Cancer Research UK Race for Life 10k at Temple Newsam

I have just woken up after the first afternoon nap I can remember taking in years. I meant to have just a little lie down when I got out of the bath I took to unwind when I got back home, but ended up lying face down on my bed, naked, in a patch of lovely warm sunlight for 2 hours.

It was a difficult one today. The course was much hillier than I expected. I woke up to the rain at 6.30 to get ready, and it was still threatening rain all the way across town, and it was muddy as I entered the field in front of Temple Newsam House where Cancer Research UK had set up their stalls and the start/finish line. It didn't bode well.

Having got bus times from transportdirect.co.uk, I left the house just before 8am and then spent 20 minutes waiting for a bus that didn't come, which meant I missed the connecting bus to Temple Newsam. Luckily, I wasn't the only person heading in that direction, I got talking to 3 other women waiting at the bus stop (which was not where the website thought it was) and we all got there just in time for the warm up. By now the rain had stopped, and it was warm and quite humid - not my favourite running weather, in fact the sort of weather that stopped me running in Atlanta when I first thought I might try getting healthy.

The race organisers divided the 1000 women there into groups of Runners (those who would complete it in under an hour), Joggers (an hour upwards) and Walkers (those who had no intention whatsoever of breaking a sweat), and set us off with a gap of a minute or so between each group. I put myself into the joggers group, and watched as the runners shot out of the starting line. A minute or so later, the Joggers group were set off too, and although I'd walked downhill to reach the line, it somehow hadn't occurred to me that I would have to run uphill to get out of the field.

By the time I passed the 1k mark, I was already pissed off. Grass is much harder to run on than the roads and hard canal paths I've been training on, there's much more bounce and no hard push off, and it tires me out much quicker. The marker was just before the route took us around the perimeter of damp green playing fields for 3k. I found myself looking for short cuts, and having to tell myself that's not the point of a measured race.

As the 4k mark approached, shortly after giving up on defending my back sign against the strong crosswinds, I noticed I was running in front of a Mum and Daughter running together, and I'd been listening to their conversation. The little girl was only around 9, maybe 10 at the most, and she was shattered, and whinging that she wanted to stop, needed a drink, didn't like the wind, or the heat, or the puddles, this was stupid and why did she have to do it anyway? Poor old Mum did her best to cajole and explain, encourage, praise and generally talk her daughter round, and I felt simultaneously sorry for and really proud of them both, because even whilst she was complaining, the girl had not stopped running. They overtook me just before the 5k mark, after I'd turned to them after a particularly whiny bout and said "Listen sweetheart, you're keeping me going! I think you're amazing. Everyone else has legs twice as long as yours - you're running twice as far!" A few other people around us joined in the encouragement. I hope they finished well.

After the 5k mark is where it all went wrong. They took us out around the rough paths on the wider estate, and there was a hill that pretty much was all there was between 5 and 7k. It was slippy on the stones, and muddy off them. Since about the middle of last week I've discovered I've got a pull in my groin which starts playing up after 5 or 6k even on the flat, and it makes hills quite unpleasant. At the same time, my left foot starts to tighten up, becoming hard and tense. I spoke to my Dad about after last week's race and he thinks it's probably a balancing and protecting thing related to my shoulder injury. Even though my shoulder doesn't hurt when I'm running, I seem to be holding the whole of my left side slightly tense.

I could not do the hill. I walked, steadily hating the terrain, the weather, my foot, my groin and my lack of preparation for the route.

I ran again whenever there was a flat bit or a downhill, along with most of the people around me. Seeing a crowd of women toiling up a wet hill, then somehow, fishlike, without verbal communication, reacting like a shoal and all suddenly running again was surreal and beautiful. By the 9k mark, the marshall assured us there was only a tiny little bit more uphill and it was nothing like we'd already done, and despite a few exhausted strides of walking, I came across the finish line running, and was surprised to find that my time, even with roughly 2.5k of walking, was 1hr, 14mins and 44secs. This probably means that my running is not that much faster than my walking. I'm not sure how I feel about that!

I ran into the finishing paddock, collected my medal and goody bag and collapsed among the others, lying flat out on the wet grass. After a natter on the phone with my parents and a few stretches, I set off up the hill to walk out to the bus stop. But when I got to the top of the hill, I found to my surprise that I was crying, and took myself away from the crowd to go and sit in the amphitheatre. I can't say exactly why I was so overcome, more even than last week, but I had to wait for the unexpected tears to pass before being ready to walk again.

