Loz Dace Blog

Here I sit, two days before the Flora London Marathon - 48 hours before the day I’ve been building up to for the last six months.

Weeks of injury-free training are behind me, some intense, some excruciating, some simply humiliating (namely collapsing in tears on the drive just as the neighbouring family come out the house en mass!).

Sod’s Law though, at the eleventh hour I’ve pulled my knee ligament.

Not so badly that I can’t run, but bad enough so that the physio has booked me in for three mornings of treatment in a row and given me a shopping list as long as my arm of ointments, gels and sprays that I’ll need to apply before the run.

To be frank, the injury is a right pain in the neck, all the preparation and the hope of a good time in my first marathon and now a painful injury that puts even finishing in doubt.

Should I be surprised though? Most definitely not, this is merely just another twist on the rollercoaster journey of doing a marathon.

And at the end of the day it’s these that make the whole achievement the wonderful experience that it is, the challenge that it is. If you want to do something relaxing, take up golf!

I must be honest, when I first signed up for the marathon I didn’t know what I was getting myself in for. I knew it would be tough and I knew it would hurt, but what I hadn’t anticipated was the sheer commitment needed, and you need it by the boat load!

A couple of mates and I had a friend from school that severely hurt his spine in a terrible rugby injury last year, and so the choice of charity was easy.

ASPIRE specialise in spinal injuries and support people from the initial injury right through to personal independence.

From my first phone call with them I could tell they were a fantastic charity, the enthusiasm that they had for their cause and the welcome they gave us once we joined the team were brilliant.

Indeed when you’ve promised yourself to help that kind of group, that alone can carry you through any pain the 20th and 21st mile can give you.

We’ve been lucky too, justgiving.com websites are so easily accessible and people have been so generous to the cause that the fundraising has pretty much sorted itself, with a few texts and e-mails to help things along the way.

And so once we were signed up, there we were. A rainy October evening in Lenton, and three of us kitted out in old trainers, football shorts and t-shirts embarked on our first run, a cheeky three-miler to get the ball rolling.

It did not take long before we realised two things. Firstly, we were hugely unfit (one member threw up, another gave up), and secondly our gear was awful.

Next day, straight to the Running shop, new trainers, new vests and something called a pedometer, though still not very sure what it does now…but as they say, start as you mean to go on.

And that was the beginning, the distance slowly began to rise. Eight miles, 10 miles, 12 miles. Eventually we were getting into big numbers, I found out the unpleasant way that you cannot do 14 miles after a 21st Birthday party (note to self: do not drink night before marathon).

Eventually we reached the key 20 mile distance, this distance is the most you should do before the marathon itself. Apparently, so ‘they’ tell me, if you can do this then adrenaline on the big day carries you through the last 6.2 miles.

Well I tell you what, ‘they’ must have the adrenaline of an enraged bull because the way I felt toward the end of those eighteen miles is as close to Hell as I ever wish to venture.

The parts of my legs that I could feel burned, and the parts that had gone past this into complete numbness I feared as to whether I’d ever get feeling back.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, sweat pouring off my head, the only thing pulling me through the pain was Meatloaf telling me what he’d do for love on my Ipod drowning out reality.

Still I made it back (followed by said collapse in front of neighbours) and lay there thinking how on earth am I going to get through 26?!

Well now its moment of truth time, it supposed to be one of the best days of your life. Electric atmosphere, huge support, great crowds and all that jazz.

But in truth, after how I’ve felt already, if I make the finishing line and I’m still on two feet, you can take away the crowd, the noise, the music and I’ll still be the happiest guy alive. I’ll have faced the challenge, and I’ll have beaten it. Here’s to everyone in the same boat.

Fingers crossed we all make it!