|Paul - Glen - Darren and Craig - Adrian behind the lens|
I did it!
Only three months after announcing, right here at Glen’s Life, that I would run ten Kilometres (6.2 miles) in aid of Cystic Fibrosis and to support my Brother-In-Law, Paul in his attempt to run the London Marathon next week, I am ecstatic to announce that I completed the course in 1 hour and eight minutes.
Glen and Craig half way point
1 hour 8! Brilliant. My running app, which produced this map, says we went 13K. I think I will be deleting that app as it is clearly an idiot. www.mapmyrun.com says we did 10.2K and Craig’s watch said we did it in 1 hour 8 so that’s what I’m going with.
I was joined on the run by Paul, the guy whose marathon attempt I linked up with, Adrian, Darren and Craig. All of them are ‘gym types’ and runners and all gave up their time to help a fat boy like me make an easy jog for them look difficult. In the pub, waiting for us, were my mates, Mike and James. All of these guys are brilliant for doing that – let’s hear a massive round of applause for the boys!
Meanwhile, a big thanks also to Leanne who came all the way from Cambridge to hang out in the pub with us. She had intended to run as well but was unable to due to an injury – she came anyway. So let’s also hear a big shout out for the girl and her friend Ash who also came along.
It was hard. Really hard. I chose running along the canal because it would be flat so I was more than a little vexed to discover a lock half way along that meant we had to go up a hill and a section under a bridge that was closed, meaning we had to go up and over – killing my legs in the process. You can see the video of my half-distance interview and decide for yourself how knackered I was.
Glen and Darren fail to impress at the finish line
With just over a kilometre to go I mentally kicked into gear and instructed my legs to pick up the pace – I was after a big finish. However my legs told my brain to sod off and refused to go any faster than they already were, thank you very much. What that meant is that my arms (goody two-shoes arms) did as they were told and started swinging at a much faster pace than my legs were going. I looked like the Duracell Rabbit as I hobbled along the streets at 10 strides a minute but banging an imaginary drum at 100 beats per minute. Nothing my head could do mae any difference – my legs were absolutely adamant.
Only one us looks like he ran 10K - guess which one?
Until we rounded the last corner before the end and I knew I was there.
Then my legs chimed in and decided they would try and get all the glory with a sprint finish.
I was a blur.
I sprinted. My arms and legs were back in sync and I looked like an athlete for the first time in my life.
Right up until we reached the very last corner and discovered that instead of turning easily to the finish, right in front of the pub, I actually found a temporary wall. Building works were going on. Access to the road was blocked!
Leanne - Mike - James and Ash doing the hard work
We had to run around the wooden fence and I just crumbled. I’d done my big sprint finish and that was all I had left, I had nothing. Running around the fence added on perhaps 50 metres at the very most – but that was enough. I had no fuel in the tank and all I could do was slowly limp around it before finally reaching the waiting crowd (Mike and James) looking flustered and sweaty and ill, like I usually do when I have to walk past Greggs the Bakers because my wife is looking.
It wasn’t the dream finish I’d hoped for but it didn’t matter.
I did it – thanks to a lot of support from the guys and a whole load of people who supported Cystic Fibrosis by giving up their hard earned cash for the cause. Thank you everyone.
Now I need a pie.