And as I made my way back through town on the bus, chatting with a couple of other runners and wearing my medal, I made the following resolutions for future runs:

• Do not do overtime, then go out and drink with the data team the night before a race (even if you do stick to shandy). And you can't get away with a midnight bedtime before a 6.30 get up.
• Research the course. Next time you intend to run a 10k route that involves slugging up killer hills, please have at least 2 weeks of hill training under your belt. And do at least some grass work!
• Sort out your foot/groin pull thing. Could be all compensation for the collar bone injury.
• Drink more water!

So that was run number 3 of my 5. I've got my eyes on 2 more, but I'm saying nothing until I've signed up for them.

In the meantime, having not really had the best run in the world today, knowing that I didn't enjoy the route and that I was totally unprepared for the hills, I was asked by a marshall on the way out if I'd do it all again.

The answer's yes. Somewhere around Temple Newsam's grounds is a pink backplate that says "I'm running for Sadie Legard", with a heart, blown off my back between 4 and 5k. There'll always be better reasons to run than reasons to stop.

JaneTomlinson's Run For All 10k in Leeds

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

1 hour, 8 minutes and 57 seconds!

I am more than pleased with that time, especially given that this morning was the worst weather I've run in so far, and that there were roughly 9000 other people on the route, forming a wet, warm, steamy and sweaty crowd as we crossed the start line on the Headrow outside the Art Gallery.

What an amazing experience, and I'm so proud to have taken part. Somehow, I don't have lots to say about warming up in the rain in Millennium Square, or the course, or the weather (wet), or my time (far better than I thought), or my feet, or the chafing from my trousers (tummy and back - getting rid of those!), or much apart from motivation, and this is after a natter with my Dad about his thoughts today.

As it's Fathers Day, I had arranged for my wandering parents (who until very recently could have been described as being of no proper fixed abode whilst touring around in their campervan) to meet me after the run for a meal. My Dad is a recovering runner (he's not done it for years now, but used to have a habit that took him up to 2 marathons: it was a serious addiction), and he gets his running kicks vicariously through me these days. I know when I'm not running (like the last 3 years) I feel guilt and envy whenever I see a race, or when I see any lone runner on a long one, and he still suffers this 20 years on.

The course went around town before taking us out to Meanwood and then bringing us back into Leeds up North Street, where I was struggling at the 9k mark, having realised that it's one of those long slow hills I hate so much. Although I'd enjoyed the run and had settled into a decent and comfortable pace, an hour is a long time. I had to keep focussed on crossing the line running, and among runners, not walkers. Regardless of what time I got, that was my target. At various points I had remembered to keep my eyes out for Sadie's hearts and butterflies, and there was no shortage, as Heart Research UK had a fair number of runners in logo t-shirts, among other heart charities, and this put a smile on my face and kept my chin up when my head could have been hanging down. When we crossed the 5k mark I checked the stopwatch on my phone to see that it was 34mins, my best time so far. The 2 lads on either side were suddenly desperate to know the time, and when I told them we all seemed to pick up our pace a little. Macmillan had people stationed around the whole course clapping and yelling "Come on Macmillan!" whenever they saw a green t-shirt, and that gave me a boost each time. But at the top of the hill, all was darkness and difficulty in my head until I suddenly heard my name being yelled clearly over the sound of stomping feet and panting: both of my parents were there against one of the barriers, waving, clapping and smiling. I blew them a kiss and ran on, saying to the 2 people running next to me with a mixture of pride and relief "That's my Mum and Dad" (and then I realised I sounded like an overgrown school kid getting off the bus from a school trip). Seeing them pushed me on enough to get me across the finish line, despite that last kilometre feeling as if it was lengthening itself out with every step I took.

After I'd collected my finishers T-shirt and my bag from the storage back in Millennium Square, I called them to find out where they were, and went back to the finish line to meet them, thinking they'd be waiting patiently somewhere sensible. I found myself stuck on the opposite side of the road from them, with the runners and walkers still battling their way across the line, but I could see my folks, both of them enthusiastically cheering and clapping everyone who crossed, with massive and genuine grins of pride and encouragement. By the time I got to them, I could tell my Dad had been crying. Apparently he'd had a good sob when he'd seen me, and while I was cooling down and doing the post-race tidy up stuff, he'd found himself watching the hour-and-a-halfers, the "purple-faced-strugglers" as he called them. It had struck him that anyone who is still battling on at that point really has a reason, they've got a burning motivation to keep them going when they've worked so hard, and in these races, that reason is loss.

I've always found the end of runs to be emotional places. People are high as kites having achieved what they've been training for for months, and then the adrenaline crashes away and all that's left is tired muscles and mixed feelings about not having to go for a run in the morning. It's when all of the ideas that got you out there in the first place, and the memories of loved ones affected by deadly diseases your charity is trying to stop swim up to meet you to say thank you and you realise all of your efforts can't bring them back. It's when you realise 10k is nothing compared to what some people are going through. And when the simple acts of personal strength and bravery that you've seen around the course really touch you.

