Run 10: Glynneath 5 Mile (Fun Run)

Saturday, 26th December 2015 (11:00am)

Christmas Day is a day of excess; presents, food, chocolate, sweets, wine, mince pies, beer, more wine, turkey, and regrets. The day often ends slightly comatose on the sofa with some routine Christmas telly on the go.

Boxing Day is a day of either recovery from the day before or further excess. It's certainly not the day for running. Or so I thought.

I signed up to the Glynneath 5 because I wanted to do a run over the festive period, I didn't want to stray too far from home and it was the easiest one to fit in to my schedule.

Feeling fresh and festive!

As the run wasn't quite 10 kilometres, I looked at it as a fun run of sorts and made sure to acquire a Santa costume to complete the run in. Upon arriving at the registration HQ for the event I quickly realised that I was the only one who had opted for fancy dress. Appearances from a number of different running clubs suggested that this was an event people took quite seriously.


After getting my race number and making my way to the starting line, I handed my coat to my brother (who very kindly sacrificed a lie-in on boxing day to drive me to Glynneath) and started my warm-ups. A lone Santa amongst lycra-clad running pros attracted quite a bit of attention and one of the organisers applauded my efforts and very vaguely promised a trophy at the awards ceremony after the race (which unfortunately I didn't have time to stay for - so no trophy!).





The thing that struck me the most about this run was the community spirit of it. As an annual event, it is obviously very cherished by the community and lots of people knew each other and wanted to improve upon previous years times. In fact, the event was almost an advert for running clubs. They were everywhere, and everyone was having a great time. If my life weren't so fluid I'd love to join a running club but that's a story for a different time.

The run itself was flat and the scenery not as inspiring as other parts of Glynneath but it was a good run and it showed me that I was a little out of shape (or that running with a hot, sweaty, fuzzy Santa costume is out of my comfort zone).

Close to the end (Images courtesy of Glynneath 5's facebook account)

Everyone on the track (it was a 2.5 mile road run and then back) was very encouraging shouting inspired things like "Go on Santa" and "Now you've emptied your sack, you can do it!"

My average for a 10km is around 45 minutes.
My time for this 8km was 43:01 - rather disappointing in fact, but in my defense - IT WAS A FUN RUN! And it was, I had a great time, and I would really recommend this run.

Run 9: Odaiba Friendly Run (10km)

Saturday, 8th November 2015 (10:00am)

The 5th International Friendly Run took place in Odaiba, Tokyo, and as seems the case with Japanese races was a selection of either a 5km, 10km or 20km race. I opted for the 10km, simply because the 5km was not long enough and the 20km was 1km short of a half marathon. Given the dismal rain, I almost regret not choosing to run 5km.

A dismal day for running

The Statue of Liberty with my friend Paul

Odaiba is an artificial island constructed in Tokyo Bay, originally intended as a defensive fortress in the 19th century, which was later desired to be transformed in to a shining beacon of Japan's uber-technological and economic prowess when Japan's economy seemed like it would be unstoppable. Now, the island is home to shopping malls, theme-parks, and a replica statue of liberty.

The intention of the "International Friendly Run" was for foreigners and Japanese people to come together to become united with a common purpose. I think the run was designed with embassy staff in mind, or army people who had been stationed in Japan for a while. Either way, there was a very fun atmosphere, despite the rain. While queuing up to get my race number, I bumped in to lots of people from lots of different countries. The group that stuck out the most was a party of about 5 or 6 Canadian ladies, looking good in their 30s, all sporting bright red t-shirts proudly saying "Powered by Maple Syrup." They were loud and boisterous in all the best ways, encouraging others and shouting support to people they passed.

Standing at the start line and chatting to them, we had little chance to sync running apps and timekeeping devices as the gun fired with no prior countdown or announcement. We were on our way then it seemed. Fortunately, the race itself was chipped so there was no real need for accurate running time apps.

Soaking wet but happy to have finished.

The course itself was two laps, following parts of a promenade along the soggy beach (sand imported from China.) There were no elevations at all and it was all on paving, yet the dismal rain, which alternated between showering and hammering down, seemed to hinder my running somewhat. After one lap, braving looking at my phone in-between spells of rain, I noticed my time was 25 minutes. Unless I picked up the pace, this would result in a time of 50 minutes.

