One foot in the not-so-grave

Well, two visits to the podiatrists later, and it seems that there is good news and bad news
The good news is I haven't got a fracture
The bad news is I have got some random acute injury which hurts to run on, and means I have to stay off my running feet for a couple of weeks until it gets better. The doc even tried strapping my foot up to see if altering the mechanics would help but to no avail. It's rest, anti inflammatories and (im)patience for me for a while

The weather here continues to be amazing, so pretty heartbroken to miss out on all this fairweather training, and will have to resort to my very rickety old bike to get some outdoor cross training in.

Not being able to run has made me fantasize about running somewhat, I've been musing on my marathon experience of 2009 and wondering what it will be like in Berlin this year. Will I have a similar experience? Will it be positive? Will it be negative?

It also occurred to me that my marathon memory is starting to fade. When I try to plan for this year's test, and I look back on lessons learnt, I've realised that I'm starting to forget the experience.

To refresh my memory, and provide a tangible record, this and my next couple of blog posts will be a retrospective of the 5 boroughs 2009.  For those of you who've heard it all before, I apologise. And hell, apologies to the rest of you too.

Pre-marathon I remember well, as it basically involved a very long sleepless night. Whoever decided to hold a marathon the day after Halloween, when America par-tays, was a very foolish or very cruel person. Wisdom tells you to get an early night before a marathon. Easier said than done.

Adrenalin and nerves were enought to keep me awake. Not content with the body's ability to keep me alert, the pre-marathon gods had also conspired to make Halloween the night the clocks went back an hour too. I was in utter panic at the thought of my alarm clock not being set to the right time, panic at the thought the hotel would forget my wake call, panic at not getting any sleep. A very restful combination, you will agree.
The final straw was the group of people who decided to par-tay in the corridor outside my hotel room. I thought shouting at a bunch of complete strangers, who felt well within their rights to be shouting and hollering at 3.30 am in a hotel corridor, was pretty much the nadir of my pre-marathon experience. But then I hadn't used a portapotty at that point.

If I remember correctly, we got to the ferry terminal in Manhatten for the trip to Staten Island at about 6am. But it might have been earlier. Who knows, it was unholy, that is certain. There was an amorphous mob of lycra waiting to get on a ferry and you couldn't help but feel sorry for anyone who might have just had a great night out clubbing and wanted to get home afterwards in a dishevelled Halloween costume.

I remember the ferry ride being very serene, with Lady Liberty looking on. I remember the transfer bus to the start being a bit more hectic, but with the added entertainment of seeing what everyone had decided to wear as a disposable pre-race outfit.

When we got to the start area, we found we still had a couple of hours to kill. Thankfully NY is a sensible woman who had brought magazines and a paper to read. We also had plenty of time to visit the delightful portaloos for the ritual pre-race toilet visits. Equipped with toilet paper and hand wipes (get us), we were ready for anything. Even for the misfortune of using a toilet that had been frequented by a fool who thought chilli was a good pre-race dinner.

Pre-start is just a lot of sitting and waiting (sit, don't stand - after all, you're going to be on your feet plenty for the next few hours), watching other people's rituals. Lots of 'thanking your lucky stars you get to wear a sports bra rather than just a loose running vest'. Men have a lot more 'chafables' than we ladies, and for that I am eternally grateful.

And then the moment of truth, where they call you to the start. It had been raining overnight so the start area was fairly muddy and it seemed unlikely that any charity would be able to use the clothes we dumped unceremoniously at the start. A complete stranger took our photo on his BlackBerry to email to us, and we were ready to go. With the cheesy sound of Francis Albert Sinatra blaring out, we set off in a throng towards the Verrazzano Bridge and all of a sudden, that was it. Racing. Across the bridge. With a perfect view of just how far you have to run for the rest of the day stretching out on your left.

As you as you leave the bridge, you enter Borough 2 - the biggie, Brooklyn. A major chunk of the race is run through Brooklyn, which is probably just as well given the amount of visual stimulation it provides. And then there is the support.

Bay Ridge, the residential part of Brooklyn that kicks it all off was lined with complete strangers - all shouting our names. At first, natural manners kick in and you think 'ooh that person must know me' Then you realise 'oh no, I have my name on my shirt' and wave anyway but after about 10 miles you realise that you can't acknowledge everyone who cheers you along. 

The first couple of miles are all about checking people out, figuring out who your pacemakers are, seeing who is doing the weirdest thing mid marathon (bouncing a basketball all the way round, for example). Fancy dress is not a big thing in the NY marathon, which is a relief if you've ever been slapped in the face by a balloon mid-race at the Great North Run, but there is still plenty of gimmick runs to keep you mentally occupied. Taking in my fellow runners helps me get mentally settled in, establish a vague community, get into a pace. All important stuff at the outset.

Then I had my long race toilet panic - I knew I would have at least one, and I had to stop at about mile 4 in Brooklyn. That one visit to the portaloo ensured I would never need the toilet again during the race, even if I drank in gallons of fluid. I still have Nam-style flashbacks about the inside of that toilet - to the day I die I will not understand how a previous visitor had managed to do what they did that high up the wall - but it had the positive effect of giving me toilet-fright and ensuring I would run to the finish before I stopped again

And it was uphill from there - literally.

Stay tuned for part 2

LON