2 to go & Nottingham marathon double

So that was a rather crazy weekend, I'm exhausted in many various ways. The Two to go marathon on Saturday felt like a formality, just one to be ticked off before the main events started. I enjoyed it last year but found it a bit dull this time round, although things were livened up by the entire field going the wrong way at one point. Some poor sods ran an extra 3 miles, I was lucky and clocked an mere 1/2 km extra. I find it really hard to run 26 miles without stopping now so had a few walk breaks from 30k. Got round in 4'06 with no dramas and no nose bleeds. It was a shame the finish left a bit of a bad taste (rip off food & drink, cheapest bit of pressed tin medal, shower block knocked down etc) but relaxing in the sunshine for an hour with lots of familiar faces was most pleasant.

Then it was off to Nottingham to meet up with Team Sparta, a ragtag army of half and full runners, all of whom were slightly hungover and not very well prepared to run anywhere but more than happy to look rather foolish for everyone else's entertainment.

L-R: me, Frances, Paula, Mark & Clair

The aim was to run with Mark for a sub 4 but right from the start I knew that wasn't going to happen, my legs were totally empty and I felt completely wiped out. I'd had a blood test earlier in the week that had revealed that my creatine kinase levels were about 800% higher than normal, ie. I'm running on massive muscle damage and that's why my times have slipped, my recovery is taking longer and why my legs just blinking hurt all the time. My 100th at Malta has taken on a life of its own however, and there are already about 25 people lined up with flights and hotels booked so I have to get there. It just means I won't be pushing hard through any marathons any time soon.

So I kept up with Mark for just over 10 miles, the attention he was getting was fantastic and I was killing myself laughing for most of those 90 minutes. He'd be running along with his shield and huge sword, then suddenly pounce at a small unwitting child who would leap out of his skin. He was getting such a good reaction from the crowd I kept forgetting I was a Spartan too. It would have been nice to have made more effort to join in but I was concentrating more on finishing and wanted to keep my head down and be a bit insular during the run.

What I wasn't forgetting about the outfit was how hot it was and how it was starting to chafe like crazy, mainly the seams inside the bodice and the edging on the skirt. The flappy epaulette things were constantly jumping about in the periphery of my vision too.

Mark let me fall behind after 10 miles, I was struggling and he looked really fresh (and went on to run a massive negative split, very proud of him overtaking half the field and really annoying them, imagine a bearded, semi naked, helmeted bloke barrelling past you, brandishing a 4 foot sword, cloak billowing in the wind and shouting RARRRRGGGGHHHH at 22 miles. Demoralising for you. Very funny for us.) and I ditched the costume on Stella at half way. Sorry Stella. Then again, how often can you cycle up alongside a girl, say hello to get the reply "do you mind if I undress and give you my clothes?" Feeling much lighter and unhampered, if rather self conscious, the second half was more of a no frills marathon - no watch, far fewer runners, fewer spectators, no hills, just 13 miles to cover. I liked the purity of it.

This marathon was so enjoyable, in two entirely different ways: the first half really really funny watching Chiefy play to the crowds and the second focusing on running at its most concentrated. Nottingham gets a million extra points for handing out water and lucozade in small 200 or 250ml bottles, at very regular intervals, perfect for a few sips and meaning you don't need any gels. I ran with a first time marathoner between 16 and 22 when he dropped me. You can never forget to be humble when you're still running at 22 miles and you get dropped by a marathon virgin. As last year, I loved running round the lake and, while I still felt very tired and sore legged, had enough energy to keep running to the finish. It was reassuring to know that 13 straight miles to round off a double is still possible.

My pacing over this double is bizarrely like clockwork, last year, I ran 3'51 and 3'49, this year I ran 4'06 and 4'05. What was best was the turnout, Chris, Jim and Dave from the 10 in 10, loads of Fetchies and 100 clubbers, and the man of the match, David Bayley, running his 100th marathon. One of the best post-marathon pub afternoons ever (in spite of the terrible service) and a hilarious train ride home with the Spartans. A top weekend all round.

Weary and worse for wear Spartans in civvies and Percy Pigs