What happens when you're running a half-marathon you didn't know you were running in two weeks time? [part six]
6.1 [charity] about this time I should possibly have been thinking about sponsorship and so forth. No, but I did receive an anonymous donation of some sort of timing device. It arrived in a wonderfully unexpected package.
6.2 [initiation] worked out how to switch on my new Garmin thingymebob and had to work out my weight in pounds because a programmer somewhere doesn't understand the metric system. That said, I set the distances to miles...
6.3 [falling apart] went on a final short run before the race and completely failed to breathe or do anything properly. Defeated by four miles, oh dear. On the plus side the 'Forerunner' appears to work and I was doing ok-ish on time.
6.4 [final preparations] travelled down to London, picked up a number and learned that I was running as 'Priya'. Scoured much of my sister's flat, frantically hunting for safety pins to attach our numbers. Bemoaned the early start brought on by the clocks going forward and also the weather forecast.
6.5 [race day] a train to Hampton Court filled with other people with numbers, a quite spectacularly long queue for the toilets and an unexpectedly long dash to the bag drop-off point and back and we were ready to start, passing the line somewhere in the masses five minutes after the first people. We danced between and around hundreds of people heading forwards in the field and completed a first lap of sorts in decent time. I started to feel queasy and dropped back after 8 miles and ended up walking about half of the rest of the race. I did, however, finish. And got a t-shirt and a medal to prove it. And a time of 2:38.
