Tag: half-marathon

That’s a flipping long way….

Posted on by chunkyrunner41

Nerves were very much a factor in the 24 hours before the Manchester Marathon, with all my hydration mindfulness and carb loading threatening to be undone by a terrified tummy. As we arrived at the tram stop to go to the start at Old Trafford, with around at least a million other people, I prayed that it would behave and I wouldn’t become a meme or cautionary tale.

My husband and his gang went off (earlier starts) and Merida and I dropped our bags, joined a never-ending toilet queue and then set off to the start. It was at this point that we said goodbye and good luck (Merida is much faster than me) and I tried to gather my thoughts.

If you’d read my blog before you’ll know that I don’t fare well in hot conditions. Indeed it was one of the reasons why Manchester had been a choice being famously un-hot. I had even over-prepared for this unlikely sunny day by doing my long runs later on a Sunday and it had been warm. However, already at 10.30am on Sunday it was warmer than ideal and although I was determined not to stress, I was a little bit anxious.

Some loud music, a countdown and then we were off.

Merida and I had had a good honest chat and I knew that I was likely to “swept” by the bus on the latter parts of the race, but I would and could still finish (you don’t have to get on the bus, you can move to the pavement). BoB was coming up for the day to support and she was dressed to run/walk for a bit from mile 18 with me (expecting to be swept around mile 20/21) to keep morale up. My youngest daughter and her friend Rose were also on the course so I was feeling quite positive.

The first 10k went by quickly, fairly comfortably and without incident. Manchester were out and they were loud. Support on the race was fantastic. The weather was great for the supporters with roads closed and garden parties in full swing.

But it was hot. My feet were burning and I felt like I was running on hot coals. I tried to ignore it and keep going but at mile 9 I felt light headed and had to stop for a wobble and was sick on the side of the road. Of course, a Marshall came flying over to check and I wobbled even more. She held my hand, poured water over my neck and suggested I take a little rest and perhaps not carry on?….I explained through my wobbling lip, that I had to keep going due to sponsorship money and this silly blog that I write… We negotiated for a bit and I promised to be sensible so she said to go slowly and she would ask a friend to look out for me a bit up the field. I nodded and wobbled off.

Her friend appeared about 4 minutes later (clearly had been looking for me) and again my legs threatened to buckle. I think it’s sometimes better to be left alone in your vomit, misery and terror for as soon as someone is nice and caring to me, it makes it all so much worse. It’s easier to give yourself a kick up the arse as there’s no other option but to finish (I mean, I’d trained so hard) but when kind strangers are mopping your brow and telling you perhaps you should call it a day, it’s harder to keep going.

I was plopped on some steps in the shade and some nice policemen sat with me for a bit. I knew I had to get up and move else the demons would take over so I promised I would walk, and against everyone’s advice I walked round the corner.

For the next few miles I ran/walked at 30/30 but it got hotter and hotter and around mile 15 it became clear that if I was to finish in one piece, it would be walking.

I called my daughter as I was desperate for a friendly face and she and Rose found and walked with me for a bit which was amazing, but I was still quite teary and feeling a bit pathetic. Then around mile 17 or so (honestly it’s a bit fuzzy) BoB appeared. Bob is an extraordinary woman. She has 4 sons, a very big job and has completed numerous marathons and usually does a full Ironman every single year. I am in total awe and she was exactly what I needed on Sunday. We had originally planned that she would be joining me for 5-6 miles of run/walking but there was no running and she could instantly see that.

So we started to walk. But it was still 10 miles to go and that is a flipping long way on it’s own. But walk we did. She regaled me with stories of her times living in Manchester “back in the day” and I followed her obediently, eating salt that she ran into a pub to retrieve, dipping my finger into electrolytes like a sherbet dip and drinking water, often. She cheered and clapped the kind and welcoming spectators and she even carried my hydration vest when I stated angrily that I was throwing it away as it was “too heavy”. She named herself my “Marathon Butler”.

I was still having the odd physical wobble in the heat but kept moving forward with purpose.

Manchester meanwhile were DRUNK and SO magnificent. Gorgeous humans were out with their hoses sprinkling us to keep us cool, offering water in their own cups, cheering, clapping, whooping and in one terrifying moment and lady, who had clearly been “supporting” through several drinks over several hours, grabbed my hand and tried to make me run. My glutes and hamstrings were cramping off and on from about mile 18 and this was dangerous so I politely said I can’t run but she cheered all the same.

