The GREAT North Run

Back in April, when I signed up for the Great North Run, September seemed like FOREVER away.  But all of a sudden here we are; and last weekend I found myself packing my trainers and heading up to the North East.

My training had been slightly disrupted by a week long work trip in August, and the last long run I’d done had been a horrible heavy-legged slog, but as I boarded the flight to Teeside on Saturday I was feeling as ready as I could have been.

After tucking into a carb-heavy dinner with my lovely Cousin Niki & my co-runner Darren, we set off for our base for the night in South Shields, taking in the second half of the race route on the way. Anticipation and excitement started to build as landmarks were pointed out, a spot was identified for our cheer squad to establish their base camp, and we drove along the sea front towards the ever-welcome sight of the finish line.

Squad Goals

Up bright and early on Sunday, our family run squad, by now swelled to 5 in number, hopped on the metro into the city and the start line. I must admit that the very idea of riding half an hour on a train just to turn round and run straight back again did add an element of nervously comedic farce to the morning. Arriving in plenty of time, we made straight for Wetherspoons (well, when in Newcastle…) which was packed out at 8.45am with a sea of lycra-clad bodies enjoying a coffee, some breakfast or in a few brave/foolhardy cases, a pre-race pint.

I’d been trying to envisage what the best part of 50,000 people in one place looked like, but hadn’t come anywhere close to how it felt to walk into the middle of it, and see a river of bodies both in front and behind us, making their way to the starting arena and going on as far as the eye could see. Even then, I’m still not sure the scale fully sank in until I watched it back on TV later (I scoured the coverage for a glimpse of myself, but alas the cameras obviously don’t love me).

 

The atmosphere had started building on the metro, but as we got closer to the start time it ramped up a few notches, and by the time we’d taken part in the mass warm-up it was fever pitch. Just fire that starting gun already!

10.40 finally arrived and we were off, lead by Mo Farah and the other Elite Male Athletes. Ok so I might not even have the crossed the start line for another 15 minutes, by which time he was over 3 miles away, but for a short while I was on the same course, running the same race as Sir Mo. That’s a pretty cool and very rare feeling to have, for an amateur runner!

As soon as we got out onto the course it became clear that the people of the North East had, as is typical for this race, rallied in their DROVES to cheer us on. There was hardly a metre of the whole 13.1 miles that didn’t contain at least 1 spectator, and for the most part they were several rows deep, each side of the road. I’d lost my energy sweets out of my belt about 3 feet in, but it soon became clear that I needn’t have bothered carrying them in the first place. Every 3rd person had a bowl of jelly babies in hand, there were haribos and chewits, and people handing out much appreciated ice-pops from cool boxes they’d dragged to the side of dual carriageways. There were trays of homemade biscuits, St John’s ambulancemen with rubber gloved hands covered in vaseline or suncream to grab a smear of  on the way by, and an enthusiastic bunch offering out small plastic tumblers of beer just after the 10 mile marker. The good people of South Shields had pulled their hosepipes to the end of their drives to provide a cooling spray to sweaty bodies, and on the final 1 mile stretch to the finish line the crowd roared with such ferocity that it almost created a tailwind, pushing us all towards the end goal. As hard as I try, I’ll never be able to put into words exactly how amazing the support was, and how much it helps everyone to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Darren had told me ahead of time about the RAF Red Arrows fly past over the Tyne Bridge at the start of each year’s GNR, and how lucky you’d need to be to time it exactly right and be on the bridge as they come over. Well; my luck must have been in on Sunday as I was just over half way across when they roared overhead. It was a second in time that I’ll never forget, whooping my head off with 2000 strangers as we all shared in the experience. I was thrilled to bits to learn later than unbeknown to me at the time, Darren was just a few steps behind me and got to share the same moment. We’re both heading off the bridge on the header image above, if you look hard enough!

The course itself was a pleasant one, but I had somewhat underestimated the seemingly never-ending incline over the last few miles, and hadn’t left myself quite enough gas in the tank to deal with it. I slowed to a walk to give myself a breather a couple of times; joined by hundreds of others – the brilliant sunshine and unseasonably warm temperature for that part of the world in September had taken lots of by surprise and on the steepest, sunniest stretches it did start to feel a bit more like the Great North Walk at times. I don’t think I was alone in being extremely grateful for the run-through showers scattered throughout the latter half of the route.

This run was a particularly special run for me, as I had my very own band of supporters, which rarely happens when I run in Jersey. Here I’ve done races without a single runner or supporter I know, and it’s always a bit of an anti-climax to get back in your car and drive home, without so much as a high-five to mark the achievement.

My Cousin and her boys were a welcome sight around the 19km mark, exactly where I expected them be, bearing cheers and hugs and the all-important Jersey flag. I’d known that my Mum and Stepdad were coming up to South Shields from Leeds for the day, but probably being a bit lax on my part, we hadn’t actually arranged anywhere to see each other. Neither I nor they knew the course, or where they’d likely to be able to get a spot to spectate, so I’d assumed I’d just catch up with them after the finish line somewhere. I must apologise to those runners immediately around me therefore, for shrieking like a banshee and launching myself out of the course and into the crowd as I realised with about 3 feet to go that I was about to run right past my Mum. They were waiting about 900m from the finish, and I just happened to be on the right side of the road to pass right by them, veering in for a hug that she immediately shook off with a cry of ‘Get Off Me, Run Run Run’. Cheers Mum, nice to see you too 😉

Post-Race Beer with my Mumma!

That lovely little surprise gave me just the boost I needed to keep on towards the line and I crossed it with 2 hours, 21 minutes and 55 seconds on the clock. That’s a good bit slower than I finished in Jersey back in June, but given the higher temperature, unfamiliar route, and the small matter of another 45,000 fellow participants to negotiate, I don’t think it’s too bad. I could have probably taken 8 or 10 minutes off that if I’d really pushed it, but at the risk of doing myself an injury, and ruining my enjoyment of such an amazing day. I will definitely be back next year, and armed with another years training and the route/race experience from this time, hope to shave that down to something more in the region of 2 hours flat.

There is lots I’ve learnt from my first GNR experience (take something warm you don’t mind casting aside at the start line, don’t wear two vests when it’s forecast 18 degrees, stick to the middle of the course for the clearest path, save some energy for the hills and SMILE when you see a camera!) and lots of moments that will stay with me a long time (the Red Arrows fly-past, 1000 high-fives, OGI-OGI-OGI under every bridge and underpass, ‘Howay Bex pet keep ganning’ from a dozen Geordie strangers and the joy of crossing the finish line, which almost seemed to pop up out of nowhere after the long slog towards it). I’m told that this is one of the best halves in the world so far as complete experience goes, and even with my limited experience I can well believe it. It will take a LOT of beating!

The best bit about ALL of the above of course, is that I raised an amazing £584.50 for Maggies Centres who do such amazing things for cancer sufferers and their families across the UK. My minimum pledge was £350, I had hoped to push this to £500, so I’m thrilled to have smashed through that by another 16%. There is still time to sponsor me; so if you’re reading this and would like to help me reach that last little jump to £600, you can donate here. I’d like to wish a massive THANK YOU to those who have already shown their support. Big Kisses to each & every one of you.

This is the second half marathon I’ve got under my belt in 2018, with one still to come, and each time I’ve finished one I’ve been on such a high that I’ve immediately looked for the next one to book. For 2019 I’ve got 2 confirmed already and at least another 3 in the plans. I barely recognise myself from the can’t run-won’t run person I was a couple of years ago, and hope you’ll continue to join me on my unlikely journey towards becoming a ‘real’ runner.