Well, to cut a long story short, because the only exciting things to happen in the run were my saying hello to the excitable group of Canadian women when passing them in between laps and my waving to the leader of the 10km group (a man dressed in a gold bodysuit), I ended up finishing with a time of 49 minutes and 19 seconds, very far from my best efforts.

To make matters more depressing, I found out afterwards that I had finished 4th in my age bracket and that to have finished in the top 3 would have yielded an award of sorts. Given that my time was 3 minutes longer than my usual, I'm certain had it not been raining and had I pushed myself hard, I may have finished in the top 3. This is something that will have to be rectified by adding a fourth run to my Japanese repertoire.

Run 8: Imperial Palace 10km

Saturday, 17th October 2015 (1:30pm)

For my second run in Japan, I was very excited. There were two reasons for this; first, I knew exactly where I would be going and the route I'd be running. Second, it was only 10km. Whenever I say that last part to people, they laugh and think I'm being arrogant. The me last year would have punched the me saying that now. 10km is a lot but after a half-marathon, it's a welcome respite. It also gives me the chance to really throw myself in to the running and push myself, where half-marathons' goals become just finishing the race.

The Emperor of Japan is in there somewhere...

The Imperial Palace run was perhaps the smallest race I have done so far (a close tie with the Wimbledon Common run) and made to seem even smaller by the fact that out of the small hundreds of participants, we were separated by four different runs; 5km, 10km, 15km and 20km.

The Imperial Palace is surrounded by gardens, walls, archaic-looking gates and a path that measures around 5km long. As such, each race's route merely differed by the number of laps the runner needed to do. I needed to do 2.

As an English teacher from a rather small English-speaking country (Wales), I feel a certain pride in displaying a big Welsh flag in my classroom. For this run, I thought it'd be a great idea to step up the costume from the diabetes wig by using the flag as a cape. Dressing up in bizarre costumes is usually common-place for Japanese cosplayers, but less so on the running scene. I attracted a lot of awestruck gazing and one Spanish fellow shouted "Scotland, Scotland!" at me. Though I didn't catch whether he was actually from Catalonia, he did introduce himself and talk at length (get it?) about ultra-marathons. He was incredibly athletic and wore a one-piece running vest that reminded me of that Simpsons clip.

Who's that strange Welsh guy in the wig?

After a group photo, we got ready for the four different waves; 20km went first, followed by 15km and then at 1:30 I got ready for my 10km.

I started well, overtaking most of the people who were there just for a little jog around the palace. One guy at the front was absolutely blitzing it so I decided not to bother trying to match his pace. Another guy in a blue shirt passed me quite early on and I decided he would be my target for the race.


I had been unable to do much training for this race but I felt good. Pushing myself to follow the guy in blue meant that I kept up a decent pace.

The Imperial Palace is a very popular walking and running spot for tourists and Japanese people alike. As a result of this and the four simultaneous races taking place around the grounds, there were a large number of runners. Everyone I passed, I checked out what colour bib they had so that I could determine how far in front I was.

Quite confident that it was just blitz-runner and blue-runner ahead of me, I convinced myself I was in third. More than likely though there was someone else ahead and being behind blue-runner, I was actually in fourth. There were prizes for the top 3, so I would have to come within that zone. There weren't many people in the 10k so it was certainly possible. I just had to beat blue-runner.

Conquering my first lap

Shortly after the first lap, blue-runner went off to the side to wave to his wife. I took this lull in his concentration to overtake him. I smiled encouragingly as I overtook him. From there he kept good pace with me but at the 7km mark I decided enough was enough and with 3rd place firmly in mind I pushed myself to run faster so that I could secure myself a prize.

At around 8km, Spanish Ned Flanders lapped me shouting words of encouragement. I grunted back at him.

As there were no timing chips, I kept a close eye on my phone timer towards the final kilometre. I was on a pretty good time, on track to do just under 47 minutes.

I finished at 46:20 and discovered to my horror that were many people already finished from the 10km. My dreams of 3rd place had been in vain. On the plus side though, two very good Australian friends, who were in Tokyo for a wedding, were waiting at the finish line to congratulate me and receive my incredibly sweaty embrace.