The sweeper bus found us about 19 miles. I had been dreading it even though I knew it was inevitable but they were kind and supportive. They explained that we just needed to move to the pavement as the roads would be re-opening (have to say, apart from one stretch on the lead up to a motorway, actually the roads didn’t reopen at all) but we had 8.5 hours to finish to get a medal. I was so relieved and we had a cheer – I was going to get a medal and I WAS going to finish. We kept moving forward.

Everything hurt at this point. Feet were 100% on fire, ankles were sore, knee (and my knee NEVER hurts) had a weird spiking pain that kept going through it, my shoulders were aching and glutes and hamstrings kept cramping. Honestly, it was like a comedy sketch that wasn’t funny at all.

Finally, after 7 hours and 42 minutes I crossed the line and got my medal. Husband, his gang, Merida, daughter and Rose were all there. I was absolutely elated and completely broken. It was a weird sensation.

I’m not sure if I would have got round without Bob and her never ending positivity. I wasn’t a snivelling wreck (most of the time) but I was in pain and definitely not enjoying myself so it can’t have been the best 10 miles she’s ever travelled. But I am forever grateful for her walking with me and thank you “BoB” for being my friend. I will never, ever forget it.

I’m proud to say that I raised, to date, £1062 for Mind. I am so chuffed with this. If you donated, thank you so much. If you’d still like to, the link is here: https://www.justgiving.com/page/claire-tiley-2?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL&utm_campaign=015

Husband got in under 4.30, Merida under 5 hours and Mr Canard just (excrutiatingly just… argh) over 5 hours. All struggled in the heat but all got it done and done in style. It was so tough out there. Well done.

It was a busy day for the outstanding and wonderful marshalls and emergency services as so many people were taken ill in the heat. The earlier Marshall that had helped me actually walked past Bob and I in the latter stages of my race on her way home. She cheered and shouted and was obviously delighted to see me carrying on and still upright. These lovely people give up their day to support and look after us idiots and they’re invested in our success. Thank you lovely marshals.

After crossing the line most of the gang dispersed pretty quickly. Bob, daughter and Rose ran off to catch a train home. Husband and his gang (who had been hanging around for quite a while waiting for me) also then disappeared back to their man digs and this left Merida and I. Merida was in pretty good shape after running a marathon (she is a queen as my girls would say) and so she shepherded me to the pub for a pint of cold sweet lemonade, and then organised an Uber to collect us as the 20 minute walk back to the hotel just was not on the cards. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.

We arrived at the hotel and I wasn’t feeling so good. The bar was full of people wearing medals and drinking and celebrating but I struggled to force a burger down and we went up to the room. It was at this point that things went a bit weird. I started shaking uncontrollably and was running hot and cold. This lasted for a few minutes and I just couldn’t stop. The shaking was happening in my tummy and then radiating out of my body. If I’d have been alone I’m sure I would have collapsed but thankfully Merida knew what to do and looked after me. The next day I was ok in myself but still not enormously hungry, had a headache and walking was not easy (my toes today still feel like they’ve been hit by a hammer). BUT, I had a medal and I had completed a marathon.

I’ve had a few days to digest it all now and have some thoughts.

I was hoping for c6.40-6.50 and all indicators from my training runs were that I could achieve this, but I came in an hour after this and I was initially annoyed. But now I am not. I am proud that I got round. Are there things I would do differently if I had my time again? Probably, but also, you cannot control the weather and regardless I have the medal. I got round, I earnt it and I’m proud of myself.

Life isn’t smooth and bad things happen but it’s how we deal with them that define us. We can do hard things. I did a hard thing (it was SO hard) and I’m so pleased with myself. I’m 50. I’m not really in peak physical condition (have I ever been?) but I did it.

So what next…..?

Actually nothing.  

I don’t mean, I’ll stop of course – I don’t think I can. But for now, it will be about enjoying exercise again. I’m desperate to have a few glasses of wine on a Saturday night and not worry about the “long run”. I want to pick up weights again and get strong (have already got a trainer ready to go to help with this – Tommy Trotter if you follow him on Instagram, with the mum who runs with wine….can’t imagine why I thought he would be a good fit for me?!) I want to get out on my bike and I want to put my wetsuit on and swim outdoors. I want to spend time with my wonderful friends and family and I want to take my dog to the river for a run. Life is joyful. Our family have had a hard 18 months and it’s time for us all to enjoy and relax a bit.

