66/100 - Moonwalk Edinburgh June 2012

In lieu of a 'normal' daily post today, I have been thinking a fair bit, lately, about the Moonwalk, and needed to remind myself of why it would be a Very Bad Idea to sign up again this year... So, on checking, I realised I never did get a post written up on the blog about that night, so it's long overdue!! Ready....? Warning: There may be swearing........

Sarah's Moonwalk 2012.

Never again.

Never again. No, really. Never. If I start hesitantly suggesting I might, I do expect everyone to tell me I'm an idiot.

The Moonwalk is a charity marathon walked through the night, to raise money for Breast Cancer charities. I raised about £400 in sponsorship, which is brilliant as it's a great cause, but really, that's not why I signed up. I had something to prove to myself, for this year's Moonwalk back in the summer. I had tried to walk it 3 years ago, 60lbs heavier, with very little training, and had crashed out at 8 miles. This time I was pretty determined to get round. Or at least, I thought I was, but this determination was to be really tested.

There was torrential rain the couple of hours before we started (the walk starts at midnight), and as we were in a tent in the middle of Inverleith Park, walking to the start line meant walking through pools of soaked grass and rain that just went straight into your shoes. I hadn't brought spare socks because I was keeping the amount of stuff I was carrying to the bare minimum (I still took way too much, of course) - so as we started walking just after midnight, I soon discovered that my shoes were filling with water with every step, and my socks were soaked through. It was very much NOT fun.

I was walking with my friends Tamara and Paula, Tamara's friend Karen, and Paula's sister Adi. We (mostly) started in high enough spirits, despite the rain - I even tried to smile widely at the camera, to pretend everything would be Just Fine. Look.... double thumbs up and everything!!! We were meant to be dressed to the 'Arabian Nights' theme, hahaha, but I don't think the belly-dancing look goes well with a Scottish summer downpour... ;)

The rain stopped after maybe an hour or two of walking - it was only light rain while we were walking, and thankfully once it stopped it never came back, but the worst of the damage had been done before the walk even started: every step I took, water squelched out of my socks and whooossshheed through my toes. It was a disgusting feeling, and I could feel I was walking with a slightly weird footstep to try and avoid it. I told myself this wasn't a great idea, when there are 26.2 miles of walking to do....

The first mile or two were slow, because of the crowds, and I walked with all four girls. Once the crowd started to thin out a bit, I marched out, determined to find spaces and keep a reasonable speed. I lost Paula and Adi for a while - Adi wasn't very well, so they were taking things easier - and I put my head down and powered up Arthur's Seat, the big hill in the middle of Edinburgh. I was overtaking dozens and dozens of women, just totally focussing on walking with a good speed - my Garmin watch said I was managing miles in sort of 16:45 min per mile speed, not bad at ALL for going uphill! I was feeling strong, and determined.

It didn't last... The downhill should have been the easy part, but my toes were squelching horribly, and I could feel my wet feet getting wrinkly and uncomfortable. This was only 6 miles in, I was starting to feel disheartened...

Getting out of the park, we stood to one side and waited for Paula and Adi to arrive - once we'd checked they were okay, we set off again, and promptly sped off at a fast walking pace. At this stage, I still felt I could keep up a brisk pace, and I knew that wouldn't be the case later on, so I wanted to get as many miles under my feet as I could while I still had the energy. I'm sure we lost Paula and Adi again within minutes!

For the next few miles, we didn't do a LOT of talking - Tamara and I just walked, normally about 4 or 5 metres behind Karen, who had the energy and enthusiasm of a small child who's just had a bag of sugar. She was joyfully pointing out all the mile markers, and yelling things like "speed bump!" happily, while Tamara and I just walked. And walked. And walked.

We were doing pretty well, but from about 12 miles my feet were feeling all burning and uncomfortable. About the same time they have done at all of my long training walks. I knew this is because I'm still overweight, this whole thing would be so much easier if I lost the last 40lbs or so... But also, the drying socks and wet feet were probably causing a few wee blisters that hadn't remotely been a problem during my fair-weather training. At about 12.7 miles, we hit the coastline, and were walking along the parkrun route at Silverknowes. We stopped at Mile 13 for a photo opportunity, halfway there!! It was about 4am, I think - so we'd made pretty good time, having started at midnight. I also had a wee rest, briefly, swinging my feet in the air as I sat on the wall, and wondered how the hell they were going to get me through another 4+ hours.

It was a question I would ask myself every 3 or 4 minutes for the next 5½ hours.

We stopped somewhere between mile 15 and 16, so I could go to the loo, and Karen wasn't doing well. I was grateful for the chance to sit down while Karen recovered herself, and Paula and Adi caught us up at this point. Paula was chatting happily to strangers in the crowd - in fact, every single time I saw her, she was chatting happily to anyone and everyone - the woman is just simply amazing, and I'm so proud to call her my friend. Adi was struggling, but determinedly carrying on - what a star! I let the pair of them go on ahead, while I waited with Tamara and Karen, feeling a bit sorry for myself and wondering what on earth I was going to do about my painful feet. In addition, I'd slept about 3 or 4 hours in the past 48 hours, and I was so unbearably tired that I was actually feeling dizzy when I looked down.

This was uncharted territory, now - although the route was very well known to me, my training walks had unfortunately not gone further than about 15 miles - I cursed my lack of training, which was not for want of planning, but more for my not getting over circumstances getting in the way.

