Evelyn Esme Worrall - Birth Experience

    

  So, I currently have two sleeping children. I thought I'd give this a go again. Purely because when they say every pregnancy and birth is different, they really do mean it!

      Apart from having a disgraceful first 12 weeks with bump. The rest of my pregnancy was relatively plain sailing. I was able to keep as active as possible. Probably not as active as I was with Freya due to being in lockdown until I returned to work at 18 weeks. This was actually a blessing in disguise, yes there was COVID 19 in the air. I was able to relax, and overcome the sickness at home with Jake and Freya! After this I was to go to work from 18 weeks to 33 weeks where we'd be on another national lockdown for a further month. I'd booked 2 weekend as holiday before I was due to leave at 37 weeks! So basically I've been off since 33 weeks. It was lovely to spend it with Freya considering she's going to nursery in January. My last walk/run was at 33 weeks around Draycote Water. After this I just walked! Not due to pain or tiredness. 

      So I'll start my story from when I went to the midwife for my 36 week check up. Evie went from a bump measurement of 34 weeks back to 33 weeks. I was currently 36+4 weeks. In lamen terms, babies don't shrink, but it was a cause for concern. She also believed she was still in a breech position. I was booked immediately for a growth scan. I didn't think anything of it. I knew my bump looked quite small. But I was convinced she was just a 'small' baby. I had the same with Freya, having measured 33.5 at 36 weeks and everything was fine. 

      My scan was booked for Thursday (spot on 37 weeks). I went in, they confirmed she was in proportion, but on the small side. She was doing well and head down. The blood from the placenta was still working adequately! I was then sent to triage. I honestly assumed for some reason that this was just to check my weight and blood pressure, like you have at your 12 and 20 week scan... How wrong was I?

      I was told to take a seat, and a doctor would be with me shortly. A doctor? I thought. But why? They've just told me everything was fine?! The sonographer said I'd probably just have a scan every week up until I gave birth. The doctor took a seat and told me how he was concerned that my baby could have potentially stopped growing. Instead of her making an entrance into this world on her own accord, they wanted to induce me. I immediately felt overwhelmed. But Freya was a normal, spontaneous birth and delivery. Why is this one so different? I held back the tears. I'd texted close family to say she was okay, and that It'd be likely that I would give birth in the hospital, but not because I'd have to be induced. I was scared, and anxious. I didn't know what was going to happen. They originally wanted to booked me in for the next day. THE NEXT DAY!!... Nahhh. Which at the time was daunting in itself. In hindsight, I wish it was available so I didn't have to wait 3 days and torture myself with googling everything I possibly could about the induction process. I was booked for the Monday. As the doctor left, a student nurse asked me if I was okay. In shock I looked at her and said, 'So by the end of next week I'll have my baby- here in my arms.' 'Yes' she said, 'a little earlier than expected.'

      When I returned to my car I immediately rang Jake, my Mum and Mother in law. My Mum had mixed emotions. She was upset and worried for me- naturally. But one of the main reasons was because it meant that she couldn't help me through the birth, like she did with Freya. She was my rock. If it wasn't for her in the final stage, I fear I would of had to of have medical intervention, or an emergency c-section. 

Covid stipulated that there were to be one birth partner. If on the Drayton Ward to be induced, they were allowed to stay from the start of the process until 7pm that day and couldn't return (if you were still on that ward) until 2pm the following day. They would obviously be called when the mother was in 'active' labour of course. Towards the end you'll see why I disagreed with this. Diane on the other hand, calmed me. She'd had 4 kids after all. She was induced with Jake. I'm pretty sure his older sister also had the drip with her first.

      The Saturday night I was told to come back to hospital where they'd monitor baby for 30 minutes or so. Her heart rate was quite low. But I honestly believe that was because I hadn't eaten much that day due to being busy. I just lost my appetite completely. The midwives and staff were plying me with biscuits and water. After about 50 minutes of monitoring, they were finally happy with baby's movements and heart rate and released me. From here, I was to ring on the Monday morning to be told when to come in.

      Monday came by so fast. I rang, and they said to come in as soon as I could. We arrived at George Eliot Maternity Hospital at 10:30am. It was so hard to say goodbye to Freya, it could potentially be 3-5 days before I'd see her again. It killed me. However, I knew she'd be entertained being with her Nanny Cats. If I were to be in hospital from Wednesday onward my Mum and Martin would pick her up and also spoil her rotten. Let's say she would definitely be happy as a pig in shit for those 3-5 days. 

      I was monitored for 30 minutes, and then I had an internal. Oo, wow. It was uncomfortable to say the least! I allowed a student to av a go, and cop a feel of me cervix too, like. Cause why not?! It's for educational purposes. They were both lovely though. It was such a different experience to have a hand up there in a hospital bed, on a ward full of other people, with just a curtain whisked around your bed. If you've read my birthing experience with Freya, you'll understand how having my own jazzy room, on a low risk pregnancy ward was compared to this. After the internal, it was deemed that my cervix wasn't ripe enough, and the first gel was administered.

      After this, they monitored bump for an hour. Whilst the gel was uncomfortable too, ie sorry, TMI... My fanny felt like it was on fire! Nothing came of it. I felt disheartened that I'd be in hospital for a while, and have a dreadful experience. Between this time, and the next dose (minimum 6 hour wait) me and Jake were so bloody bored! We tried walking around the grounds of the hospital which they encourage you to do, playing 8 ball pool and me reading. In the end we just did our own thing on our phones and chatted away. 

      5pm came and they weren't happy with the 30 minutes of monitoring. So much so that I was slightly delayed in getting the 2nd gel. On the internal I was told I was 2cm! It was probably at around 5:50pm that the second gel went in. I experienced the same burning feeling, as well as a lubricated, sticky downstairs. Rannnnk. We were monitored for another hour and were left to our own devices. At this point, I was left far longer than an hour. Seriously, being hooked up to a monitor and needing a wee... whilst pregnant is the most uncomfortablest feeling EVER! 

      In the meantime, I had a doctor come by and check the baby's vitals. Purely because my body went the opposite way then it did with the first gel dose. The midwives were concerned that I was now contracting far too many times within a certain time frame. The average was 4 contractions, I assume in about 5/10 minutes. I was having 6! He said it was fine as the baby's heart rate was rising along with the contractions, and then steadying out. He explained that If the heart rate dipped I would have an injection that would relax my uterus and calm baby down. The contractions at this point were quite uncomfortable, borderline painful. A tightening occurred and it took my breathe away. 

I had to say goodbye to Jake at 7pm. It was horrible. He was worried and teary, as was I. He said how it didn't feel right that he had to leave. Little did he realise that he'd be back in no more than 7 hours! ;)

After about an hour or so my contractions completely stopped! I was gutted to be fair. Feeling the contractions made me believe something was happening down there. Not feeling anything only solidified the idea that it was going to be a long road till we met Evie. 

At half past midnight I'd spoken to my Mum, Jake and my daughter on the phone and had another internal. Inbetween this I found myself listening to the 'Pogues- Fairytale of New York' and silently crying to myself. I wanted my Nan, I wanted my Mum, I wanted Jake and Freya. The hormones were just mega messing with me, as well as being alone played a big part. 

Back to the internal. At first, she said okay, so you're still only 2cm. I'm going to apply the other gel. She actually inserted the gel applicator and decided against applying it. I was then told she'd book me in to get my waters broken and for now to try and get some sleep. 

So I did. I rolled over after being uneccessarily monitored. I closed my eyes and was just about to drop off, but it was short lived. I was woken up by the light coming on, and door slamming from one of the midwifes coming to check on one of the other girls on the ward.

This was the start of the point of no return. As you will have read with Freya, they had to break my waters for me at around 6cm. I never had that feeling, or the experience of them breaking by themselves. So, I was lying on my side and I felt a trickle- not a gush. I thought to myself. Nahh. Maybe it's just discharge/lube come out from me being vaginally probed all day. I thought nothing of it until I got the urge to empty my bowels. Yup, attractive. That's the all part of birthing a baby I'm afraid. 