My husband pointed out to me, that unless I chose to do a full ironman (erm I think I just threw up in my mouth), I actually have a full set of medals. I’ve been thinking about which were my favourite races:

  • 5k – this would be the first time I ever ran 5k without stopping with the lovely Marshall Sue. I will never forget how she encouraged me and I managed it in March/April 2016.
  • 10k – this would either be my first Bristol 10k race with my sister “Running Sister” or the Bristol 10k in 2017 when I first met Merida and she offered to pace me.

I can’t choose between them as both are special.

What I do know is that without running I would never have met Merida and then Bob, Glinda, Hattie, the teacher and so SO many others who are now my friends.  I’m forever grateful that Merida offered that day and became such a wonderful, best and lifelong friend.

  • Half Marathon – This is hard. It would be between the GNR which I ran with the Red Lady the year both of our Mums died in 2019 or the London Landmarks in 2017 when Merida paced me to my sub 3 half marathon. I can’t choose. Both emotional for different reasons and both with very dear friends.
  • Marathon – I’ve only done one and I’m only ever doing 1. (although I did enter the London ballot before the weekend, before I knew the horrors of the marathon). When I don’t get a place though (as is inevitable) I won’t reapply. I’m happy with my one.
  • Sprint triathlon – Westonbirt the first time. Loved it!
  • Olympic distance triathlon – 51Fiver. Flying until the run (as is standard) but it was part of the triathlon club and so was great fun and full of camaraderie and support.
  • Half Iron distance – 113 in 2019. This was the only race my Mum ever came to watch me in and 4 days after the race she went into hospital and never came out. I’m proud to have finished that (absolutely ridiculous, what was I thinking?) race, but my Mum being there made it so special.

So there we have it.

And this will be my last ever blog post.

One day I might turn it into a proper book including a chapter entitled “what I learnt about running in the heat” (it will be a short chapter!) but for now nothing.

I hope my trials and tribulations have helped or inspired you to try something that you might not have tried before, or you’ve just enjoyed chuckling along.

But always remember that if I can do it, so can you. You just have to try.

Thank you for reading and supporting me.

The Taper

Posted on by chunkyrunner41

The taper is when you reduce your activity a bit so as not to arrive on the start line of your event, exhausted and crying. I’m hoping to not be exhausted, I’ve actually scheduled some crying in, but more of that later…
It’s a weird time. I’ve spent the last few months being grumpy about having to run in the cold/wind/rain/now it’s too hot/it’s raining again – you get the picture, and now I’m not supposed to be running and so all I want to do is go and run 10k….just in case. I want to do a run that feels easy and so I will be confident going into the race, but alas, running for me never feels easy and so the anxiety continues.
Yesterday I was supposed to run “easy”. I set off feeling like this was going to be the run where it finally clicked and I would be happy, but alas, the whole run was awful. I felt so slow I was going backwards, but when I finished, I found that I had been running 45 seconds FASTER per kilometre than average. My head is swimming!


I have my last run this evening with The Teacher, who is running the London Marathon, a sports massage tomorrow and then apart from walking and some stretching, nothing until Sunday. I will say, that the most positive thing about this whole training process has been that I have rediscovered my love for running with other people again. I haven’t really run with other people since Hattie moved up North and I started triathlon training. Cycling and swimming in groups yes, but running no. This is almost certainly one of the reasons why my running has faltered so badly as running alone is not a lot of fun.

But the running gang has returned and they have been amazing. The Teacher and I have trundled at least once a week for the past few weeks and it’s been great to run/chat again. Miss Eastpond is another one who has been AMAZING at accompanying me on some weekend long runs. This started with her meeting me for 5k in the middle of a long run and then she was suddenly running half marathons with me, when she didn’t have to?! Finally Sandra-Dee, who became my unofficial coach in the final few weeks. She has been brilliant at meeting me for those mid-week long runs when I’d had enough and was on my knees. She made sure I got those miles in.
I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and it’s been fun.

