13.1 Miles of Madness

I’m a super keen runner. I absolutely adore getting outside in my trainers and a cute running outfit— it makes me feel at one with nature, in touch with my body, and full of endorphins. However, training for a half marathon wasn’t the aesthetic ‘Instagramable’ venture I thought it would be. My vision of effortlessly striding along West Sands at sunrise, conquering the Fife Coastal Path, and creating running montages on Lade Braes was, unfortunately, a facade. In reality, training was a chaotic blur of infected blisters, antibiotics, blood, more antibiotics, and strep throat. Gorgeous.  

But I made it! (Just.)

Three Days to Go

In complete panic, the real questions arose: What if I’m too slow for the people I’m running with? Why if my toenail decides that now is the time to part ways with my body? Was I supposed to start carb loading already? What even is carb loading? I wasn’t supposed to be running this close to race day, so the most athletic part about me was the increased heart rate from deciding on my race day outfit.  

Two Days to Go

My final full day in St Andrews: a mix of uni work, pre-race nerves, and a disastrous realisation that, no, gluten free carbs do not provide the same energy processes as normal carbs… oops. If carb loading wasn’t hard enough, Coeliac disease wasn’t making it any easier. But after some tears to my mum, she reminded me that pasta is not the only form of carbohydrate and that I was at liberty to eat as many potatoes as my heart desired. Mum truly does know me best.  

One Day to Go

Travel day! Six hours on a train from Leuchars to London with cramped legs (even at 5’5, the LNER legroom is criminal). But things were looking up: I reunited with my cool London-living cousin, was taken out to dinner by my boyfriend’s family, and checked into a luxurious hotel. Unfortunately, my phone was stolen while eating ice cream outside the tube station (God forbid a girl has a sweet treat), and my most pressing concern was that I wasn’t going to be able to Strava my run- priorities. 

Race Day: 

I’ll be honest, the hardest part about the race was having to pee from approximately mile 3. I barely remember the first (or any) mile, but I remember that there were people everywhere. Music. Confetti. Inspirational signs. My adrenaline was off the charts. My watch buzzed at 5K- a personal best. Okayyy, slow down girl, I told myself (which I promptly ignored).  

Running past the landmarks I’ve only ever seen on postcards was surreal. Running past the Bank of England, however, I could have missed. The atmosphere was electric—there were so many runners, so many supporters, and so much love. I felt fantastic… until mile 7 when I realised I had to do all the running I’d just done, all over again. This is when the mental side of running became apparent. But I kept going, kept begging to turn the corner and see the finish line, or at very least, a water station.

The event raised almost £14 million for charity and I contributed to that! I felt part of something so much bigger than myself and it felt unbelievable. 

The Finish

I crossed the line in 1 hour and 53 minutes. My first half marathon was a personal best in every distance. I crossed the finish line with a measly 7 toenails and, surprisingly, I didn’t feel like collapsing- until I stopped running. Post race fuel: 3 bottles of electrolyte water (and then a prompt retrieval of a sick bag because my body could not retain that much fluid). 

Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Well… maybe give me a month or at least wait until I have a complete set of toenails.  

Running the London Landmarks Half Marathon reminded me that my body is capable of incredible things— even when it’s slightly broken, overstressed, dehydrated and running on vibes. To anyone thinking of signing up for a half marathon: do it. Sign up scared, train tired, and run with your whole heart. I promise the post race pint is worth it. 

• exercise
• half marathon
• health
• running