Windsor half-marathon

So despite looking like I’m over fifty, I ran the Windsor Half–Marathon (my first one) today. 13.1 miles over an ‘undulating’ course (i.e bastard hills everywhere, if, like me, you’re used to the flat terrain of London) on a warm and sunny September afternoon. My aims were to break 1hr30mins and to beat the two guys from work who were also running.

It didn’t quite go according to plan. I started feeling absolutely terrible after about 10 miles and really struggled to get to the finish. Absolute agony. Bloody terrible and I’ve felt rubbish since. I had to get off the train back to London because I was going to be sick and spent the rest of the journey (after another train came along) laying on my bag on the floor next to the doors (looking to all intents and purposes like a drunken, smelly tramp, I suspect). I then dizzily stumbled the 4 miles home on foot because I couldn’t face the tube.

Realised with a couple of miles to go to my flat what was wrong: let’s see… nausea, confusion, dizziness, dry and sticky mouth, just run 13 miles in the sunshine — it’s probably bloody dehydration, you bloody rocket scientist. A dioralyte when I got home seems to have gone some way to fixing me up, but I still feel pretty sick. The problem at the race was that the fluid on offer was water in squidgy plastic cups and in my inexperience, I was terrible at actually getting any of it down my gregory around the course. Added to the temperature, it was a recipe for disaster.

So, my first race. I didn’t beat one of the guys from work (who used to run for Cambridge, but no excuses, a target’s a target) and I didn’t break 1hr30mins. Vain aspirations, born out of inexperience. On the plus side, I finished despite feeling crap, and I didn’t stop and walk. I didn't get kicked, pocket–picked or nicked when I was lying on the floor of the train. I gained some valuable experience (if I’m ever daft enough to try to do this again… the way I feel now, unlikely, but that’s what everyone says). But I still feel gutted for failing to achieve either of my vain aspirations. Maybe I’ll feel a bit more proud of myself once I stop feeling sick…