After the race I became something of a small celebrity as a group of Japanese lads, fervently practising their English before-hand, asked if they could have a photo with me (and my crazy wig and patriotic flag-cape). Shortly after this, I was approached by some Indian tourists who were in Tokyo for a naval exhibition.

Proudly showing off the colours of Wales with a random Indian Naval officer

Sadly no extra donations came but I did get to talk to people about why I was running; to raise awareness of diabetes and to help show people that pushing yourself to do a little extra can make a big difference.

Run 7: Arakawa Half Marathon

Sunday, 4th October 2015 (10:30am)

As this was my first run in the land of the Rising Sun and my first outside Europe, I came prepared to the run with a plethora of screenshots on my phone detailing exactly where I had to go, the route, my race number and everything that would be required of me to get the run off without a problem.

The site of many a sport

The race venue was just over an hour from where I was staying and three different metro lines away. Tokyo's railway system can be confusing as different lines are owned by different companies but when you get used to it, navigating isn't too scary. Fortunately, today was a good day as I arrived at my designated station with no problems at all.

Peace and quiet in the foreground, busy Tokyo in the background.

It is very typical of Japanese people to sleep on the train during their morning commute (and their commute home). I almost never do this (mainly because I never get a seat!) On my first leg of the train route I snoozed in and out. Not a very promising start!

The station in question was Higashi-Ojima, and it was a very short walk from here to an incredibly peaceful sports fields/riverside community area. The sun was shining and my walk through the park was incredibly. Old men were grouped together on one field, shooting paper aeroplanes in to the air and watching them glide around. Families were setting up barbecues and picnic areas. Joggers were gearing up for the run, and adorable akitas and other breeds of puppies were being walked.

Short and sweet. Japanese efficiency in action.

With my screenshots and very basic Japanese in hand, I nervously approached the race-pack collection tent. Western names in Japan are translated in to katakana, while Japanese names are written in kanji. The race staff had a list of names and as soon as they saw me and I said my name, they knew to look at one of the very very few katakana names on their list.

So, race number pinned to my top, shoe laces tied and checked, stretches done, I donned my Diabetes wig and got ready for the start of the race. Very few people seemed to look or care about my strange gaijin get-up. Perhaps, being Japanese, they'd seen people wearing stranger things or perhaps they were politely trying not to stare.

Blissfully unaware that a blue-wigged gaijin was waiting behind them.

I have very little to say about the race. It was baking hot (somewhere close to 28°) so I was sweating even before I started running. Given the heat I wasn't prepared to run to beat any Personal Best I have so went in with the mentality that I would just finish the race and do so under 2 hours. The course was a series of 4 laps along a promenade where kids and adults played baseball (Japan's favourite sport) and bicycles whizzed past. Every stretch of a lap was 2.5km and each side had a water station. I stopped and re-hydrated at every water stop - I did not want to be that ignorant Westerner who died of heat stroke during a run he wasn't prepared for.

All types of people were on the run, from all ages and shapes and sizes. It seemed a very inclusive run and had a very good spirit about it. For most of the run I was in my own little headspace, just wanting to finish and though I picked up my pace towards the end, it was an average of 5:30 per km. Lacking a big, bright finish line, two Japanese ladies held a strip of ribbon between them and runners were encouraged to run through it with their arms stretched upwards in salute of their victory.

Celebrating with my instantly printed certificate!

In true Japanese style of efficiency, immediately after completing the race I was presented with my certificate that congratulated me on my finish time, a cool 1:55:02

Invisible Illness Awareness Week

Today marks the end of Invisible Illness Week.

I have shared a lot about my running experiences but very little about my experience with diabetes. I do not have diabetes. Hopefully, I will never get it, but some members of my family do. They live normal, happy lives and are very rarely hindered by the disease (or so I am led to believe). Even being so close to the disease, I cannot fathom how it feels for them to have to live with the disease. What seems, from the outside, an easy ritual of injecting insulin daily is something I would never wish to endure, and something I would never wish on anyone. Yet, both my brother and my mother go through this every day. This is something I see as a close relative but something not many others see. From all outside viewpoints, they both live normal lives.

I cannot remember when I knew that my mother had diabetes. I cannot remember if I was ever "told". Certainly I don't remember being sat down and told about the disease. Just as she learnt to live with it, I never questioned it.

