I run my first marathon in November 2015 in Charlotte. Without a lot of thinking I signed myself in at the end of September. I intensified my practice a bit and thought it will work out somehow and yes it did and it was a unique experience But I was persuaded that I will never do it again…

Last December I signed up for my second marathon in Liverpool, end of May 2019. Don’t ask me way, I had time to practice and I was in the mood to accept this challenge again. Because I wasn’t as greenly anymore I started with proper marathon training beginning of January following a plan. I had some reluctance with doing exactly what mentioned in this plan, sometimes because of family commitments, sometimes because of the weather and mostly because of my mood. Nevertheless I managed to fit in more than 500 miles and worked on my pace and practiced to run with tiered legs and I did a couple of long runs, 17 miles an up. Not to forget the Cambridege Half Marathon beginning of March. I felt pretty well prepared.

I compared once doing a marathon with a pregnancy: first you’re really excited when you signed yourself in and also during the first weeks of your training, then it starts to get annoying when you have to juggle everything around your practice and you’re feeling guilty if you didn’t make enough miles or worse even skipped a day. Finally you can’t wait until the big day with all its strain and pain is here, only to have it over… and after crossing the finish line the happiness is overwhelming and you forget all the effort and privation.

Two weeks before the big day my thumb had an incident with a handle axe and I needed to visit a doctor. I will spare you the details because I still get collywobbles from thinking of it. Instead of easy tapering runs during the last to weeks I got the order to rest. Me and resting is like counting the waves… I managed to do it for one and a half day before I decided to start with my rehabilitation. I went for a seven mile power walk and the next day I started with my tapering runs like planned. It went better than expected, finger crossed that my thumb will be fine until next Sunday.

Finally the big day was here and we traveled up to Liverpool on Saturday. My husband, my daughter and my niece accompanied me, all Liverpool fans and all three hoping that I will take my time during the race so that they have enough time to visit Anfield stadium. Unfortunately it took us eight instead of the excepted three and a half hour to get there due to a road closure on M6 caused by an accident. Yep, now I have enough excuses if it won’t work out…

The race started at Albert Dock, brought us up to the football corner (Everton and Anfield Stadium), through Mathew Street back to the Docks, through Chinatown up to Sefton Park down to the River Promenade and there at mile 22 the wind hit us and the last 4 miles were really awful with heavy legs against headwind isn’t funny!!

Like many other marathon runners, during the race I swore I’d never put myself through that pain again. I like to have the freedom again to go running because I like to go and not because I have to. But of course, you know secretly in the back of your mind that you will sign up again. Because it is slightly addictive, that feeling of euphoria and great accomplishment.

Liverpool has nice and not as nice parts, if you like FC Liverpool and the Beatles it’s worth a visit. And best thing, I still have my trainers…