The perfect start can lead to the perfect finish!

The past 6 months has be full of personal challenges for me. I started this food blog in an effort to not only finally get some of my recipes written down but to also get to know my camera a little better along with improving my post processing skills. Then came the next big challenge, 5 years ago I competed in the Rome marathon and I have always wanted to do another before I hit the big 40. One small problem with that is life has a way of throwing up road blocks whilst you are busy making plans. After Rome I married my beautiful girlfriend of 12 years, shortly after that she became pregnant with my wonderful son and let’s face it who wants to train for a marathon with a new born at home. Then my next big set back came in the form of an incompetent driver ploughing into me on my bicycle. Next thing I know I am being rushed to hospital with a dislocated sternum, a separated collar bone and two broken ribs. Just as I started to recover I then started and al consuming job meaning I was working upward of 70 hours a week.

Finally at the end of last year I felt like I had all of my ducks in a row so to speak. Work had settled down, my son was old enough that I could spare the time to train and most importantly my health was back on the mend. Then the seed was planted when we were visiting a family member in the south of France who had just signed up for the Paris marathon. My brain started to work overtime, could I fit in the training, could I persuade my wife that it was a good idea, could I get the time off work and most importantly was I fit enough. Only one way to find out, I started dropping hints to my wife about how nice it would be to visit Paris and how we could make a trip of it and then go and see her family after, and look the marathon is on at the time we are going to visit. It would be a shame to go and not compete. So that was it, the wife had given her approval, then I just had to get the holidays booked off, that was no real issue but next came the hard one, fitting in the training. I still had work to worry about, that meant I would not get home till after 10 at night most nights and my wife would be leaving for work at 7:30 in the morning, this left a very tight window of opportunity for training so 5:00 am starts it was if I were to get the miles in. The training went well and ended with a 36km run 2 weeks before. Then disaster struck, 10 day before the race my son came down with a temperature and I spent 4 hour sitting in a walk-in centre surrounded by a hundred kids all coughing there little lungs out. The next day I could hardly breath or get out of bed and thoughts of me completing a marathon were fading fast. I overloaded on vitamins, paracetamol and just about any other cure I could get my hands on. Now with only 3 days to go I donned my running shoes and stepped out into the cold morning air and started to run. Starting slowly at first then gaining confidence I managed 10km with minimal amount of coughing and spluttering, race day was back on.

We had made it to Paris, picked up my bib number all that was left was to run the thing. One problem, no one had warned my of the impending heat wave on race day. Having done all of my training at maximum temperatures of just 3c to open my curtains to bright sunshine and a forecast of 22c it was the one thing that I could not have prepared for. I set about starting my race day routine with a nutritional breakfast of yoghurt, stewed rhubarb and ginger with muesli. Then made my way across Paris to the Champs-Elysees to join the throngs of excited runners eagerly awaiting the start of the 42km race. I joined the warm up are along with Elvis, spider-man and a giant pink turkey. As we made our way to the start line the tension in the air was almost overwhelming. After a 10 second countdown we where off. The organisation was amazing, a route through the heart of Paris, past every major tourist attraction and off into the forests that neighbours the beautiful city. The only problem was the heat. It must have been topping 22c and a sun was relentless. By kilometre 16 I was starting to suffer and by km22 thoughts of quitting were sneaking into the back of my mind, I was in a world of pain, overheating, stomach cramps and sweating like nobody’s business. The local firemen where a god send hosing us all off and helping to keep the heat at bay. I knew my wife and son were waiting to cheer me on at km29 in front of the Eiffel Tower. I had a decision to make, get to my wife and stop and let down her, my son and all of the people that had sent me so many motivational messages at the start of the race , or dig deeper than I ever had and find the strength to keep going and Finish the last 13km of the race. I saw the excitement on my sons face as I rounded the corner waiting for a high five and a hug. I kissed my wife and told her I might be a little longer than planned. I digged deep and ran off in the direction of the finish line. The next water station was just 1km away and I knew that I was in good company with my pain as I saw the whole marathon grind to a halt to get water and struggle to get going again.

At this stage I had found a rhythm that was working for me, run as long as I could before cramp would start in one of my aching limbs then walk until the pain past. I kept this routine going until before you knew it I was up to km40. I knew that at km41 my photo would be automatically uploaded to Facebook so felt determined to run over that mile marker. The only thing was some sadistic maniac had put it on the biggest hill you had ever seen, ok it might have only been a slight incline but after 41km it might have we’ll have been Everest. Only 1.2km to go and I was will the view of the finish line closer and closer. With 900m to go cramp struck again and brought me to a stop, I got a tap on my shoulder from another runner and a friendly smile pushed me forward chanting “allez, allez”. I jogged on at as slow a pace as I have ever run with pain shooting though every muscle in my body and the cheer of the crowds pulling me forward. I staggered across the line, I had done it 42.195km. Against all the odds I had made it, I had not given up. As I walked through the finish area I looked up all the faces of people that had finished as well. Each one take its own story of the battle they had faced to make it to the finish line. I collected my medal and made my way to meet my wife, grateful that it was all over. Yet my first words to her were “what are your thought on Berlin”.

Thank you Paris it was amazing.

#fruit #compot