsor me at by clicking here!