My 13 mile victory

I'm not a natural runner. Several years ago I managed to stumble my way round a 10k and annually watched the London marathon dreaming ‘one day ...'; but I like a challenge and having completed Tough Guy in July 2008 decided that a half marathon was the obvious progression.

The year started badly when in March I injured my back and my training schedule which had reached the dizzy heights of 2 minutes on the treadmill (running for a train and collapsing in a heap on said train was about all I could manage before that) was put on hold. Over the course of the next few months under Chris's expert guidance, my training regime gradually increased from running half a mile at an ageing snail's pace to a mile at a younger snail's pace then a couple of miles. I was even becoming to enjoy it.

Soon it was time to set out on longer runs and to run for over an hour; that milestone was comprehensively achieved much to my delight and slight disbelief following an hour and twenty minute run. My technique gradually changed and my running style became more fluid. Some days were better than others; an hour's run one day was a breeze whereas 30 minutes on another day felt like I was wearing lead boots and carrying a small elephant along with me for the ride. I discovered that high tempo dance music played at stratospheric volumes aided my progress and my ipod (other MP3 players are available) became essential kit.

Summer came and went, and suddenly at the end of September the day dawned of the Windsor Half Marathon. I felt slightly anxious as I joined my fellow runners on the Long Walk of Windsor Great Park; it took approximately 9 minutes for us at the back of the field to get through the start line. The course itself was undulating however I kept in mind the motivational phrases that Chris had used during our training sessions "run the hills and the race will run itself" and "work hard into the hills". I did think about other strange things on my way round but those thoughts are best left buried at the back of my mind.

It was a hot day and there were many standards of runners, some of whom had clearly prepared more than others. I got slightly irked by some of my fellow competitors who alternated between running and walking and kept overtaking me only to stop running and walk in front of me. I was determined to keep running or at least jogging, partly because I could to occupy the moral high ground but also because I knew it would hurt more to stop and restart. And I did run all the way.

At times it was a long hard slog, but once I had got to 10 miles I kept reminding myself that it was only 3 miles to go, the equivalent of the end of my road and back. The support of the crowd helped me along especially those who would call out my name in encouraging tones. A gentleman came alongside me and asked me by name how I was doing, it took a few moments for me to work out whether or not I recognised him (which I didn't) then to remember that my name was printed on my T-shirt.

With a mile to go, my stride lengthened and my heart soared. I could see the finishing line in the distance and my friend and loyal supporter Amy cheered me on and ran with me some of the way. As the seconds ticked away I had a sudden spurt on energy and crossed the finishing in 3 hours 5 minutes; with the 9 minutes it took to get across the start line it meant that I finished in 2 hours 46 minutes and 50 seconds.

I was shattered but elated as my medal was presented to me. My next challenge: 2 hours 45 minutes. Then maybe a marathon ...

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