I wobbled to the toilet and done just that. I wiped, and voila the bloody mucus plug was coming away. I immediately started to get contractions fast, and they gradually got more, and more intense. 

Whoooo I thought. I went into labour this way with Freya. Maybe I would follow a pattern?!

They started gradually again. But every time I stood to get off the loo, I was in agony. This got worse, and worse. I was panting heavily after about 10 minutes; crippled with every wave. Everytime I sat, I went for a little bit more of a number 2 again- gross, I know. After not even 20 minutes I thought to myself I can't walk, I physically need to get help now. Even if it was to get to back to my bed and get some painkillers. Nope, then I started crying in pain whilst contracting. I was thinking to myself, 

Gosh Nicole, stop being a fanny, 

then It switched to... 

Ahhh, maybe I shouldn't give birth on the toilet and flush my baby down the bog hole. 

I thought to myself, 

I cannot do this. I physically cannot- I'm actually fucked. Hell, where the drugs at. I need an epidural. 

Again I wanted my Mum, I wanted Jake. Especially because I assumed I was only around 4cm. Thinking back to Freya again it was another 16 hours before she appeared. Hell to the no. Why am I doing this!? Why couldnt I have been happy and content with just one tiny hooman! The fear and anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks. I panicked and called the assistant cord. A student nurse came to my assistance as I was howling in pain. She then got the midwife who insisted on doing another internal to establish how further along I was.

I felt so bloody sorry for those two women on ward! I'm so sorry random women! I was grunting and screaming (not breathing as I should of been. Apparently holding you breathe really exacerbates the pain!). Nina, the midwife determined I was 5cm, and said that she was going to call the Labour suite immediately and get me down there. She asked if I could walk the hallway to the elevator then into the labour suite. By then the contractions were every 45 seconds or so, maybe less. I was in agony. Screaming for painkillers. It's a no from me, Jeff. So I had the poor ladies chucking all my stuff onto the hospital bed, whilst they tried to find my phone so I could call Jake. He didn't answer!! Typical. Luckily his Mum did. As I was contracting I was like, 'I NEED HIM Here NOW. THIS BABY IS COMING!!' she replied. 'RIGHT I'M ON MY WAY!' The irony of all this was that she came tearing it through Weddington after coming off the A5 and got a flash and speeding ticket!! Poor Nanny, and poor Evie. She will be constantly reminded at family affairs of getting her Nanny a speeding ticket whilst being born.                             

I was sped down to the delivery suite and handed to the lady who was going to birth my baby. I was then wheeled into my own room. She joked as I was screaming. 'Okay, lovely after this contraction we're going to help you move over into the bed over there.' It was only like 5ft away, but it felt to me like a mile. I was like, 'I can't! I'm in too much pain'. She said well, 'if you go over there, that's where your gas and air is, so it's up to you. Fuck me I was up in a flash, pretty sure I sped walked over and started chonging on that gas and air. They say only take it when you're contracting. Fuck that! I didn't even have any paracetamol in my system! I was getting so stressed out, every time I was taking a drag of gas and air, the bloody thing was falling apart in my mouth and hand. Not what I needed really, was it?! I was like, I know I'm getting free health care through the beloved NHS. But come on Karen. This is taking the piss! 

I screamed I wanted an epidural. This wasn't the time for ooo I did it without anything but gas and air type of labour. I gave up on my pride! She said, I'm sorry lovely but if you're feeling fullness in your bottom, its far too late. Erm. Wtf. Feck my life. Just kill me now. Well here we go again. Gas and air it would have to do. 

Ooo wait... I needed a wee. I shouted. Wait, Did I??? She said are you sure it's not your body telling you to push? I said, I don't know. I think it's a wee. So she put the bedpan under my bottom. Then I went to relax. If you birthed before you know you kind of tense up so much to the point your bum cheeks are squeezed together, hips tilted forward, purely because of the excruciating back pain! I screamed, I THINK I NEED TO PUSH!! She said okay, do what your body tells you, are we not waiting for Dad then?! "NOOO I NEED TO PUSH NOWW!" The student nurse didn't even have time to put her second glove on before Evie very nearly birthed into the bedpan. Don't worry, they quickly sorted that! I gave an almighty push and I could feel the tip of her head and the infamous Ring O' Fire was awoken. The midwife said, 'Oo would you look at that, a full head of hair. No more pushing, your body will do the rest. Just pant for me'. That relief as they slide out I'm telling ya. Like when you have lovely bowel movement after not going for days. It was utter heaven. Well, it felt like you'd been delivered to heaven having had your vagina prised through blades and nettles. But ooo that sweet child o' mine. Thank the Lord. It. Was. Over.

She was caturpaulted onto my chest. She was a dot, tiny... But she was here. Screaming of course. Bet she was like, Bitchezzz. I was not ready for that! I was comfy in there! That inital scream is just so emotional though. You definitely forget how tiny they are by the way. I didn't even have time to get my cardigan off so I was just in my nighty. They managed to rip my slippers off whilst me legs were in air as I was ready to push. So here she was, in less that an hour I'd went from feeling practically painless, to full on contractions in 10 minutes flat. To put it into perspective, according to my discharge notes. My 1st phase of labour lasted 20 minutes, and my the next stage- only 5 minutes. Ahaha. So she literally shot down that birth canal wanting to get out, so much so that Jake unfortunately didnt make the birth. I was so gutted. He ran in, whilst I was holding her in my arms. He was gobsmacked at how fast she arrived too, considering Freya kept us waiting so long. It was an utterly beautiful birth considering:

1. I was induced 

2. The fact I wanted her at home 

3. I came away unscathed which was a bonus only 3 tiny tears. Ie my foofoo didn't have to be stitched like a frankenstien again! Me and my Mum now have added bantz, that she came so fast because I have a bucket. Common people we're. Oo sorry that is crude. Well I'm afraid Karen's, it just our sense of humour! 

It wasn't all that daunting. I even joked with Jake saying that it was over so quick I'd contemplate another! (I'm not, obviously. That coil is going back in ASAP, I will be a Nun until then). I showered, whilst Jake fed and dressed Evie after weighing in at a healthy 6lb 4oz. So a decent weight. Not the estimated scan weight which was 5lb. 5oz's (they're so inaccurate). After this Jake had to go home, whilst me and Evie were taken back up go the Drayton Ward to attempt to sleep off the shock of labour. 

The student nurse laughed and said as I was helping get all our belongings together and on a caddy, "Gosh, you really don't wait around do you? On your feet, walking round like you haven't just given birth. I said," "You think this is bad, you should meet my Mother!" 

As I left, the lady who birthed Evie further joked (she was absolutely brilliant. All the staff were, but she had my type of humour!) 'Now you, you can come again! Absolutely not, I said. That's it for me. I just wanna puppy now, and our family will be complete. 

I've come to realise that being a Mum of 2 is a blessing. Albeit a stressful one. Its been 2 weeks since Evie entered our lives. Freya unfortunately got a bad cold which coincided with introducing her to her new baby sister. So when she's had a tantrum, it was 100x over dramatised. Apart from that Evie has been a good newborn. She's been eating, shitting, sleeping and pissing plenty! And Freya has been mostly normal! Our two girls are the best decision I have ever made- EVER. They complete me in a way I never thought possible. 

I hope if you read this it helped clear up some uncertainty, especially about the induction process. But most of all, if you made it to the end thank you, I apologise for the errors. I will get round to fully proof reading!

"Oops, We Did it Again" Baby McClelland-Worrall Due 24/12/2020

Its been a long, long time that I've came on and written a blog entry. Running event wise, I haven't  done nothing since the Birmingham Half Marathon in October 2019, which was cut short to 10 miles, due a suspicious vehicle en route. It turned out to be nothing.

