How not to run a half marathon

Miles I am supposed to run: 8

Miles I actually ran: 0

Croissants eaten: 2

Struggling a bit to motivate myself at the moment. I had hoped keeping this blog might help me to keep going with my running after the Edinburgh Half Marathon, as I'd need to run in order to write the blog. However, it turns out I can write rubbish just as well as I can talk it, so the actual running doesn't seem to matter. As a result, that plan doesn't seem to be working as well as I would have liked! I just seem to be so good at coming up with excuses not to run! "It's too hot," "It's too humid," and "I have a slight twinge in left shin, maybe it's shin splints. Better be careful and not run." 

So today I have decided to sign myself up to another race. I had had a brief conversation with a friend about running the Amsterdam Half Marathon. But today I have decided to go for it, and booked my place. Now I have announced here, I will have to go through with it!

I ran my first half marathon last year. It wasn't only my first half, but also my first race, and I think I made every mistake you can possibly make in a race! I started the race having only done about half the training I was supposed to have done, and I had no idea what would be a respectable time for a half marathon. I decided on a time in my head that was completely unrealistic. I seemed to believe that the adrenaline would turn me in to Paula Radcliffe on the day, so it would all be fine :). 

I stood on the start line, feeling over confident, and bolted off with all the fast people near the front. After 3 miles, I realised the mistake I had made. After 8 miles I was really tired and threw a massive tantrum, texting Mr Runner to tell him how awful the whole thing was, and I was NEVER doing it again. At mile 10, there was a MASSIVE hill. I had only trained on the flat of the Thames path, so that was a bot of a shock. Mr Runner bribed me with the promise of cake and crisps, so I pushed myself to the finish, but vowed I would never put myself through it again. 

A bit like child birth, this pain was very quickly forgotten about. So a few hours later, feeling annoyed and frustrated at myself for not getting the time I wanted, and still high from finishing, I was desperate to sign up for another one. Mr Runner did not believe that this was such a good idea, stating that I had been a pain in the arse to live with throughout the training (he was still a little bit grumpy about the fact I had eaten all his scampi). However, after much persuasion and a little bit of bribery, he eventually let me sign up to another race, and I ran Edinburgh this year. 

Mr Runner is much more enthusiastic about Amsterdam, as I have promised him a trip to the Heineken factory.