Apparently, that is how long it is until the Manchester Marathon. I’m quite conflicted as my daughter is travelling overseas at the moment with her lovely boyfriend (Gap year shenanigans) and I’m missing her a lot and want her arrival home to come quickly and it’s 29 sleeps until I see her. But of course, before I can see her, there is that little matter of 26.2 miles.

When I wrote my last blog, I was genuinely very unsure whether I was going to run the race or not. Self doubt was my middle name, but now, finally and happily, I am in a different mindset.
I am going to start the race and as long as I don’t get sweepered (yes I am trademarking that word) off the course, I will complete it.

It’s been a tricky few weeks. The weather was bad and cold. Work was busy and I had a terrible virus which put me in bed for 2 days in the week before I was due to run the Bath Half – which unbeknownst to anyone else, I was using to make my final decision about whether to run Manchester or not.
In the end Bath Half went fairly well. I decided to just take it easy and aim to simply get round in one piece. One the day, I ran much faster than I had been in training and apart from a random 4 minute window of pain shooting through my left boob at 10 and a half miles, it was ok. When the pain struck I genuinely worried that I was having a heart attack (I’ve read they present in the arms) and I couldn’t breathe at all. I was completely stopped in my tracks. A lovely lady who was sort of running with me (she would overtake me, then I her etc ) stopped to help. Spectators gave me a chair (no idea where it came from) and some orange squash which tasted like ambrosia and then the pain stopped and so I was off again.
I was tired but knew I would finish. However, mile 12 was COMPLETELY uphill. What kind of sick joke is that? All I could hear around me were runners swearing as well as spectators agreeing with us and encouraging us on…I walked this part, angrily and then finally finished, somehow sprinting over the finish line. Merida and Professor Fizz (who had finished before me) were kindly waiting for me, giggling whilst complaining about the hill. I got my medal and went home feeling happy but also resigned that if I was this far in, I’m doing the marathon.

There are a few things I have decided/learnt over the past few weeks.
1) I can definitely do the marathon, I genuinely think anyone can if they train for it. The only variable is how fast they will do it. I am hoping to beat the sweeper and will do my best not to get caught so I can get my medal. Else, I will riot.

2) This is probably the most important one – the marathon is going to hurt. All the training plans take you up to a longest run of 20-22 miles, but the marathon itself is 26.2 miles. Basically from 17 miles, everything starts to fall apart and it hurts. You’re hungry, thirsty (and my goodness I have learned a lot about fuelling and hydration over the past weeks) and everything will ache. I have reconciled that once you understand this, it’s not as scary as it was. It’s going to hurt like a female dog. Accept it and carry on.

3) I am exhausted all of the time and fairly grumpy. My life revolves around
• How many hydration tablets have I had in a 24 hour window?
• Why do my ankles hurt so much?
• Do I REALLY need to go upstairs?
• What’s the earliest time I can go to bed and not seem antisocial?
• Can I squeeze in a nap in my lunchhour?
• And constantly planning the best route for the long run.

4) My face is falling apart. I noticed around Christmas that I was developing excsma around my nose and summised this was due to the fact that I was sweating a lot. (I am a very sweaty runner). At this point of training, my face is almost falling off. I have scabs and I’m applying nappy rash cream to my face before I head out for runs. I am looking forward to returning to shorter, less sweaty runs – and probably more swimming and a day at a spa for a facial.

5) Bras. Now I could write a whole blog on this alone, but basically, my bras are trying to kill me. The chafing is off the charts and I look like I have been whipped with the chafing taking the top layer of my skin off under the band (front and back). It then is very sore and then scabs up, just in time to be ripped apart again by the following long run on the next weekend. I have tried Vaseline, body glide and various other emollients. I have bought new bras and these do the same or (in the case of one of them which is underwired) stab me. I have puncture marks on the front of my boobs and under. It’s not good and nothing works. So I refer myself back to point number 2. It is going to hurt and almost certainly bleed.

I’m entering the final stint with the biggest run on the plan for this weekend – 32k (20 miles). I have no idea when I’m going to do it yet as I have a family birthday party this weekend and pilates to fit in, but it will get done. Then the taper will begin with long runs going down to “only” a half marathon and then 10 miles. What weird universe are we living in when this is what I am typing ONLY a half marathon and I’m pleased? This universe. This is my universe and I’m as shocked as you are.