I then signed up to the Newport marathon with my new running friend, Ally. Training was going relatively well, except for getting the flu at the start of the Christmas period. I was so ill, that it ruined my Christmas and my daughters 2nd Birthday entirely. After that, I completed my 17 mile training run in March. I was in agony with my left knee in the last 4 miles. It had been playing up an awful lot since I started marathon training. I self diagnosed it as ITB syndrome and put my weak glutes down as a reason for the potential flare up. After I finished in pain, but happy of the achievement I opened my phone to be told our gym was to be closing in accordance with GOVT guidelines over Coronavirus, just that Monday before I was told that they we not going to keep the 24hr gym open, whihc meant my night job hours were to be gone. I was in a state of limbo thinking i was jobless, but my manager said to leave it with her. Since then, its taken a while to develop into a full furlough hermit, and there is no way can you define what  a 'normal' way of living is anymore. Not going to lie, I have really enjoyed the family time, as Jake was too furloughed, and has only just gone back this week. Newport has been cancelled for a second time. Originally scheduled for April, then October. I sincerely doubt i'll get a running event in anytime this year.

So I made a target of walking 10,000 steps a day for a whole month (I did so successfully). I even got my bike back from my Mums and cycled around the beautiful countryside, I ran 4-5 miles every other day. I was determined to not become a couch potato with this lockdown. I decided that training through the summer for a October marathon was not my thang. As I've said many times before, I'm sooooo not a summer runner. As a result, I sold my marathon place, and wanted to focus on the new date for the Coventry Half in November.

I think everyone can collectively say it has been a crap 2020. But for me, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. On 21st April, I went for a run. Albeit, through some public footpaths (farmers fields, over sties). I dismissed my utter lack of pace due to the different terrain. The wind was blowing, it wasn't hot. When it spat me out to a road I knew, I realised, Ah this is all downhill. it'll be a breeze until I get to Ratcliffe Road. Perfect. Not a week before on this stretch of road I ran a 9:35 minute mile, I felt strong. But suddenly I felt energy-less. I was running a 12 minute mile according to my Garmin, and my heart rate (going downhill) was rocketing. This was not normal, I thought. I was a day late for my period. Not unbeknown for me, I could go 3-4 days sometimes. I had all symptoms of an impending period, but alas she didn't bleed! I noticed my urine looked strange, not cloudy, but like a haze of oily stuff on top which was again, strange. My tatas looked mahoosive too. I sat and played Call Of Duty for a couple of hours trying to piece together what was going on with me. I had a Sunday Dinner the week before and awoke to a funny metallic taste in my mouth. I dismissed it cause I was a tramp and forgot to brush my teeth. I blamed the beef having been between my teeth for 12 or so hours. I remembered I had a digital Clear blue test for emergencies only. Whats the harm in taking it. I was so sure it would be the same old negative response.

Its important to note that me and Jake, once we had gotten over the horrors of the newborn, no sleep stage indeed agreed we wanted another, eventually. With me being an only child, and Jake being one of 4, I seen how close they all were. I didn't want Freya to be an only child. I was spoilt to shit being an only child. My Mum and Dad made sure I didn't want for anything. The best thing was i didn't have to share with no mofo. But then again, I remember how lonely it was at times.  Not in the years when Martin and Mum were together, Martin is more of a kid than me, and would invest a lot of time playing video games after work with me and doing general stupid kid stuff. Me and Mum started horse riding and eventually got Guinny which made us closer than ever before. It was more after they split that I thought that I could have done with a sibling. The teenage hormones settled in, and all the different emotions had developed more prominently, along with exam pressure etc... My friends all had sibling. Most my cousins on both sides all had brothers and sisters, that they were close to bar one other on my Dads side. Just not me. Haha!

We decided to start trying in June 2019. I was in tears when aunt flo came every month after the first 3rd months of trying. I was monitoring my periods on an app, doing it around the right time and pissing on ovulation tests a week after my period to pin point when my egg was likely going to be released. I felt I was broken. I knew of people having their first and then they near enough straight away conceived with their second. I was wasting money on pregnancy tests left, right and centre and just being utterly disappointing when it came up negative. Jake was reassuring, saying if we've had Freya, we were likely to be blessed with another at some point. To peoples utter surprise, it took me and Jake 3 years for Freya. Although we weren't technically trying. I thought it would never happen, that one of us had some sort of fertility problem. I obviously didn't go round telling people this, as we were so young when we got together. We were still so naive. People would call us stupid for having unprotected sex. I found that the pill was causing me to get excruciating and constantly reoccurring UTI infections. So, I stopped taking them, the UTI's stopped and that was it. But its all good, Freya came at a good time in our lives. We were still young to some, but the timing was just perfect! 

Okay back to that night. It was approaching 12:30am at night. Who in their right mind decides to take a preggo test at that time of night?! This dickhead, that's who!!! I slipped the cap on, looked away for 3 minutes and tadarrrrrr, the word 'Pregnant' appeared. I generally thought I'd be over the moon. Well I thought it definitely would be less of a shock than when I did the one with Freya. But nope, no tears of immediate happiness, it was panic. I ran downstairs to Jake who was gaming online with his brother and friends, I pulled his headset back and put the test directly in front of the computer monitor. Jake, also in shock calmly stated on the mic, "Yo guys, hold up my Missus is pregnant again". I ran upstairs and tried to call my Mum, she was obviously asleep. So the next point of call was my Sissy in law who answered and calmed me saying "Look, go to 2 different shops when you're 4 days late, and then re do them to make sure you haven't got some strange fake positive". I couldn't sleep the whole night. The tears of joy eventually came in floods, and my Mum rang back a 3am after having woken up downstairs, exceedingly groggy and said "Babe, this could have waited till the morning, but congratulations! Goodnight. I love you" Aha. Sorry Momma. I got a test from Lloyd's and Superdrug, as well as some some Folic acid and took them one after another and.... Nope. I definitely was pregnant!!

I decided to tell my Dad earlier this time. I think he took it so,so well. Ultimately, I believe he was gutted because I was due to start my Primary PGCE at Birmingham City Uni this September. There is still time Paps. This was also one of my disappointments actually. I decided that March was to be the last month we'd try. I'd get the coil re put in ready to gain a career. Things really do happen oddly don't they? Do I regret it. Nope. The Uni reassuringly said that all I have to do next year is re apply, email them and they'll instantly give me a unconditional offer again without having to go through their interview process. Winner, winner chicken dinner. But I'm still quite overly optimistic that i'll feel ready to reapply in a years time. After all, the Baby will only be going on 7ish months and child care is expensive. But I suppose I'll make the decision when the time comes.

Lastly, we're having another December baby. What makes is so significant and special to me is that the due date is the 24th December, which most know as my Nan's death anniversary. I definitely think she sprinkled some baby dust over us from up there!

Robin Hood Half Marathon 2019- 'Undulading and Flat'... The Understatement of the Year!

It's been 84 years... I mean half a year... 4 months since I'd ran beyond a 10k event. I lost focus, and put on some weight after my marathon. Not so much that I stopped altogether, I didn't fall out of love with running. I just simply had no focus or need to run any more than 4 miles.

I had a reality check and decided I needed to plan a half. I know I wanted to do Birmingham in October. But at that time in July I wanted something slightly nearer. So I stumbled upon this race. It was a quick decision. Either this or Northampton. I compared race reviews and this was 100% more attractive.

I started my 8 week plan. But since marathoning. I just haven't been able to up my pace. I feel I've hit a wall. That was what had got to me a lot in recent months. In the month of January, when I ran every day, I could definitely see on the stats side that I was progressing with speed. But now I'm finding it extremely difficult to get past a 31 minute 5k.

I started an 8 week plan and looked to Josh, who devises running plans to do a 5/6 week plan but just to help with speed. I knew by now, after 12 half marathons that 12 weeks was to long if I wasn't looking to improve my time. I went back to Pintrest to look for a plan and stumbled upon one which suited my liking. Training was great. I hadn't had a cold since just before May began. I was living. Then boom! Germ attack. Cold, sinus infection at the end of August. I got that peeved that I swallowed some Sinutab and just got one with my 5 and 8 miler that week. Big mistake. I felt awful. But I had to prove to myself that I wasn't going to let my stupid sinuses win once again. I tried so hard to not take antibiotics. Which was successful. I won. Screw you stupid sinuses.

A week and a half before race day my chest felt tight and uncomfortable. I was coughing. I had gained some form of a chest cold. Not a full raging one. I think I fended it off for my birthday weekend with vitamin C. Me and Jake went to Wales the week before the half and climbed Snowdon. It was incredible! But I thought to myself it isn't that bad- I'll just get on with it.