From there through to about mile 18, I had to keep stopping every half hour or so, to stretch a bit because my calves and hamstrings were tightening, but mostly because I just couldn't bear to keep walking. It was just so painful and miserable, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Karen, on the other hand, couldn't bear to stop moving, because she would start to feel sick - so it was a bit of a problem. We reached Portobello promenade, and I had to stop again - this time we let Karen go on ahead, and here was where we met up with Paula and Adi again, for the last time I think. Paula gave me a huge hug, and I was pretty much on the verge of hysterical tears - I was desperate to give up and go home.

I'd been thinking for a couple of miles how I could tell everyone who'd supported me that I'd given up at about mile 17 or 18 - I started to play conversations through in my head, which mostly ended in my feeling ashamed. Eventually, though, I was so upset and bloody miserable with every painful footstep that I'd decided the next time I saw a marshal I would pretend to twist my ankle - that way, I could get a lift back home, and could tell everyone I'd been forced to stop due to an injury. I didn't tell anyone my plan, but with every agonised step, it was getting stronger in my mind.

We let Karen go on, and Paula and Adi went off, so Tamara and I were on our own, and both suffering. We reached a marshal, and I thought about my ankle-twisting plan, but realised that would leave Tamara on her own for the last few hours, which I didn't want to do, so I grudgingly smiled and wished the marshal good morning. I realised if I was going to abandon my quitting-plan, I was going to have to finish the whole damn thing, and so from mile 20, I tried every possible thing to keep going. For me, this meant taking the piss out of the marshals. I started to laugh at them because from mile 20, every single marshal (every 50 metres or so) would cheerfully say "Keep Going! Nor Far Now!" and I would laugh bitterly and say "Oh yes, there's LOTS of 'far' left!", or something like that. We plodded unhappily along, stopping every now and again in a bus shelter or something, and swearing. A lot. :) Personally, I was quite impressed with some of the profanities we were coming out with, lmao!!

My Garmin watch battery died just after 22 miles. I was remarkably jealous of it, getting to give up like that. But around this point I realised I wasn't anywhere near so completely exhausted as I had been... I was just desperate to be done. (In the map below, the 'missing 4 miles' is basically getting from the red stop sign to the green start sign, via Holyrood Park again but thankfully not up Arthurs Seat... Flat for a wee bit, a nice bit of downhill, then a small steady incline to the finish.)

At mile 23, we were back in Holyrood Park, and shortly afterwards I was surprised to see Morag, a colleague of mine, volunteering as a marshal at a road crossing, so I got a hug and cheerful boost. She'd been the stranger who stepped up and offered to walk with me 3 years ago, when I was left on my own after my friend Tor got injured beforehand - Morag had finished the whole thing, after I dropped out at mile 8, and we've stayed in touch sporadically ever since. She knew what finishing this damn fucking bloody thing really meant to me, I think. I plastered a smile on, and made pleasant conversation despite being in such incredible pain and just wanting the whole thing to be over, but it really was good to see her. We then had a small hill to climb, out of Holyrood Park, and onwards we went.

Just before mile 25, something changed. Tamara and I knew we had a short way to go, but at the trudging pace we were doing, it would take something like 25 to 30 minutes or so to get to the finish line. At a reasonable pace, though, only about 18 mins, maybe. I jokingly pointed out someone walking REALLY slowly just up ahead of us, and said to Tamara "What would Davie say about that? - You can TOTALLY take her. Let's do it." - our friend Davie is somewhat, errrr, enthusiastic at times, lmao.

Out of nowhere, Tamara suddenly grinned, and picked up the pace. I sped up alongside her, and we passed by the woman, and a second just ahead. Tamara then pointed out a small group of 6 people just up ahead, and claimed them as our next target, and we went for it. In less than 800m we'd overtaken 26 people, and were only 500m or so from the finish. I'm still not really sure how we did it... I'm so massively proud of us both, mind, for finding whatever strength, or madness, it was that we found in these closing stages.

My workfriend Elaine appeared at that point - she'd been following my progress on facebook (until my phone battery died) and felt bad about lying in bed, haha, so she'd got dressed and walked up to meet me. Sooooo sweet. She took a photo of us by the 26 mile marker, then wished us best for the last straight. She was a welcome boost, and Tamara and I powered on to the finish line. It was 9:45am, 9 hours and 40 minutes after we'd started. The place was pretty deserted with no hanger-arounds, and very few volunteers still there; I think we were near the back of the pack, and I can't help but think had I done more training, been fitter and a couple of stone lighter, I should have been able to match the 4 hour first half with a 4 hour second, but hey, I made it round! I did it!!

I claimed my medal, gave Tamara a hug, got a quick photo taken, then walked slowly off to find my car. (I was soooo grateful to have brought the car, which I only did because of the rain!! The 1 mile walk home would have been torture.) Home, exhausted, everything hurting, I peeled my socks off and was somewhat disgusted by the wet, wrinkled, dirty feet underneath. I tried to wash them, and burst the blisters that had formed - then I ate half a cheese sandwich, and passed out on my bed for the next three or four hours.

Never. Ever. Again.

But I fucking did it. I walked a marathon. Can't even begin to tell you how proud of myself I was - and, on reading this report back, still am.

But never again. Never. Again. Y'hear that, Tamara? Tor? I'm not moving on this. :) Don't you DARE let me change my mind. ...you know, I hear it's a different route this year... and there's a 52.4 mile version....... (hahahahahahahaha)