Hypoglycemic attacks can be very common for those suffering from diabetes. They occur as a result of low blood sugar. Throughout my life, there have been a number of times when my mother or my brother have suffered an attack due to very low blood sugar and myself or another family member have had to help restore the blood sugar to a normal level. This can be a very scary experience as the attack results in a kind of delirious state that makes it hard to communicate with the person and also difficult to cooperate with in order to restore the blood sugar to a normal level. At times, I feel frustrated with my brother when he has a hypoglycemic attack. I often blame him for not being careful with his diet and eating, but sometimes it is easy to forget that he has an invisible illness that was not brought on by anything in particular. It just happened, and he has had to deal with it, and I can imagine if I had had Type-1 diabetes, it would not be easy for me to deal with.

The first memory I have of witnessing a hypoglycemic attack was when I was 11. I was acting in a musical play, Oliver, at a stage show group somewhere I can barely remember. I made some new friends there and I was very excited to be part of the production. My mother, very patiently, drove me 30 minutes to the rehearsal every night. She was very encouraging. One night, as we were leaving, she asked me if I could pop to the bar (I guess we were rehearsing in a social club type place) and get some chocolate peanuts. I thought the request very strange indeed. They did not have any. I thought no more of it.

Shortly after, on the drive home, my mum started to act "weird". She was swerving while she was driving and acting, well...drunk. For a boy with no experience of drink driving or hypoglycemia, I was terrified. I had no idea what was going on. It continued for a while down some small streets before the busier roads. She would drive a bit, and stop. One time when she did stop, I ran out of the car and knocked on the door of one of the houses of the street. The old woman reluctantly let me use her phone (remember this was before mobile phones!) to call the police - why I called the police I do not know, I think perhaps my dad had taken my brothers to play football and I had no idea who else to call.

To cut a short story even shorter, the police arrived, kindly took us home, and were very understanding. The old woman irritably asked why of all doors I had knocked on hers and I politely informed her it was because she had been peeking through the curtains (presumably to see why a car had been stopping and starting outside) so I knew there was someone in. Though eternally grateful for her help, perhaps it taught her to be less nosy in the future.

From then on, I had a much better understanding of diabetes the disease, and my mum, the diabetes sufferer.

The point of this is that diabetes is an invisible illness. Nobody can see what the sufferers go through behind closed doors. There are no obvious symptoms from the every day observer. If you suffer from diabetes, talk about it. There is no stigma associated to having a disease. It is not your fault. If you have another illness, do not be afraid to share what it is you must endure.

Diabetes is not the only "invisible illness". For a much more eloquent take on what it means to be the sufferer of a disease that does not physically manifest itself, check out this incredible blog post: 

WHAT DO A THEORETICAL PHYSICIST, AN OLYMPIC ATHLETE AND AN ACTOR ALL HAVE IN COMMON?

Run 4：Cardiff 10km

Sunday, 6th September 2015 (10:00am)

The Cardiff 10km was a home-comfort. Only an hour away from my local Swansea, I got up at a reasonable time and caught the hour-long train to our nation's capital.

I was a little overwhelmed when I got there. I underestimated how popular it was going to be. As it was celebrating its 30th year, I shouldn't have been too surprised. Over 4000 competitors crossed the finish line and there were undoubtedly more still with spectators, officials, etc.

The base camp was large with a number of charities on show; Diabetes UK among them.

There were more people here than this photo does justice to. You should've seen the toilet queue!

It seemed to me however, that the base camp was not large enough. With thousands of people teeming around the camp, there were massive queues for portaloos and a steadily moving line for the bag-drop. In all the time it took to prep, I didn't get the chance to meet up with the Diabetes team before the race. This time there were a very large number of people who were wearing the silly hat that I'd been solo-ing for the first few runs.

At the starting line I bumped in to an old colleague and we did some catching up, did some stretching, and talked about running times. He was trying to get back in to running and was essentially training for the Cardiff Half Marathon. His time was not too far below my own. I kept this in mind and we both went under the mentality that we would say farewell at the start and run at our own pace.

It took 5 minutes to get from here to the start line once the starting gun went off!