I have a beeper (Gym Boss) that beeps every 30 seconds which is better than using my watch. My rule is that I do not walk more than 30 seconds at a time. If I run 30/30 then my average pace per kilometre is around 9.20—9.40 per minute. However, at Bath Half, I counted beeps and ran 90/30, 60/30 and 30/30 depending on how I was feeling and this gave me an overall, much faster, pace of 8.57 per kilometre and over 42 kilometres, this will make quite a difference and so this is the plan. 90/30 as much as possible but 60/30 and 30/30 as needed. It doesn’t matter if the running is slow, just do not to walk more than 30 seconds. It will also give my brain something to do and keep it occupied as I will need to count the beeps. If I zone out, there’s always the chance that my brain will work out the enormity of the task ahead and a full freak out might occur, so constantly counting up to 3 lots of 30 will keep us all on the straight and narrow.
I know that completing a marathon is as much about the mental battle as the physical one so I have been working hard to reframe my thinking. I’ve run 28K twice now and both times I was fairly done by the end, so the idea of 14k more after this is fairly daunting.
I am confident that I can do the distance (because I’m very stubborn) but I’m worried about the sweeper and so I must go for it speedwise, but not too soon, else it will all go wrong.

Therefore, I have decided that next Sunday is: 3 10k races, 2 parkruns, a cry, possible vomit and gritting my teeth over the final 2.2 kilometres.

If all goes to plan, it will look something like this:
0-10k. 10k training run – this is easy pace – a Sunday training run. No PBs here. 60/30 and 30/30 for the first 2-3k and then winding up to the 90/30, 60/30 and 30/30.


10-20k. 10k race – time to get comfortable. Not sitting back and beginning to stretch out a bit. Not going for a PB but certainly within a minute of it. Ideally here I will be running 90/30 and 60/30 alternatively with the odd 30/30 thrown in if I’m feeling I need a breather.


20-30k. 10k race – here is where it’s going to start to pinch. No time to think just counting. 90/30, 60/30 and 30/30 on a loop constantly with no let up.


As each 10k ticks over, I tell myself that I’m starting a new race. I’ve run the Bristol 10k enough times that I will envisage myself in the pen, being ready to go again.


As we enter the final 12k, we change to a different strategy. I’m no longer running 10k races and now I am doing park run. At this point there are 2 park runs to get to 40k.
The first of these parkruns is not one where I’m going for a PB, it’s one of those that take place in the middle of a long run ie a park run sandwich. It needs to be steady but not all out. I think this is where tears might start and the fear might start to creep in, but hopefully with the counting of beeps, I can just focus on the task. This parkrun will be Eastville Parkrun as this is traditionally my choice for a parkrun sandwich.
The second parkrun is the one where I will have nothing left and will need to run it with my head. I will be mentally going for a PB, but realistically will be hanging on for dear life at 30/30. Tears and anger are very likely to feature in this 40 minute window and I must keep moving forwards. I’ve been to some dark places over the past couple of years and I will need to remember this. Hopefully my hydration strategy will be working else I will be crying lumps of salt. Grit my teeth and dig in. DO NOT STOP.


Assuming I am still alive at 40k, it’s 2.2k to the end (although I will probably end up running further because you always do). There is no strategy for this. I’ll be hungry and tired and just wanting to get it over with. I will be promising myself that I will never put myself through anything like this and I will invoke my inner Diana Prince and shuffle to the finish line.


I also have the added incentive of my daughter needing to get a train home Sunday night after cheering me and my husband on. I need to get over that finish line in a decent time to stop her getting home too late. (Husband and Merida are both also doing the race too so I need to wish them both the best of luck).


So there we have it. Unhelpfully, the weather forecast is warm and sunny but my 2 long runs were done on warm days so I’m not going to let that worry me. Gels are ready, hydration is ready, trainers picked, kit tested. Just me and 42.2k to do. I am plagued by my failure at Weymouth 70.3 but this is my chance to put it to bed forever.

Wish me luck.

I do not have a charity place for Manchester Marathon but I would be very grateful if you would consider sponsoring me to run the marathon for the Mind Charity.
https://www.justgiving.com/page/claire-tiley-2?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL&utm_campaign=015

The following was written by my daughter:
Last year my youngest daughter went to an inpatient unit for 4 months after struggling with her mental health. She had struggled for the majority of her teenage years. She said “every single person goes through something at some point in their life that no one knows about” and I completely agree. It is for her and everyone else who understands and has experienced this, that I will have in my mind as I run on Sunday so…
I would be extremely grateful if you could spare a few pennies for this charity.
Thank you.

25 sleeps to go…

Posted on by chunkyrunner41

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.