So race day came, and Vickie agreed to drive and my new awesome friend, Ally who runs to spectate. She's tapering to run her second marathon in Bournemouth this Sunday coming. Go Ally! (and Gemma!). The weather was awful throughout the night. Constant downpours. When we took Freya to my Dads before we hit the road, it was mental. We were doing 40mph on the M69 due to flash flooding. It died down and we arrived and gained parking really easily.

It was great to have gone to a Weatherspoons, been able to empty my bowels instead of queing for ages, turtleing in pain. That was an added bonus. By the time we reached Victoria Embankment it was near enough time to get into my colour zone, which was green. There was a mass amount of people. A great turn out, and before I knew it I was on my way through the start line with the aim of just finishing and enjoying running through another new city.

Mile 1- . It was congested somewhat, but a gentle mile to ease yourself into what was to come.

Mile 2 - What the hell is this monstrosity. We went from 97ft elevation to 179ft. But it was very sudden, sharp and unexpected. I thought, I can handle this. By this point it felt really humid. Which didn't feel to good. 

5k around 34 minutes. Probably the worst time ever since coming back from pregnancy. But again we hit one of the biggest Inclines of the day again, it was brutally verticle. So from Lenton Road at about a mile and half onto Hardwick Road, then through a place called the Park Estate it was just constant hills. My God though, where some of these people rich. There was this one mansion. Beautiful it was, it was lovely to see, what looked like the lady who owned it outside cheering us on. She was slaying it. She looked so glam! 

Mile 4. Hello downhill. You're most welcome. Ooo and hello gorgeous running man behind the lead vehicle. Mr number 1. He looked serious and fast. Very fast. I think he may have won the race too, well done to him. Apologies if you're married or partnered. I am to. But I'm allowed to gwap, slightly. Look don't touch senario. I think I still have time to get Jake to quit smoking and make him take up running. Maybe. As I distracted myself even more I seen even more elites running down the opposite side of the road at around 8 miles for them it would have been. I seen the 1st woman and she was about 5th or 6th. She too looked mega fierce. 

I started pondering the ideas that if it was in our genes as to if we are naturally gifted with speed in long distance running, or did it take being sporty and pushing hard when you were young, maybe pushy parents even? I was definitely a lazy shit as a child/teenager. Most thought that having a fitness instructor as a mother meant I was going to be this super fit, good in every sort, athletic child that ate really healthy. I remember a member in my tutor in year 8 saying, "If your Mum is a fitness instructor, why are you fat?" like, how savage? Kids can be so brutal, can't they? I laugh at it now though. Doubt that person has or will ever run a marathon, or a half for that matter. My favourite was, "I bet all you eat at home in rabbit food" ie salad. Nope I was a chubby little being, eating Nutella sandwiches and other snacky stuff that was bad for me in my school lunch, then going home and demolishing a full on pizza by myself. At school, I just wanted to play Football, Rounders and Netball, not run stupid, tedious laps around the track, and definitely not embarrass myself with how I was struggling to even walk the 12 minute Cooper run of death. My mother never forced me to be like her. She let me partake in her classes when, and if I wanted to. No pressure. I made that decision for myself. Come year 10/11, I became more aware of my eating habits, took GCSE PE (saying that I remember getting into a debate with my tutor at the time, refusing to partake in Sports Day because athletics just was not me! I hid all day because I didn't want to do it!!). I started taking advantage of going to my mums classes after school. I decided for myself that I want to be like my mother. P.s my schoolhood wasn't bad. I was the class clown and quite naughty for the majority, but I made people laugh. That's what I like to do. Even now!

Back to the mile 5 and 6. It was beautiful through Wollaton Deer Park. I seen no deer though. But the support was amazing here. From mile 6 I really felt like I was upping my game. I was finding my stride and settling into my pace. Then I said to myself, 'Ooiiii. Calm you titilala's Coley, you still got 6 miles to go." It was here I decided it was time for an energy gel. Being as unorganised as I was I stupidly got the Karrimor energy gels from Sports Direct. I was skeptical. But I couldn't think of any other place at last minute that would supply the SIS ones. My God, Lord above they tasted hurrendous, I had two gulps and binned it on the way out of the park. Its a no from me. The texture was thick. Thicker than SIS and it tasted very salty and sweet (not like that, Karen!) I think if Bear Gryls said that drinking you own piss made you full of energy, I'd rather have done that instead. 

Mile 7 and 8. From here on out it was my kinda race. Ie what I'd define as 'flat' and steady. Manageable if you will. We double backed onto where we seen the elites running back to base, through one of the University of Nottingham campus'. It was here I witnessed a very bouncy, cheerful woman run ahead whilst maintaining a conversation (looking back and not in front of herself) with someone she'd overtaken. She then tripped and fell over a cone on the road. Thankfully she got straight up, said she was fine after us all asking if she was okay and carried on.

I don't remember much of mile 9 or 10 really. I noticed that the mile markers were slightly out by 0.1of a mile in actual 0.2 according to my Garmin. I witnessed a gent that was receiving medical treatment from the ambulance crew assuming he'd collapsed. It always sends a shiver down my spine, I hope he was okay. I always thank whoever is upstairs for letting my run and finish all my races. Not long before a Marshall was tending to a 2 ladies who were being sick and stretching their legs through, I can only guess, cramp maybe? I must admit this race seen the most casualties at the side of the course than I've ever seen before. Not to scare anybody or anything.

Mile 11 and 12. Always notable when you see a guy dressed up as a gorilla, who was holding a cage with a fake human inside. He did great. He had such a good way to keep everyone motivated. At about 12.5 miles as we were running back into the Victora Embankment he said, "WERE LOVING THIS AREN'T WE GUYS. NEVER THOUGHT OF ANYTHING BETTER TO DO ON A SUNDAY Morning, EY?!" Made me laugh.

Mile 13. I was back into the centre of the park. I was getting emotional. Especially because they had John Denvers 'Take Me Home' on the stereo. Just because it was countryfied, it just reminded me of my late Nan. I sucked up the slight tear and dug deep. I was really struggling. They'd had to lay straw too to make it less slippy. The finishing straight opened up with 200 meters to go. I passed the line and realised I could still in fact cover this distance in a time of 2:31:41.

I thoroughly enjoyed this race. Although, at first I really regretted signing up due to the hills I was encountering in the first half. I felt like a failure till about mile 5. Then I found an inner peace, and the miles flew by until about mile 11 when I started to feel it in my quads. But overall it was well managed, the marshals and the supports was amazing and it only starting slightly spitting 2 times throughout, despite this it was slightly muggy. But yes. I'll definitely go back! 

Belfast Marathon- Irish People Galore and Misjudgement of Course Measurements

The build up to Marathon Day wasn't as expected. Yes I did my longest run, but I did gain a cold and sinus infection after. I tried not to let it get the better of me. But it did. After my 3 miles on the treadmill the Monday before race day, I did nothing due to getting another sore throat and tickly cough- AGAIN! If there was a medal for the illest person during taper week the award would surely go to me.

It's been a mix of emotions since Sunday. I was told to prepare for the worst whilst I was away, our family dog, Jasper sadly went to sleep yesterday. My mum and stepdad were going to do it Sunday, but decided to wait until I got flew home on the Monday so I could say my last goodbye to my beloved fluffy man. He'd been there for half of my life--well since 2004. RIP my fluffy man. So this post is dedicated to you. He wasn't just a dog. He was family through and through.

The flight out was easy and stress free, we got an Uber to our accommodation which wasn't too far either. We were met by the hosts who were effectively letting us live in their house for 2 nights. If they weren't the heart and sole of great Irish hospitality I don't know what is. I'd had many people say before we went, 'Why Belfast? You have to be so careful what you say and where you stay as its still quite dangerous, they don't like the English.' Nonsense. I felt safe and under no threat at all. Jennifer, Paul and their Mammy (I didn't get her name unfortunately) went out of their way to cooked us spag bowl and garlic bread, got beers and fruit in, had a necessity hamper that was free to use if we'd forgotten any essentials, it was lovely.