For a short while, I was running between a young man who was doing it barefoot, and a woman who I would say was in her late fifties. Her back plate simply read "In memory of my Dad" with his date of birth and 2011 on the next line, followed by "Happy Fathers Day, love you always." I had wanted to hug her and tell her that my Dad would be waiting for me at the end, and that I'd give him an extra cuddle for her Dad when I saw him, but had realised that that would've just made me, and possibly her, tearstained as well as sweaty and rain-damp.

As I walked up the edge of the Headrow, finding my way around the barriers and safely across the course without getting in the way of the battling plodders and the worn out walkers, and towards my parents, it all hit me, and I had had a little cry too.

So many people were out there in the rain today, running like me to raise money to thank charities for help, to research cures, to continue providing services that make a difference, and to get themselves fit and make a difference in their own lives.

If you'll excuse the pun, after 10k in the rain, I find that staggeringly inspiring.

... so I've got there and finally booked myself onto next Saturday's 10k Race for Life for Cancer Research UK at Temple Newsam. This is run number 3 of my 5 for my challenge for Macmillan, and you can sponsor me through my Just Giving page for them still, but if you'd rather donate to Cancer Research UK, click here instead!

Pants-tastic!

Well I don't know about you, but I've had a fairly cracking little week, as far as the running's been concerned.

After my lovely long run featured in last week's blog-post, I went out again on Tuesday morning, and ran 6miles straight off, down and back along the canal, and was buzzing with positive running hormones for the rest of the day. By the time I got in from work that night, I'd done 17 miles on foot, and I slept like a very contented baby. Then on Friday, I thought I'd better test my 5k time, and got home inside 38mins, even though I had to admit defeat by that f!@{ing hill and had walked the last few feet.

So this morning, feeling well and truly ready, I pulled my team Macmillan shirt out of the wardrobe, and was nicely surprised that it's no longer as snug as it first was - there's a little more room in there these days. I even pulled out my slightly tidier tracky bums, the ones without the paint stains on, and they fit me too, which they haven't in years! And off I went to Roundhay Park on the bus.

I have to say, it wasn't especially well signposted when I got there, so I'd walked for about half an hour, round the big lake, up the hill to the little lake, and then back to the Lakeside Cafe by the time I found the small gaggle of people in t-shirts under their gazebos on a hill near what I've always thought of as the posh bandstand (apparently it's called Barran's Fountain). The people standing around were a mixture of obvious habitual runners, families with young kids or dogs, students, older people, all out for a bit of a plod, a walk, a jog or a run, and mostly wearing their pants on the outside of their clothes. I saw plenty of fabulously colourful y-fronts, some stripy boxers, some french-knickers, some spotty granny knickers, a pair of grey ele-pants, some frilly bloomers, and a few doggy-pants too. I had forgotten the ones I was going to wear on my head.

The wind was coming up, which made the poor drum majorette troop look a little dafter when they were throwing their pom-poms up in the air and failing to catch them, but then they also failed to have a music system that worked so they performed their routine unexpectedly to the sound of a car stereo crunching their intended cd tracks. I have always had a fear of drum majorettes, and cheerleaders have the same effect - they make me want to cry and run away. This made me decide to go away and have a little private warm up session where I couldn't see them. Then, just as I'd completed my normal routine, a very loud and muscly man from British Military Fitness introduced himself to us all and made us run around and do warm up and stretchy things for another 10 minutes before setting us all off on the course, which was 3 laps of a 1mile-and-a-bit circuit.

We took off down the hill towards the cafe then took a sharp right under the lea of Hill60 and the adjacent woods, round the edge of the cricket pitch, on the path that all too quickly climbs towards the main gates on Princes Avenue.

It's a hill. I can do hills.

I did the hill, and recovered at the top where the route did a very tight hairpin bend at the gates and went back under the Mansion (New Walk). I got my breath back and settled into an even pace and turned right onto The Carriage Drive and back to the lap point. The second lap started well, at 10m55s, and in my head I was already imagining myself arriving back and finishing. I noticed the second visit to the hill was much harder than the first, and I took it slightly slower, but by the time I reached the top, I was more tired than I was expecting to be. I walked the hairpin, taking about 30 seconds to get my breath right before setting off again along the nice long flat stretch and the easy down hill bit. I didn't catch my time for the lap point, I was just determined to finish by then, and I was kicking myself about walking for that little bit.