Once the race kicked off, I noticed that my former colleague was storming ahead, while I was barely keeping up, weaving in and out of the throng that always accompanies the beginning of a popular race. In fact, for the first 3 or 4 kilometres, I found myself struggling to keep up and I'm very grateful (in hindsight) that he unknowingly pushed me during those first few kilometres to keep up with him.

The story goes like the others, as I pushed on I began to realise that I had been running quite a good time and to continue to do so could mean I'd beat my PB, or at least come close.

In Bute Park, at about 6km, I started to experience stomach cramps. It is very infrequently that I'll feel pain at running and truth be told I don't often push myself too hard. I ran at a pace I know I can maintain. However, I wanted to get a good time so I really pushed myself hard. I panted and puffed and grunted and ran. Eventually, the stomach pain subsided though this wasn't until about the 9km mark.

Happy and sweaty!

As I approached the finish line, I noticed that the clock had 51 minutes on it. I had remembered crossing the start line after 5 minutes, or I thought I had. Pushing myself that much harder had confused me, so though I was certain I hadn't beaten my PB, I knew I had done well - I just wasn't sure how well.

The run, despite the physical pain, really was a very good course. Flat and scenic, it seems like it could be a good run (were someone in peak shape) to beat a PB.


After the run, I asked a random stranger to take my picture at the finish line and the lady I asked turned out to be the daughter of the regional fundraising manager for Diabetes UK. This led me to meet all sorts of people associated with the charity and chat about what I'm doing, how they got involved and really learn about people who are doing amazing things for the charity.

Though I am but a small cog in a big machine, it's gratifying to know that I'm doing my part to help and that every little bit makes a difference.

Run 3: Severn Bridge Half Marathon

Sunday, 30th August 2015 (09:00am)

Unfortunately he didn't run in this gear...

I will begin this account with complete honesty; I felt entirely unprepared for the first Half Marathon of the campaign and I was genuinely a little worried about what shape I'd be in when I completed it. I had done some training, but owing to a lack of time and a busy schedule, I felt I hadn't quite done enough.

Given that the event was in Chepstow and it started at 9am, I left Swansea at just after 6am - to be sure I'd have time to pick up my race bib, get to the start and be totally prepared. It turns out I was there with more than enough time before the start (a running theme now).

Silly wig? Check!

This particular event was incredibly well organised - as most half marathons tend to be - and had two very large car parks dedicated to its runners. The number of people competing in this event was something just over 2700.

Free lucozade sports were given out (incredibly useful for mid-course hydration) at the event village and there was a really good atmosphere.

The walk from the event village to the start of the race (halfway along the majestic Old Severn Bridge) was about 15 minutes and the course outline promised that towards the end (the 7 mile point) there would be a rather steep hill.

I haven't seen this many people on one bridge since the Lisbon Half Marathon

The course itself was very enjoyable. Crossing the Severn Bridge was windy but offered stunning views over the river Severn and of the backs of the mad scramble of people ahead. After crossing, bilingual signs welcomed us to England where the majority of the run took us around sleepy villages, filled with welcoming and encouraging people who had come out to support.

The organisers of the race had a great sense of humour, from the witty pre-race emails to the signage on the course that at every slight incline warned "This is not the hill" and "this is not the hill either." When the hill eventually came, it was a lot steeper than I anticipated. Neverthless, I ran up every inch of it, having to dodge the walkers who weren't considerate enough to stick to one side.

Halfway through the race, after passing the 7 mile mark, three thoughts hit me;
1. How on earth will I be able to do a marathon; TWICE the distance I'm about to do?
2. How many miles in a kilometre? I know there are roughly 22km in this half marathon, but are there 13 miles in this race? 11? How many miles do I have left?!?!
3. This is amazing. I am running a half marathon and I am not dead.

The answer to the second question was of course 13, and returning to Wales over the Severn Bridge was absolutely elating. One man remarked that the bridge "seemed shorter at the start of the race" and I contemplated using his joke with another runner later on but just pushed myself onwards towards the finish line; dreams of finishing the race with a good time firmly in my sweaty wig-covered head.

At the last 50 metres, I often sprint flat-out to get the best time possible. In the past two runs, I've not really done this. Here, inspired by another runner who had the same idea, I ran as fast as my chunky little legs could carry me and crossed the finish line at just under 1 hour 52 minutes.