They too were running on the Sunday and offered some amazing advice on the new route and how to easily access the start and finish and which taxis were the best.

After they left we ate and chilled out. My friend Lizzy was suppose to be coming but unfortunately couldn't, so Jake managed to get the time off work, but we had different flights because the same flights had gone up in price. I love Jake, but I got really worried with him having to catch a later flight. So much so we made him come to the airport with me and Vickie for 3:30pm and showed him which gate to go down so he couldn't accidentally board a flight elsewhere. Fortunately he arrived safely. I was so happy to see his gleaming face.

I went to bed around 11:00pm and got up for 6am. I was appearensive to say the least. I hadn't ran in 3 weeks properly, I felt as though I was getting poorly again. It just wasn't ideal at all.

We ordered a taxi to get the start to which the gentlemen driving actually lived in Coventry for 5 years. In fact, he actually lived on Beake Avenue where my mum currently lives. Such a small world.

We followed the mass of runners into Stormont Park. My God. The dread filled me when we had to trek up a massive hill. Jake joked around like, 'what was the new course description? Flat and fast. Yeah right!' To which I responded with a hesitant giggle.

The start wasn't as structured as I'd anticipated. I didn't set off till 9:15am, as I had no idea the marathon had already been set off at 9am! I pushed my way through the fun run, 9 mile walkers and the marathon relay and got over the start.

We headed right out of Stormont onto a main road called Upper Newtownards Road. The one thing in Belfast I did like was the width of the roads, I'd love to learn to drive here, I'd have no fear of my really bad lapse of judgment when going down a road with parked cars either side. I get so panicked about hitting them or the on coming cars.

The support were out in their masses. It was great. My first mile I believe I got a bit excited, baring in mind I'd set a 12/12:30 min/mile pace as average the first came in at 10:59.

The second mile came in just a, s we were turning onto Beersbridge Road it was here that I made the reference to my watch and the mile markers, which were out by at least 0.15 of a mile. Mile 2- 11:11.

The 5k stage, I really noted at least a 0.30 mile of a difference from my watch buzz to the visual marker. Mile 3 was onto Castlereagh Road 11:24. Now I was really heading towards a desirable pace.

I put race predictor on my watch settings just to see what time I'd likely finish in. It was looking optimistic, fluctuating between 4:45 to 4:50. Then I came back to reality. We were only 5k into the race. No way could I maintain this pace throughout the entire race.

Mile 4, 11:47. Onto Montgomery Road. Past the first industrial estate of the day. Very boring.

Mile 5, 11:31. Cregah Road. I decided to carry my hydration pack. But didn't carry the bladder for the simple fact of water stations. However, to this point I started to worry. I'd seen no official marshals on water stations. Maybe I was in my own world. Don't get me wrong, the church support was amazing. They were not short of water and jelly babies. But I was still surprised to say the least.

Mile 6, 11:58. Onto Woodstock Road, round and into Ormeau Park - the to be finish. It was beautiful. But at the same time, it dawned on me about how much longer I'd be out before I'd see this park again, at least over 4 hours. How cruel.

Mile 7, 11:42. My friend Lizzy rang asking about my progress. I said to this point it was okay. Nothing spectacular with regards to the route. The support was spectacular from the locals. On the positive side, the route was fast and fairly flat, bar a couple of sharp, short inclines. Nothing too taxing on the legs. Mile 7 the course measurements really did mess up. It was half a mile from the time my watch beeped till when I seen the official marker. Dam, what was going wrong? This is something you really didn't want to see so early on in a marathon.

Mile 8, 12:05. Onto Ormeau Road. The main road to the centre. It was my first sights of the centre. It was beautiful too. The old style buildings stood high. It reminded me of Nottingham or parts of London.

Mile 9, 11:33 Chichester Street. More of the centre.

Mile 10, 11:05. Onto Donegal Road. We actually passed Travanagh Street which was where we were staying.

Mile 11, 11:59. Boucher Road. A massive shopping complex, built like an industrial estate. Lost of fast food, which I could of murdered. That's another thing. On the route we went past a lot of KFC. Hmm mm. Yummy in my tummy. But again cruel.

Mile 12:24. I could tell my legs had slowly started the deterioration stage. I knew from now on in, my legs would start to get gradually more uncomfortable.

Mile 13, 12:01. Upper Lisborn Road. Turning right, away from KFC. NOOOOOO. Onto Finaghy Road. Haha. Such a cool name. I'm pretty sure my half marathon. Was just over 2:31. I'd say that was pretty ideal.

Mile 14, 12:41. These 12 min/miles were becoming more apparent. Which was fine. I was still on target pace. Onto Andersontown Road. Another industrial estate. I was becoming pretty bored now. The lack of sight seeing was really starting to lose my interest, it just made me want the miles to be over as quick as possible.


Mile 15-16 (12:47), (12:42). Consistent. I was starting to flag. The inclines were becoming more evident. I was really starting to struggle.

Mile 17 12:44. Lanark way a very down trodden industrial estate. Boring. Here, I decided to put a playlist id made a while ago with all my Nans line dancing tunes. I put this on repeat and tried to forget the blandness of the route.

Mile 18, 14:18. The Shankill hill really done me in. It started to drizzle a little. I wanted it to be over. I'd lost all motivation and walking was becoming more apparent. My calfs were screaming at my. My mid back was surely starting to ache from pounding the hard tarmaced surface.

Mile 19, 13:57. Alliance Avenue. It was here that I came across a gentleman, he had to be in his 50's, carrying a army style backpack with a big sign of his chosen charity on the top. I couldn't imagine how heavy it was. It looked bloody heavy. Whether or not it was 15/20kg I was in awe of this guy. I followed him overtaking him then him overtaking me until 24 miles. What a guy. Fair play. I seen him finish not long after me as we were exiting the park.

Mile 20, 13:40. We went round a beautiful park and I met a lady who was walking her relay section due to gaining concussion. 3 weeks before. Her wise words, "I'm not killing myself over it. You see people getting into right states over timings". It's true. People collapse at the finish line to of races. Overexertion can kill. Scary. You wouldn't think running is dangerous. With an underlying medical condition it can well be. A man running this same event in his 50's only last year lost his life. For some it's an amazing day, testing you limits, for some families its a painful reminder. Always kiss your partners or hug whoever accompanies you to an event. I always do.

It was at this point my Mum and Lizzy facetimed me. They said how well I looked. And then Lizzy said, do you want to see Jay, Jay. She turned the camera and there he was snuggled into her lap. I cried. My Mum said the night before if he deteriorated anymore they'd have put him to sleep that day. But wouldn't have told me until I'd finished the marathon. I was elated to see his fluffy face. But crying and running is hard, especially after 20 gruelling miles. Just at that moment a supporter seen my face and the tears and shouted, 'Are you okay love, do you need a hug?!'. Bless her heart I quickly shuffled on, after telling her I was fine and I didn't want to stop and how grateful I was for her offer.

Mile 21 12:57, onto Duncairn Gardens and N Queens Street. To head back onto the outskirts of the town centre.

Mile 22, 13:08. Loo stop. I had nothing left in the tank. I was faltering so bad, my body felt lifeless. I was having to really put effort to go from a walk to a shuffle. It really was a shuffle now.

Mile 23, 12:57. A flat run along the side of the river. Across the river you could here the finishers tannoy welcoming runners home from Ormaeu Park. Ooo. How bad I wanted to be done. I was back to see Mr Backpack Guy. Bless him. He looked so tired.

Mile 24, 13:36. Over the bridge and back up and boy do I mean up Ormaeu Road. Horrific. Absolutely Horrific. What sadistic piece of shite put that incline in. I salvaged some Jelly Beans. Oo they were a yummy delight.

Mile 25, 14:08. We'd finally peaked and turned left to run back down into the park. The adrenaline surged through me. This marathon was nearly over. I was near to glory. Well... so I though. That was far from the truth. But my body rejuvenated some sort of energy from somewhere. Some bounce back to my stride.

