Last weekend I ran my first half marathon. 13.1 miles. I say first as it won’t be my last. I loved it. I signed up for it last year shortly after my best friend died of bowel cancer. I wanted to do something positive on what would have been her 58th birthday and as it happened the Southampton Half Marathon fell on exactly the right date. A more famous run was also taking place on the same date but I had failed on my third application to get a place. Maybe it will be 4th time lucky in 2018.

So last Saturday my husband and I travelled to Southampton. Not that he was particularly enthusiastic about hanging around for the three hours it was going to take me but I knew that after running 13.1 (must not forget the .1) miles there would be very little chance of getting myself home. On arrival I dragged him round to case out the start

and finish lines and then back to the hotel for dinner and an early night. Except the hotel was opposite a night club and it soon became obvious that its clientele were unlikely to be on the start line in the morning.
I was up early to take advantage of some carb loading. Which I must say is a very enjoyable part of a long run. Two hours later I found myself at the back of 4,000 runners waiting for the starting gun. I had never seen so many runners but compared to London’s 40,000 it is a fairly small event.
I did feel a little emotional as we waited for the off remembering why I was there but then we all started to move. I was off.

And I am proud to say that I loved every minute of it. Well maybe not the last mile. But the sun was out (I should have slapped on the sunscreen), people were outside their houses cheering us on and handing out jelly babies and haribos and there was a brass band playing in the park. The atmosphere was amazing. I had thought that I would do a fair amount of walking but I actually did very little. And when I did it felt a bit odd. It felt more natural to be running. Maybe I had become a runner. Not that the race was discomfort free. Half way in I had a niggle in my hip and my feet were swelling slightly in the heat but I knew I was going to cross the finish line. I did pass a few runners that were not going to be so lucky the hospital being their next stop.
I was still feeling pretty good at the 12 mile mark. But it then started getting a bit challenging. I’m not sure why. It just felt that I was so close but not getting any closer. Spectators were cheering with ‘you’re nearly there’ which exasperated the woman behind me who shouted back ‘oh no I’m not’.
Finally, I ran round the last bend and could see the finish in the distance. The crowds started getting noisier, I overtook three other runners in the last

few metres and I was over the finish line. I was given my medal (I love a medal) and I headed to get my pint of lager (non alcoholic). I had done it.

I came 3550 out of 3756 finishers with a time of 2.43.16. More importantly I raised over £1,000 for Bowel Cancer UK. I had done Denise proud.