It's official… The Impossible is Possible!
I did it!!!
…and got the T-shirt!
Somewhere amongst those 50,000 runners is wee me! I made the 13.1 miles in a respectable 2 hours and 45 minutes (allowing for a 2 minute photo opportunity at the 8 mile mark). The Red Arrows flew over as I crossed the start line: (just as people at the ordination service in the Cathedral were greeting one another with 'the Peace of Christ'!)
For those who can be bothered to read more…
Seeded at 45,337, I was amazed to discover that I came in at 31,550, overtaking 13,787 others and averaging 12.5 minutes per mile! Mind you, my walk pace was faster than some people's jog pace!
I was so nervous before the start. They played 'Abide With Me' while I was standing in a 150 person loo queue, and just as the Lancaster bomber flew over. (It last flew over my head on our ordination retreat 11 years ago!) The emotional pressure was too much – 'what was I doing here?' I said to the sky, and tears ran down my cheeks! Images of everyone who was supporting me with prayers and confidence in my capacity to achieve the impossible jogged across my mind. Then I saw Frances – a chance in half a million – and cheered up. She has never lost faith in her Mum's capacity to run the race!
The first 2 miles were formative – 'I'd begun, so I would continue!' I was placed in the last batch of runners (the slow lot!) but the crowds were so encouraging. I had written my name on my T-shirt at the last minute – all the way people shouted 'Come on Anne, you can do it!'
It was so encouraging to see people from 'Beyond the Barricades' dance group at the 6 mile mark, and people from Holy Nativity at the 8 mile mark – I literally hugged them! I felt so supported and loved beyond measure.
Most of the way I was in the company of 6 'Tarzans' in leopard skins wielding clubs (not sure why!). Running dress always has the capacity to widen your wonder… the 4 well endowed women running in skinny bras in the sun had obviously not heard of UV burn hazards. The number of charities represented was gob-smackingly awesome. The biggest inspiration for me was the guy who ran the first 12 miles pushing a lady with cerebral palsy in a wheelchair, who walked the last mile herself aided by a friend!
I never did intend to run the entire course – from time to time I brisk-walked to let my muscles recover. You will understand that this is not cheating! The event was a pilgrimage for me – my Sunday communion with 50,000 others on the run. I thought of everyone I knew – old friends, new friends, friends being ordained whilst I ran, family, people at church, people who have sponsored our community project, people who will hopefully benefit from it. My walking times were devoted to the often 'forgotten tribes' - those who find themselves in life's slow lane because of dementia or other mental illness, and those who care for them. I remembered my Mum, thought of Carolyn remembering her Dad, and also people I know having a really tough year.
At the 8 mile mark (the start of the John Reid Road) a group of well-wishers shouted 'Come on, don't give up… it's all uphill from here!' (For some people life is like that.) The next 3 miles is a long slog but there were steel bands, rock bands, a group of elderly 'kareokees' with inflatable guitars, shower tunnels, drinks stations, charity supporters groups, even a fire engine with water hose, all lending encouragement. A man had his flat windows wide open and loudspeakers projecting up-beat music; a woman was giving out ice lollies, children were cooling the runners by squirting water bottles. All along there was applause and cheers – the spirit of the North East was out to play in all its splendid good humour.
The last 2 miles seemed endless and my muscles ached. I walked much of this distance with just the occasional burst of enthusiastic running. I so appreciated the fact that my feet were comfortable – courtesy of a kind gift of proper running shoes from a wise friend. The Red Arrows were in full display mode and my attention was more on them than on the run – what huge flying machines they are – one skimmed overhead, while others laid vapour patterns in the heavens. Then the sea – where I learned to swim 53 years ago! The finish was in sight – a long mile away!
In the vast final reception field I navigated, weak-kneed, to the charities tents, double wrapped in my space blanket as my body temperature dropped. I have never been so glad to see a banana and a cup of tea! Nor have I been so happy to see familiar faces – Carolyn and her Mum in yellow Alzheimer's T-shirts welcomed me and I cried. Frances also found me and I cried again. (Her time was 2 hours and 10 minutes).
Three cries in one day was my ration used up, so we headed for home, which took three and a half hours! We could have walked back quicker; but maybe not!
Am I glad I did it? Yes! Was it worth it? Yes!
Will I do it again? Probably not! Will I run again? I'm not quite so sure!
Thanks for those who had faith in my capacity to do it. Thanks for your support in prayers, donations and many practical ways. Newcastle Alzheimers Society and Holy Nativity 'Outside In' Community Project are grateful beneficiaries. You have helped us 'renew our strength'. God bless you.
Anne, and Carolyn too.
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