10K

Well, blow me, I just about did it. I ran slowly for a full 10 kilometres. I didn't stop, cry or throw up. I just kept at it and the kilometres gradually went by and eventually, after the longest 1.5 km of my life I got to the end. When it came down to it, the hardest thing was still how bone-grindingly, mind numbingly TEDIOUS running is.

For something so dreadful, the day taught me a great deal.

Firstly, it taught me that 20,000 people is a lot. If you end up near the tail end of 20,000 people, waiting to get to the start line, and you can see about 19,500 people in front of you, you really do start to properly worry that when you start running, 499 people will immediately overtake you, tutting, and you will, officially, be the last person to cross the finish line.

Secondly, it taught me that if you run all the way very slowly, you will probably not be the very last person over the line, but you probably will be in the last 1% (estimate - can't face looking online*) which is still quite embarrassing and also means that if you could only learn to run a bit faster, not only would you feel less self-conscious, but you'd also get the whole miserable thing over with more quickly.

Thirdly, it taught me that I can do it. That if I grit my teeth and just keep going I can run a fairly long way. Longer than I have ever run my life before. Given another 12 weeks, I can probably run further. 13 miles, perhaps.

Fourthly, to my surprise, it taught me that my lungs are stronger than I realised. In fact, my lungs gave the performance of their lives. Steady, even breathing, no burning pain and a really quick recovery. Given the terrible drugs, radiation and whatnot that has been chucked at those poor organs, never mind the whopping great tumour they shared chest space with for almost half a decade, I am enormously proud of them. Well done lungs.

My legs, on the other hand (and fifthly) are useless. Even before I had started running, they were feeling stiff and achy and nervous. Yes, I had nervous legs. From the 6k point onwards they were really very grumpy and between 7and 9 they begged me to stop. I refused and they grudgingly put on the wimpiest final performance ever. Today, they are not speaking to me.

The sixth thing I learned was that if I don't know my route very well and therefore don't know when a hill (well, a slope, it's not exactly fell running) is about to appear, I deal with it far better than if I know it's coming.

This is because (seventh) I barely look up when I run and so quite often don't realise I'm on a hill 'til I'm half way up it and think "God, this is hard" and by the time I've worked out that I'm actually going up hill, I'm nearly at the top. I think my posture is very poor indeed when I run.

That posture thing not only matters because it means I have bad technique, it also matters because I learned, eighthly, that if you are towards the end of the pack you are a really easy target for the zillions of official photographers who line the route. In a few days time I have no doubt that some hard sell official photo agency is going to be filling my email inbox with dozens of links to pictures of some revolting, overweight, stooped, sweating, red faced plodder who looks like she might fall headlong into the gutter at any second. Next time I read an article of racing tips that smugly advises, "Remember to smile so you have a super momento of your wonderful day!" I shall track down the writer and cut their fingers with the sharp edges of the paper their piece was written on.

Eight learnings....let me see if I can make it ten...one for each kilometre.

Yes, I can. Learning nine is that it's great to have supporters. I saw the little group of Brook cheerleaders, including Lucy and Dave, twice and each time it gave me a boost and I loved them for standing in the rain and cheering me on. At one point, where the run loops back on itself, I found myself desperately scanning the faces running the other way for Steve because I'd have liked to cheer him on. In fact, I passed a decent 10 minutes doing that which helped take my mind of the run.

And learning 10...Oh, that's easy, I learned that even if someone has only done four training runs on the road in the lead up to the race, you still feel fantastically proud of them when they charge round in less than 55 minutes *and* pick your medal up for you so that you don't have to faff around in the disorganised chaos at the end but can head straight for a slap up celebration lunch.


And, by the way, THANK YOU to everyone who has sponsored me. Don't worry if you haven't yet, though, I've still got months of work to do and my next goal is another 10k in September followed by the dreaded half marathon in October. There is still plenty of time to sponsor me at www.justgiving.com/hilliershitthetarmac



*Ok, I looked. I was in the last 4%. And a full 200 people didn't finish.