Sweaty and happy with my third, and chunkiest, medal so far!

The chip time would later tell me that I had completed the half marathon in 1 hour, 50 minutes and 20 seconds. I discovered a few days later that this time was only one minute slower than my all-time personal best for a half marathon. I firmly believe I can make up that minute in my next half marathon; the Bristol Half Marathon on September 13th. Only time will tell...

Total money raised: £853.90

When nature calls, don't stop running!

Just before my second race, I messaged a friend to complain about an absolute travesty; I needed a pre-run pee, the toilets cost 20p and there was quite a large queue. To paraphrase, my friend's advice was "If you do a Paula Radcliffe, I will disassociate myself with you."

I remembered reading about other Paula Radcliffe-esque moments a while ago and thought that in fact, it takes a very brave person indeed to stop mid-way through a run, have a little poo or pee, and keep on going. I thought I'd compile a very short list to highlight the hilarious bravery of runners in history who have managed this feat that would be seen me completely cut off from my friend.

These stories are ranked in no particular order.

1. Paula Radcliffe - London Marathon 2005

Let it go...

Perhaps the most famous of these examples, and the inspiration for this particular post.

Currently the World Record holder for the fastest women running a Marathon with 2:15:25 (almost faster than my best Half Marathon time) victory set in 2002 in Chicago, Paula Radcliffe caused waves in 2004 when she dropped out of the Marathon at the Athens Olympic Games due to "stomach problems." She had been heavily tipped to win gold.

She responded the following year by vowing to wow at the 2005 London Marathon, and she certainly made the headlines - for all the wrong reasons. 21 miles in to the marathon, Paula stopped and went to the side. Everyone watching through their TVs at home were worried that she had succumbed to the same stomach pains that had ailed her the previous year and was about to drop out. Fortunately, she was just stopping for a quick pee and continued on shortly afterwards. She later blamed the incident on eating too much salmon and gluten-free pasta in her pre-run meal.

Incredibly, she ran on to secure first place (beating second place by five entire minutes) and, despite her pee break, beat the world record for the third best marathon time for women. 

2. Grete Waitz - NYC & London Marathons (dates unknown)

Grete Waitz, from Norway, ran her first marathon in 1978, the New York City marathon. She won with a time of 2:32:30 (then a world record) and accumulated a total 9 NYC marathon wins, as well as a host of other accolades.

She famously battled incontinence during the London marathon as well as the New York City marathon and wrote in her book "Run Your First Marathon" the following graphic non-apologetic description of her troubles;

"One of my most dramatic race stories is also my most awkward. I was in the lead of the
London Marathon when I got an attack of diarrhea... in my mind there was no question: I had
to keep running, despite the shock of onlookers and worse, the television cameras broadcasting
the event to millions of people. It was not a pleasant experience, but winning was.”

Not surprisingly, she won that marathon, and many others, and is said to have inspired Paula Radcliffe - in terms of running, not pooing!

3. Michael Ekvall - Goteburg Half Marathon 2008

The struggle is real...

This image has not only caused amusement to many but it has also spawned a number of memes and demotivational posters. This is the iconic image of young Swedish runner (he was 19 at the time) Michael Ekvall, pushing himself to finish as quick as he could in the Goteburg Half Marathon. Sources aren't clear on what exactly happened - though it's quite clear from the many pictures that are available - but what we do know is that Michael didn't want to stop as it would affect his time. In a post-run interview he was asked if he had considered stopping to have his poo. His response was unashamedly honest;

"No, I'd lose time. If you quit once, it's easy to do it again
 and again and again. It becomes a habit."

He came 21st in that half marathon, with a time of 1:09:43 (not far off my 10km times) and went on to set a Swedish national record at the Copenhagen 2014 half-marathon.

---------------------------------------------------

The lesson to be learnt here is this; if you want to succeed in running and be the best, don't be afraid to have a mid-run poo or pee. It obviously works for some of the greats. However, it works in favour of your public image if you take a few minutes before the run to get your shit sorted.

Run 2: Hyde Park 10km

Sunday, 23rd August 2015 (09:00am)

Owing to a birthday part the previous night, I adopted the tried and tested method of getting the bus to London at 2am and sleeping en route. I groggily arrived at Hyde Park, collected my race number/chip and changed in to my running gear.