And then far too soon, I found myself at the foot of that long, gentle hill again, and my mind went blank. I couldn't do it. I walked my third ascent, really laying the guilt down about not making it, and prodding myself with the thought of failing next week on the 10k, just because of a hill. I started running again at the hairpin, absolutely resolute to finish well, and very quickly found myself running far faster, but comfortable. I remember thinking "This is great! I've not run this fast in years!" as I strode round the corner, and could not believe the speed I picked up on that last 500m. I came haring across the finish line, suddenly feeling supercharged and full of energy, knees well up and full of fire. 36minutes and 16seconds, even with the laboured walk up the hill. The last time I did a 5k race, in June 2006, my time was 33minutes, but I was 3 stone lighter!

Someone lovely put a bottle of water, a cereal bar and a medal into my hand, and I found I could speak. Two very fit looking guys were standing next to me, in the same state as I was, red-faced and sweaty. I asked if it was just me, or was that hill a killer, and they both agreed loudly. One, who runs in most of the charity runs around Leeds throughout the summer, and has done this route every year since they started (4years ago), told me that some of the lads from his running club came with him last year, because they didn't believe him when he'd told them they'd find it harder than the Great North Run (13miles) because of THAT hill. He was alone this year. My guilt disappeared! I've stopped kicking myself. We all agreed that not knowing that a difficult hill is in front of you is fine, but knowing a tough one is coming up is a mental trap, and they both said they find it easier to run up steep hills than long shallow ones. I am not a freak!

So, that's the first one down. I'm happy with my time. Based on this, I should finish the 10k next week at about 72minutes. If I can come in under that I'll be chuffed to bits.

Hurray!

C

PS: LOOK AT MY TOTAL! Well chuffed and proud to be on £190 - nearly twice my original target already! Thanks to everyone who's sponsored me so far, it means a lot to me, and has given me the encouragement I need. I'm still looking at a few more events - but will confirm which and where when I've had time (and spare cash) to register for them.

Foot testing, sunny running, wobbly stuff falling off and new motivation...

This morning, after a week and a half of taking it rather easy on my twisted foot, I went back out for a little tester run to see how things are.

I'm very conscious that I need to get my distance back after a few weeks of either flat-out not running, or what now seems to be even worse - giving up early and walking home on fairly short routes. After a few days of strapping it up and using it as little as possible, followed by reintroducing my walks, was my foot up for a proper run? Could it stand up to any useful sort of distance? How long should I give it to heal? I would have to see how it felt.

The answer is that my foot didn't like being squeezed into the tubigrip support, and it twinged when I put in into the trainer, but after that, it was absolutely fine - a perfectly normal foot.

And so I warmed up, stretching my feet, ankles, calfs and heels carefully, and off I went. And surprised myself for the 2nd time in the course of this training. I ran down Kirkstall Road, past the Abbey, turned up the hill just before Morrisons, and joined the canal, following it all the way into town in the most beautiful morning sunshine. I didn't stop or switch to walking, even though on this occasion I'd told myself it wouldn't be such a bad thing considering the amount of work I've got to do in the next few days to catch up, and felt fantastic by the time I touched the wall of the bridge at Lock No1 at Granary Wharf. I last completed this run on the 24th April, and although I loved it then, and have promised myself I'd do it again one of these long weekends or bank holidays, I'd not managed it since. It's 4.5miles to Lock No1 from my doorstep, and I ran all the way, then turned around, stretched again and set off walking and running back. So I've done 9 miles on foot, with probably about 5 or 5 and a half miles of running, and was home by 8.45.

I think this might be the way it'll be for the next couple of weeks. It's time to move up a gear with the training - more frequent and longer runs must happen now if I'm going to make the full 10k distance on the 19th. On this route, I can extend my run by just keeping going for more of the way back. My shifts at work between now and the 19th mean that if I'm out of the house by 6.30am, I can fit it all in, come home, have a shower, then set off walking (back down the same route) and get to work on time.

I'm tipping the scales at just under 14 stone (my weight is still going down despite eating like a proper pig and consuming more beer than is sensible during the week that I was "resting my foot"), and the runs are feeling much easier already. Fingers crossed I can shed a little more of the wobbly stuff before the big race.

AND - I am incredibly grateful, stunned, and filled with new motivation at having exceeded the sponsorship target I originally set. I'm not one to push for sponsorship, or harass people, and I know that giving to charity, and the choice of that charity is a very personal thing. My methods so far have been to put the message out there and see who wants to sponsor or donate to the charities or organisations I've selected.

I'm now terribly proud to have the sponsorship of Dave and Sallie, Sadie's Mum and Dad (my brother's lovely parents-in-law). Macmillan helped their family immensely in terms of information, advice and support all the way from Sadie's diagnosis to her death from kidney cancer. I want to raise money to ensure that other families going through such a difficult time can continue to get this vital help and support.

I'm running with a new determination, and now, on Dave and Sallie's instructions, I'll be keeping an eye out for hearts and butterflies for Sadie along the way.