Mile 26, 12:25. So close to the fini... Hold on. I don't see no finish anywhere. Where's the mass amount of people welcoming us home. It was just full of spectators walking in one direction or the other. People who'd already gained their glory and their beasty medal and amazing looking finishers Tee.

26.20 miles... ***buzz, buzz*** I look at my watch. Marathon PB achieved. 5:25:55. Still no finish line. :(. Seriously. You're teasing me now. It went on for what seemed eternity. Then we went back out the park!!!  Nooo. What the actual FUCK!!

I finally seen mile 26 on the flags. My watch was 26.60 miles by this point. There were 3 gents in front. The one in the middle was really, really struggling. They were taking him under each arm. Saying, "come on mate. Don't stop now. We're so close. You can't!". I ran past them and gave them a little encouragement.

The crowds were starting to thicken. This must be the end surely? They were shouting "Come on. Once you've turned this corner you can see the finish.". They weren't lying. I could see it. I wasn't hallucinating.

I ignited whatever speed I could to get to that finish line. I didn't even clock the photographers. I finished. I'd bloody done it. My second marathon had been completed!! At times during this race I didn't think I could complete this. I wanted to pull out so bad. But I'd beat the demons in my head. It was over.

A Marshall could clearly see how happy I was and said, "Grab you medal round there. You deserve it. Then you can have a good cry" and by God I bloody did. I walked out trying to find Jake and I shit you not. There was a spotlight on him from above, radiating his beautiful face as I looked directly forward, he was standing there looking around for me. I ran into his arms and just cried into his chest. He said how proud of me he was of me. We walked out of the way of the finishers village and I said to him, "I just need to sit. Let me sit down for a second. I'm in agony" he gotten me some. Joggers and my hoody. He had to take my trainers off, and I winced in bad as he touched my deformed heel (me and my Mum both suffer from haglunds deformity of the heel. It grows a extra bit of bone. If you look side on. My heel has a little spur sticking out if you like. That's the best way I can describe it). After this we got the shuttle bus to the centre and then a cab back to the house.

I had a well deserved soak in the bath. We then headed back into Belfast Centre for some dinner. I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten since 6am properly. I was in pain and hangry. It wasn't a good combo. Because it was the day before bank holiday and because of the marathon, everywhere was rammed. You can imagine how angry I was getting when in every bar/restaurant we went to, we were met with a 45min wait and that was just for a table. I said to Jake. For goodness sake. I knew we should have chilled back at the house and ordered a takeaway. We finally got seated rather quickly in Pizza Express and the food was delicious. Obviously we walked to a pub and drank a pint of Guiness as a must in any part of Ireland and went home to bed.

I didn't know my time until later that night. But in between that, I seen press releases on BBC sports news that the lead car went the wrong way twice and the race director admitted full liability for the course measurements being out by 0.30 of a mile. Well put it this way. My watch said 26.97 miles when I clicked stop. But let's face it. It was a new route. These are mere teething problems. It happens. However gutted I was as my watch paused when I went to the loo also, so I didn't have a concrete finishers time. Fair play to Belfast marathon. They issued readjusted times. In which mine came in at 5:33 oppose to 5:41 online. I swear that was the gun time. In my opinion I think it was more to 5:31. But. Who cares. I'll take 5:33. Its a personal best by 5 minutes from the Hull marathon in 2016. Its now Wednesday following race day, and everything seems to feel relatively back to normal. I'm aiming to go out tomorrow for a recovery 5k.

Next event is the Birmingham 10k at the end of this month. Again the route has been changed and I'm not overly excited for it. It looks really bloody bland. Running across and back on yourself on a dual carriageway/main road. But we shall see. I was going to sit it out this year. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I have done this event every year without fail. It was my second ever proper event in the running world.

The Build-Up to Marathon Day: Time to Taper Oo and Get Ill AGAINNN!

So near enough all the hard training and long runs are over until race day! Ooo, I’m getting so excited. I’ve got under 1 week until I fly out to Belfast. 

I’ve been training since the 16th December. If you have followed, or read about my debut marathon, you’ll see that I only ever trained up to 16 miles. So when race day come my mental strength failed me, and I was was reduced to run/walk from around 17/18 miles and struggled. In my opinion looking back, I set off way too fast. Even though I was relatively fit then and was hitting good mile paces in shorter runs. Through not training past 16 miles I underestimated the endurance of the marathon. To date, I have completed 1x 15 miler, 2x 18 miles 1x 22 miles. I have by far trained better than 2016! It’s taken me 3 years, a pregnancy and having a 1 year old to finally brave the distance again. 

My overall training has been great. I trained every day in January bar one. February seen me gain a major chesty cough with a sinus infection that fortunately I got on top of with antibiotics. March has been consistent. All my long runs have been completed. Which is a major bonus. So far I’ve missed on run this week just gone which was a 3-4 mile run. 

My first 15 mile attempt got me worried that I was broken, or that my body was refusing to live up to expectations. The last 3-4 miles seen me get immense pain running down my lower back. To the extent I nearly couldn’t walk the half mile home. Luckily I bathed and it was fine. I had flash backs to when I did my first marathon. Remembering the same pain. It made me think. Do I really want to do this after all? I said to myself I’d give it another go. 18 miles was to following week.

I planned the 18 miles on my phone. I was yet again going into unknown territory. But this time I decided to really slow my pace down and see how I got on. Overall, from what I remember I was stopping, pausing and looking to see if I was going to the correct way quite a fair bit. But apart from that, and having to cross an over flowing river bank it was a really lovely route which I'd love to do again. I felt tired for sure. A bit scared that I'd still have to cover a further 8 miles on the day. But I was optimistic. Then I got an upper respiratory infection. Or more commonly known as a cold. I was out 15th Feb until the 26th and that was only a short 2.5 mile run which was really uncomfortable. I began to doubt whether I'd be able to run the half marathon on the 3rd March. More to the point was it worth putting myself through it to maybe get another set back. If you've kept up to date, you'll see that I did in fact do this run and I was fine and gained a post pregancy PB.

In March I noticed that my pace was faltering. I was going back to being slow and struggling to maintain a 9:50 min mile pace. But this is to be expected. I'm hoping to ramp up the speed for the Birmingham 10k at the end of May. 

On 31/3, I ran commuted from the in laws where I base myself in Tamworth to my mums house in Coventry. I've cycled the route and always invisioned running it one day. It far exceeded expectations. It was beautiful. I was half expecting the drivers to be a bit angry because most of the journey was unpaved. But they were all really good. Passing really wide for me. The initial route was only 16 miles. The last 2 dragged me to hell and back. Now I think that was more mental. I envisioned 18 miles and it'd take me straight to my mums front door. But then you can imagine the utter disgusted when I had to make up a further 2 miles more. I finished this run and had a quick coffee, then got on my bike and cycled to work! Everyone couldn't believe that I'd ran all the way to Coventry and were like. Why are you here. Shouldn't you be resting. Not doing a night shift.

Cathedral to Castle 10 miler meant an easy week for me. I'll be finishing the write up for this shortly. But it was an amazing route and sparked another new route for my 22 miles that I had planned for the following week. 

The next week I only clocked up 5 miles in one run then ran the 22 miles. I just really struggled to get out with Jakes shifts.

I planned to run to Lichfield and back, it was around 23 miles when I planned it on my phone and I was really excited for it. Mum kindly had Freya over night, as I explained it was my last long run and I NEEDED to get it out of the way. I left at 9:40am. The first 4 miles seen me get into the rhythm of things. I reached Lichfield and was heading back on myself by 12 miles. My plan was to head through the firing range in a place called Whittington. So me being me, earphones in, not a care in the world carried on through. Having flash backs from the last week of what beauty was to come going through to Hopwas Wood then onto the canal. Then BANG, literally I seen over my right shoulder all these army guys lying on the floor with a massive gunshot interrupting my music. I stopped. Gathered it was probably really unsafe to play a human target and run to the other side and went back on myself to find that I'd completely disregarded a sign which ready if something along the time of, 'if red flag is flying high, no entry due to soldiers shooting practise' . I'm so glad I seen the guys and didn't get rubgy tackled and or shot and told off by the British army. With that, a brief pause to look at my phone and see if there was an alternative, safer route. I was 15 miles in and starting to feel the milage in my legs. Luckily there was a road which lead me back to the path I'd originally taken from 8 miles I got home successfully tired and really pissed off that Jake used all the hot water knowing the amount of milage I was to cover, Ooo and he left the water in the bath to further piss me off and rub it in my face. It was paining. But I woke up the next day with no niggles and felt really good considering.