Once again my camera does not do Hyde Park any justice at all.

Chilling before the race

What struck me about this event was that it was a little less organised than the previous one. Though it didn't take long to find the camp that had been set up, the start/finish line was a little lacklustre. An elderly gentleman got the crowd fired up through a rather rubbish megaphone that only a few people were actually able to hear. Nonetheless, his welcome to those runners who were new and his appreciation of all the different charities being represented was a nice warmup to the event.

"Middle-aged man" mentioned later is the bald guy in this photo!

Having already written this blog post, lost it, been unable to find it again, and having recently started it again, I'm rather reluctant to write everything I wrote last time (mainly because I can't remember) but the main thing I would like to write about is the inspiring story of a middle-aged man who caught up to me mid-run to congratulate me on my cause.

Owing to the milestone of collecting more than £200 for my second run, I donned the Diabetes UK wig made famous in the South Wales Evening Post article that inspired people to ask "Why were you wearing pants on your head?" This wig made my cause instantly recognisable as I was actually the only one in fancy dress.

This is a wig - not a pair of pants!

My "fancy dress" allowed people to see quite clearly the cause for which I was running. Due to my lack of sleep and general fatigue, I started the run quite slowly. This allowed for something that I rarely have time or lung capacity for; it allowed me to have a chat. Afore-mentioned middle-aged man caught up to me at around 3-4km and told me how he heartily approved of my choice of charity. The man had recently been diagnosed with Type-2 diabetes and had turned to running to try and control it. He told me that through running he had managed to lose 6 stone and it had really had a positive effect on being able to control his diabetes. We talked about the different runs he and I both had planned, and being motivated by his story, I bade him farewell and pressed onwards with my run. After all, I would only do this run once, I might as well get a good time.

At the halfway point, I saw the clock just about tick over to 25:00. This meant if I pushed myself I would be able to beat last week's time of 50:04. Familiar with the course, which lacked any kind of inclines, I pushed onwards and felt even more motivated when, inspired by my diabetes wig-hat-thing, a woman whooped "Go Diabetes!" at me (it could've been worded better...).

Happy with my second medal

My final time was a quite impressive 48 minutes and 14 seconds, 4 minutes off my personal best.

Total money raised: £643.32

Run 1: BHF Greenwich Park Run

Saturday, 15th August 2015 (10:30am)

My first run of the campaign took place in an area of London I'm quite fond of; Greenwich. I'd been there a number of times the previous year, principally to see Monty Python reunite at the O2 arena. I had never, however, been to Greenwich Park.

The logistics of my travelling to London were a little complex. In order to save money, I had decided to travel up on Friday, stay with a friend for free, do the run on Saturday morning and then return that afternoon. Due to a miscommunication with dates, I was unable to stay with my friend and didn't fancy forking out for a hotel. As such, I left Swansea on the National Express at 2am, changed at Heathrow at 7am, and arrived in London Victoria at 8am. After a number of tube connections, I arrived in Greenwich with plenty of time to spare at 9ish.

My camera skills didn't do justice to the spectacular views over London

Set up and ready; just needs runners!

Greenwich Park was easy to find, and it really was quite lovely. The park was bigger than I expected, and it took a little longer than I anticipated to find "the Bandstand" where BHF had set up their bold red camp, ready for the race.

I wasn't the only one running!

At this point I should mention that I was operating on very little sleep (I got about 3 hours on the bus) but I was very pumped to be there and doing my first run.

I arrived about an hour before the run was due to kick off. There were lots of volunteers on hand but very few runners. I was worried. I took the time to talk to some of the volunteers and scope out the event; there were no running chips but there was a running clock - I made a note of this so I would be able to record my time later. They were giving out race t-shirts and I dutifully went to pick one up but purposefully didn't wear it for two reasons; firstly, I wanted to stand out in the inevitable sea of red t-shirts, and secondly, I wasn't even raising money for the British Heart Foundation and didn't want to seem false. In my defense, I have participated in and raised money for BHF events in the past and it is a charity that has a special place in my heart (pardon the pun) but for me the focus is very much on Diabetes at the moment.

