Last Sunday was the second Brighton Marathon – and what a lovely day for it…if you were a spectator that is!

I was one of the individuals crazy enough to run it and with temperatures reaching 23 degrees Celsius; it was not the sort of running conditions that I expect any of us had trained in. But hey whatever the weather, 26.2 miles is never going to be easy is it!

This was my first running race of any kind (well except for a one mile fun run when I was about six) and so I approached it how many would do – with fear! From about October last year I have been pounding the streets, running about four times a week. Every week. Remember when it snowed? Yes I still ran in that. Fear is a good motivator! I signed up after being in awe watching the runners the previous year, it was a lovely warm day and a far cry from the winter months when most of the training has to be put in.

But the training paid off and dare I say it, I didn’t find the marathon too tough, it was by no means easy but there wasn’t a point where I thought I couldn’t carry on and that I wanted to die. I owe a lot of the success down to the Brighton Marathon training runs. Religiously every Sunday morning the group went out for a long run. I joined the group at the seven miles point and each week the run increased by a mile until it reached 20. During the runs they gave great advice to help mentally and physically push you along. I was amazed at my first half marathon distance and equally amazed every week as the mileage increased. I ended up doing two 20 mile runs this meant on the day I mentally knew I could to the majority of the race and once I reached the 20 mile point the crowd pushed me along.

One of the toughest things I found on the day was seeing the finish line. I have prepared physically for months for this moment but honestly thought there was no way I would actually finish. Seeing the finish line was the first time I believed I could be a marathon runner. On seeing it, I panicked. I couldn’t breath in (not handy when you are still running) and I wanted to stop. For some reason I didn’t want to cross the line, it sounds strange but I think I just didn’t want it to be over. So I bit my lip, looked down so I couldn’t see it anymore, ignored the crowds who were telling me I was almost there and just ran pretending I still had 10 miles to go. I cried as I finished, I did it in 4hrs 44 minutes and am very proud of myself.

But what now? Am I looking forward to having a social life back? Yes. Do I want to do another marathon? I am no sure. Do I want it to be over? No. If you have been inspired, you can already sign up for next year's race at http://brightonmarathon.co.uk/

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