I ran on the treadmill for 3 miles after a day off on the Monday. But the tickle in my throat and chest made it apparent I was getting another cold. I managed a 3 miler on the Thursday, but it was humid and I really struggled. By this time the cold was full blown. I struggled to breathe at work on sat/Sunday and by the tuesday, green snot galore. I was getting another blimmin sinus infection. I managed to get some penicilin. Which had, in the previous months stopped it in its tracks fairly quickly. But this time it wasn't taking any of it. I went to the walk in centre and got amoxicilin, which I've been on now for 3 days and it's still taking its time getting out of my system. I'm still feeling the pressure, but no where near the same severity of congestion that I'd felt since the Friday. Which is hopefully a good thing.

Obviously, it's typical of my immune system. My step mum today even said on the phone. "Gosh you're always ill before a big race. It's surely just normal now. You'll be fine for Sunday." and I've had my mother carry some words of wisdom along the lines of 'Nicole. Don't stress you've even said you covered more in training that your first marathon. You've got the long runs out the way. You'll be fine. There are plenty more attempts when it will go perfectly with no hiccups.' I live to see the day. 

I'm really hoping she's right. I had a shot at the treadmill last night after work it was okayish. 5k at marathon pace which is I'm hoping to be around or just over 12 mins per mile. For now I'll try another get in another run. But then it'll be to rest, prepare and pack for flying out to Belfast on Saturday evening. Wish me luck. 

Coventry Half Marathon- Hometown Half’s HAVE to get PB’s

What. A. Day. 

Leading up to the event on the Saturday, I got a phone call off my Mum saying Freya was violently throwing up. She gained the dreaded norovirus for 4 days. It was horrific. On the Sunday, I had caught it. Although not sick, it came out the other end and the neasea was exceedingly unpleasant. I felt drained and we slept an aweful lot. 

At this point, I was ready for a DNS on Sunday. Come Wednesday, it was time to go back to Tamworth after not going to work for my two nights on. First time in half a year I’ve had a sick day. Jake, Jakes Mom, his Dad, his sister all came down with the same thing and Jake was still bad when I got home. I was really fortunate. I don’t know whether it was my immune system, but I somehow gained lesser more kinder symptoms and didn’t get it half as bad. Thank God, did he know? 

I messaged my running coach. Well, a local gent who I purchased a 10 week plan for the remainder of the my marathon training as to what I should do. We agreed for a steady 3 miler of Friday to determine how I felt on that. 

So I went out and my God, I felt fresh as hell. I was like a horse thats been on box rest for a week and finally allowed to go out to the field. I was elated after that 3 miles and most definitely felt ready for Coventry. 

The night of. I stayed at my Dads so we could walk to the start. We had a 8:30am start. I was up for 6am. That is probably the earliest I’ve ever started a race. 

It was busy with runners everywhere. The new area   was by uni, and my stomach cramps told me to line up for the port a loo’s. 

After that, I was doubly ready to start. We walked to the back of the que as the tannoy guy was telling us to get into our desired finish time pens. My Dad goes, “2:15 you can do that surely” by this time he was already lifting me over the barriers and putting a heafty weight on my shoulders to start a little quicker than I was planning. I wanted to follow a 2:20 pacer. 

The start does the same kind of loop. Onto Little Park street, around the city centre and then onto Radford road which takes off the first mile. I was not impressed, it was very congested and prohibited me to gain an even pace having being stuck behind everyone. Maybe it does pay to be a little in over your head in the start pens so you can gain momentum more. I don’t know. Might test it next year. 

First mile 9:47, I don’t know how I was producing that as my watch kept beeping at me saying that my pace was ‘slow’ at 11:30/mile at regular intervals. I felt the bounce in my pace return. It was lovely to feel that. Since marathon training I’ve felt sluggish. 

Mile 2: Instead of going up Lawrence Sanders Road, we headed further up the Radford road turning left onto Mosely Avenue. This was literally a 2 minute run from my house. Gutted my Mum couldn’t just pop down the road to see me. She probably would have if I’d asked her to to be honest. But I didn’t study the new route properly. 

Mile 2 (10:22) mile 3 (9:55) My regular work commute route. I was laughing at myself. In a few hours following this, I was due in work for 4, I’d be cycling this same road. It was all down hill. On the left turn onto Holyhead Road I looked out for my bestie Lizzy, who was initially spectating to see her Dad, good ol’ Kev. May I add, he’s in his 60’s and gained a sub 1:40 half for Coventry. Well done Kevlar. After a quick hug and a kiss I was back off running up the Holyhead road. The first gradual incline of the day. 

My 5K time must have been just below 31 minutes, which was quite fast considering in training it’s been around 32, a stalemate for having to do longer miles and pacing myself adequately. 

Mile 4 (10:08) it was at this point I was running past a woman in a pink vest and under my headphones I herd a “hello, you”. It was only Faye Clark from the stables where we kept Guinny at Hollyfast. Her horse, Archie lived next to Guinny in the barn. So at one time I saw Faye quite a lot. She was running for a fantastic cause. Little Rosie Abbott, who lost her battle in 2016 of cancer. I knew her from the yard also. A little ray of sunshine and rainbow now in the sky. We had a little chat and wished each other good luck and I went ahead. Faye did a great time of 2:27 and also gained a cold before race day, so this was an amazing effort. 

Mile 5 (10:08) onto Washbrook Lane. So many memories of hacking the horses around here. They were there to replay in my mind and pass this mile. 

Mile 6 (10:31) onto Bridlebrook Lane. Another little incline. I went up thinking I was one of the horses. But here I was refined to a walk. At the tuning onto Wall Hill Road. I was met by the Northbrook Stand. Which is now my second claim club. How I’d love to train with them again. But it’s just too difficult to get child care on their training days. 

Mile 6, culmulative time was 1:00:06 which meant my 10k time was pretty much a new PB for me. 

Mile 7 (10:33) Going up to mile 8, I was greeted by far the best water station. The Hollyfast Meadow’s lot. I don’t think they realised who I was at first, but as I ran past I herd the yard owner shout “GOOOO NICOLE” at the top of her lungs. That was lovely to hear. They eventually realised who I was. Thank God. I wasn’t just this passer by shouting “Faye will be with you shortly. I’ve seen her!” 

Mile 8 (11:01) my worst split of the day. Once I peaked from Hollyfast Lane, I knew it was all downhill from here. Many a times I’ve ran the Tamworth Road segment the opposite way. So I am an expert. I put the time predictor on my watch and it was fluctuating between 2:16/17 finish time. So here I tried to keep consistent, make the most of the decline. 

Mile 9 (10:03). It must have worked with redeeming my 11 min mile on the last. Coming down by my old secondary school, I was flagging. From here I had a few walk for a couple of seconds. Up Waste lane, which was put in to take out the out and back of Long Lane was so much better, in my opinion. 

Mile 10 (10:40) the walking was impeding my good splits. We were back in Coundon. Definitely on our way back to the town centre. 

Mile 11 (10:29) Man I was in pain. But I knew it was my legs giving out not my mind. I just tried to forget the fatigue and just keep ruuuuning. 

Mile 12 the last hill, the last hill!!!!!! (10:15) I was so close, yet so far! The hill by the TA centre and Barr’s Hill, school,  I had to walked for 30 seconds again. Then gave myself a pep talk. Like come onnnnnnn. You’ve nearly gained glory gooo. The decent down the to the city centre felt like I flew down it. My Duracell bunny had kicked into action. 

 

Great support from the Salvation Army by the way. 

Mile 13 (9:59) we got round to Pool Meadow to take a right up towards the cathedral finish, which is a little incline. I ran my heart out to the finish!! 