A hearty bit of face-painting

The lack of people, the lack of sleep and the solo DJ-esque figure on the microphone trying to get a non-existent crowd pumped up was a little disheartening. Although I wasn't wearing a red BHF t-shirt, I decided to participate in some way and after donating some spare coins to the charity, I volunteered to have my face-painted with some lovely little hearts.

These hearts later merged with my sweat to create a stain of blood face-paint along the side of my face. Whilst on the tube returning home, a concerned stranger asked if I was ok, pointing out the obvious bloodstains on my face.


At 09:45, the 1k fun-run kicked off. The future Mo Farahs and Usain Bolts of the world set off from the start line for a little stretch around the block. One particularly adorable youngster looked as if he had only just started walking, let alone running.

At 10:15, all the runners were called to the Bandstand, where the previously-mentioned DJ-guy was still trying to get everyone pumped up. This is where the real magic happened. What had previously been a small handful of people quite quickly turned in to a really large collection of people, all with their own different reasons for running. We were given a few generic speeches and then introduced to two young boys (around 4 and 6) whose grandfather had suffered heart problems his entire life. In voices trembling with excitement, authority and nerves, they thanked us for running, told us to have fun and filled mostly everyone's face with a smile. Then their grandfather came to thank the BHF, and us, the fundraisers (me guiltily lowering my gaze), for enabling him to live long enough, despite his heart conditions, so that he could see his children, and grandchildren, grow up around him.

A few more people this time; now it's a race!

Then it was off to the start line to wait for the 10 second countdown and begin. My usual race strategy is to start somewhere in middle, or towards the back. The reason for this is because I push myself to overtake people and I feel better when I do, so having people in front who I can soon overtake is incredibly motivating.

As I crossed the start line, I noted the time 00:00:24. As there were no timing chips, I would need to remember to take 24 seconds off my final time.

The beginning of the race was, much like most races, a scramble to weave through the slow runners and find the runners of the same pace. This continued for the first kilometre or two until we got to the first hill. I must admit that I was rather unprepared for this first hill, as were a large number of people. I simply didn't expect it. Some people just didn't abide it, and started walking. This was my first boost of motivation, passing a throng of people on the first hill, before 2km.

The route was well laid-out, with distance markers every kilometre, adequate signposts and ample number of volunteers. Over the course, spectators shouted encouragement and clapped. Just before the fourth kilometre mark was another hill. Again, I passed a few older people on this hill and this gave me confidence. My mood was soured when on a number of corner-turns, I noticed a girl ahead of me cutting the corners.

After 5km, it was one more lap of the same circuit on the road to 10km. I noticed, as I passed the start line, that the clock was at just over 25 minutes. I would need to pick up the pace if I wanted a sub-50m time. The rest of the 5km was routine; I slowly overtook people on the first hill, was overtaken by a large number of people on one straight, but caught up with them at the next straight. As I reached the last hill, and the last 2km, I had two goals; overtake the guy in the bright yellow t-shirt and that bitch who kept cutting corners. I overtook the guy on the last hill, and heard his howls of rage fading in to the distance behind me (actually, he was panting a lot from the difficulty of the hill). After cresting the hill, I saw her. Gracefully running in front of me, she leapt care-free over the grass, forgetting entirely about the path and the route marker. I scowled as I ran dutifully around the marker points. I found it hard to slowly make up the distance between us and then she did it again. By this point I was livid and there was less than one kilometre to go.

00:50:28 on the clock!

My tactic is usually to save a sprint for the last kilometre or two, but here I was out of energy. In the last 500m, telling myself I must beat this girl who has no respect for the rules of the running route, I pushed myself and, with a cocky grin on my face, overtook her, sprinting through to the finish-line.

I hastily took a really bad quality picture of the clock as I crossed the finish line, noting that my time was 50 minutes and 28 seconds. Taking my 24-second delayed start off the clock left me with a rather disappointing 50:04 (5 seconds slower than what I would have liked!)

Overall, the first run was very positive. The sun was shining, the atmosphere was great, the scenery was beautiful, and the time really wasn't terrible. The course itself was a little hilly, with some winding routes. There was just enough variety to make it challenging and fun without it being difficult.

By the end of the day, the total raised was £89.32, which was unfortunately a little short of the £100 target I had anticipated.

Total money raised: £89.32