Emma and Lil arrived at 9am to go for our 18 mile run together. We were all aware that as I am a little bit faster than them this would mean only starting together, but it was an enormous psychological boost knowing that they were doing this too and were somewhere on the towpath behind me. Plus had they not been arriving so early I might well have just said "Fuck it" and gone back to sleep.
I have to admit that the prospect of running eighteen miles was scaring me. It is a long way and my legs are only little. On top of this 15 miles had been Hellish and 18 miles was longer than this, by three miles. I was ready for some pain.
This time I made sure I was definitely carbed up. I'd had some bread before I went to sleep and got up early for four Weetabix and a banana. I had sort of thought that running the Marathon and rowing the boat race would make me thinner, but all I'm doing is eating twice as much and staying the same weight.
There will be time to become thin later, for now I must concentrate on preparing my body for this stupid and pointless endurance task.
Emma also has a GPS satellite device, the same as mine. I have been concerned that mine hasn't been functioning correctly as my times when running on my own are so much slower than my times in the races. I know that I am definitely going faster when competing, but according to my watch it takes me over two minutes longer to run a mile when I'm on my own. It doesn't feel to me like I'm doing that badly.
So I took the opportunity, whilst accompanying the girls down to the river (before bombing off and leaving them behind) to see if our watches were in sync. After about half a mile, Em's watch said she had done 0.04 of a mile further than me, which was strange, but possibly not too significant. But approaching a mile (on my watch) and Em's read 1.1. If my system was that badly out it was no wonder that my minutes per mile were so high. What my watch told me was an 18 mile run, if this continued, would actually be closer to 20.
Unless, of course, it was Em's watch that was wrong.
I decided to run as if my watch was correct, reasoning that although it might be dispiriting to record such poor times, it is actually better for me to be running further and it will just make my race day times appear more impressive.
Compared to the 15 miler this run was a breeze. There was no early pain in my legs and I was running consistently and had bags of energy. I had decided to run along the north path of the river from Hammersmith towards Richmond, and simply to turn round and run home over the exact same route when my watch got to nine miles. Psychologically this was a great thing to do as it meant you were passing markers that you knew and thus had a good concept of how much further there was to go. I actually lost track of the river in Brentford and ended up running through Syon Park. My watch ticked over to 9 miles (which might have been nearer to 10, who knows?) and I turned back and headed for home.
As I completed 13.1 miles my legs felt fine and I wasn't the slightest bit hungry, though according to my watch my time was almost exactly the same as for last Monday. I had dawdled a little bit at the beginning so I could keep back with the girls, but the rest of the run had felt a lot faster to me.
I got to fifteen miles still feeling fine (and a minute and a hlaf quicker than on Monday). I was really enjoying it and it seemed to have gone by so quickly.
The last two miles were harder, but I knew I was going to make it home. In the end I'd been running for just over three and a half hours and according to my watch had covered 18.23 miles (so coming back was apparently a quarter of a mile further than going out - on the same route).
If my watch was right I would have only have to run eight more miles to have completed a Marathon and if it was wrong it might be less than that. Either way it felt like an amazing achievement.
Em and Lil arrived back within half an hour, swearing and complaining, but as amazed and victorious as me. The only slight downside is that we have to do 20 miles next week.
We all bathed (not together, but I'm going to suggest that next week. I am biding my time) and I cooked a massive pan of pasta and pesto. When I stood up after eating it, I groaned like an old person. My legs were stiff, but not as stiff as on other occasions and by the afternoon I felt as fit as a flea, though without the leaping abilities or the desire to consume my bodyweight in human blood (and anyone who says I had those desires etc).
Later, out for a curry with my rowing hobbit friends (happy to find out that we are all still deeply in love with each other) I found it hard to believe that the morning had ever taken place.
Bring on the real thing. I think I'm going to win it. Providing their timing devices are as wonky as mine.