What an amazing run, consistency with pace was on point, and I get pretty damn amazing seen as though I had an illness. I finished strong in 2:15:28 the first time in while that my watch corresponded the correct time as the official online results. 

I really, really enjoyed the new route, the support was fantastic. I guess I’ll be back next year all being well! 

Anglesey Half Marathon 2019- “Oo Look... It’s Raining” Typical Welsh Weather

Yeeey, so the day finally came to my first half marathon of the year. 

This was suppose to be in Warwick. But we wanted to see our family in Wales, and luckily this half was the same day as Warwick. After looking online the 10k had already sold out. But the half was still available. All that was left to do was to try and sell my Warwick half place. I did so successfully! 

I was so chuffed with my immune system. I avoided all colds and flu viruses for a whole month and a half. Only gaining a mere crappy bug (literally) for 2 days. 

Then... dun, dun, durrr. I gained a ridiculous cold on Friday the 15th. I was so glad I’d gotten my 18 miler done the day before with no issues. After this, of course I got a sinus infection! Luckily, I took antibiotics for 5 days and it went. But then, I developed bronchitis with a bad chest. Well they say things come in threes right. So I’d been out of running for 2 weeks. I attempted a 3 miler the Tuesday before race day, it went terribly. I just gave up in the end due to a really painful stitch. I tried my normal method of exhailing and striking the foot down on the opposite side, but it was to no avail. Hopeless. I switched my watch off and dragged my bottom lip all the way home, defeated. 

Here we go again I thought. One tremendous step back. AGAIN! My motivation was faltering so I invested what little money I had left for the month on a local running coach to put together my last 9 week training plan in the lead up to Belfast. He gave me this on Friday night. Which ignited a little motivation. 

My chest got better, I wasn’t coughing much. Only having coughing fits at night. Which was good news to my ears. On Wednesday morning, I opted not to go all out on leg day and do some simple glute exercise instead. Then the next day I realised I’d aggravated my bloody piriformis on the right hand side. Just under my butt cheek, I was being weird and constantly grabbing it in pain. Christ. This wasn’t going well at all! 

As with many times in the past, I just rested for the remainder of the week, not to mention stupidly putting Deep Heat on my lower bum after I had a shower then walking round trying to sit on something cold because my left cheek was on fire. After googling why that might be. I came to the conclusion that a hot shower had opened my pours, and thus the Deep Heat got absorbed a little too much and had 10x the ‘heat’ effect. To my surprise this didn’t even work :-( 

I gave myself till Saturday night to decide as to whether it would be worth further aggravating and causing more injury time off running, just for a half marathon. I had to think of the bigger picture. 

Saturday morning we set off for Anglesey. The pain was gone, so I just said. Slow. Which would be inevitable due to no proper training in 2 weeks. 

Sunday came along and also a potential ‘Storm Freya’ (LOOOL). The irony. Luckily we were to avoid the harsh winds. But gained the rain. Not in full force, thankfully. To be honest, it was quite relaxing when running in it. 

We arrived over Menai Bridge to the start with 30 minutes to spare. It just so happened that I had not been to the loo before I came, so I quickly lept into the first queue I saw. It was massive and people were taking their sweet merry time. The race start was 9am sharp. Tick tock peoples... 20 too, 10 too... the announcer reminding us every minute over the tannoy how long we had left and to start lining up.  the men who wanted a wee, had urinals so you could guarantee the men left waiting for the port-a-loo’s needed a big shit! Aha. 

59 minutes past 8. For goodness sake. I was still third in line! But I knew I had to go, it was a long way to wait until 9 miles in. It would haunt me, I knew it would. I finally got out and then my Dad goes, “stay with Freya, I’m going to use the urinals”... 

DAAAAAD. IVE GOTTA GO!!! 

He took his sweet merry time also. So I literally ran and nearly took out 5 kids who were due to run the Dragon Dash. I love kids. Like I have a baby. But seriously. Moveeeeee I paid a lot more to start this race. 4 minutes past 9, I eventually crossed the starting mat and was one my way. What a anticlimactic start all the other runners were gone out of sight... All the spectators were on the bridge just strolling back over. I was dodging people left, right and centre. Then I came the roundabout by the Anglesey Arms, with no runners  in front of me. I grabbed a Marshall and he told me where to go. I felt lonely. This was not the same as back in 2017. Definitely makes a difference when you start with everybody on TIMEEE. 

Mile 1 - 10:11. Set off too fast. Causing a stitch. But I did reach the back of the pack! Yeeey running humans. I have arrived! 

Mile 2 - 10:43. Here I thought I wanted to sustain 10:40ish or under 11 min miles for as long as I could. 

5k- 10:35. Around a 32 mins. Still had a stitch, and I was pinching it and relseasing it to try get it to fuck off, as it was seriously doing my swede in now. 

Mile 4 - 10:42. Onto the Menai Strait on Beaumaris Road. 

Mile 5- 10:37. I was met by the winning male running back, for him it would be about mile 9. Man, he was fast 💨. The sheer look of concentration filled his face. Amazing. I’m pretty sure he won it too. Gosh I love Jake, but what I’d give for him to be into running. He’s really lanky and has the typical somatotype of a runner. But he smokes, and has a few health problems. I shall succeed in getting him to run an event with me yet. There’s still time. Taking into account many runners don’t start till their 30’s, he’s 27 this year! It’s my life goal 😂. Not getting married to him- making him run with me. 

10k - I have no clue what my 10k time was. I can only assume it was around 1:06. My 6th mile came in at 10:50. After this, I remembered the route very clearly. The first significant incline of the race. Ffordd Eglwys it’s sharp going from 15ft to 140ft. I felt it. 

Mile 7- 12:04. Worst split of the day. That shows just how difficult the incline was. 

Mile 8- 10:18. This mile always seems to be the make or break of me in a half. My flagging point my petrol reserve was flashing. At this point it was fairly windy. I couldn’t really feel my hands and I just wanted it to be over. My knees were feeling the brutal force of each footstrike, and my lower back on the right and left of my spine started to give a dull ache! I felt like an old woman with dodgy hips and knees. Plus, I’d forgotten to pack my Runner’s knee straps which really do make a difference for me. 

Mile 9- 10:56. A run out onto to costal path along the sea/ lake of Beaumaris. Then back onto the high street. 

Mile 10- 11:09. The hill of death. 38ft to 110ft. I had to walk. This was probably the most I’d walked since inbetween mile 6 and 7. Stopping to walk for a whole minute. Then I decided. Feck it. No headphones my asshole. I plugged that shit in and blasted my music. It most definitely got me through the last 3 miles. 

Mile 11- 11:48. A pretty bland mile. Back onto the main road, back to the finish. It’s great. But the walls get in the way out the wonderful water view. 

Mile 12- 11:27. Happy, happy, happy mile. I knew I was kind of in time for a post pregnancy PB. I upped to 9 mile miles for a little, feeling a little refreshed! 

Mile 13- 10:25. Yeahhaaaaaaaaaa. I’m so close to finishing my first half for the year. Gooo, gooo, goooo. Luckily the last 0.10 was practically downhill and I sprinted to the finish. Well I only got up to 9:47. That’s all I had left in the tank! 

My watch read 2:22:58. Due to starting late. My official time through text message was 2:27. Am I hell going with that one! Completely inaacurate. 

I got my post pregnancy PB by 20 seconds off the Brum Half back in October. 

I’ll just add this on the end. My Dad rang me at the end to tell me where to meet him. Did I feck know where I was going. A journey which should of took me 10 mins went extended to 40. By that time I truly knew what cold meant. I had a cold sweat and the rain had started to pick up. I actually was getting so stressed out on the phone to my Dad. Like ffs. I’m freezing, getting pneumonia here come and find me NOWWWW!! 😂. 

Another great event put on by the Always Aim High event crew. They’ve recently launched a new 10k and half in Anglesey at Newborough Forrest in June. So I’ll see what my fitness is and try and do that one for a change of scenery. But for now. Roll on the Coventry Half at the end of March! I cannot wait. Fingers crossed I don’t accept rain anymore niggles or germs.