Sophie Raworth's Blog by Sophie_Raworth

I got home from work last week to find a parcel from the Virgin London Marathon. I ripped it open, suddenly convinced that I'd been successful in the ballot for a place next year. Inside I found a red running top and a magazine with the words 'commiserations!' emblazoned in yellow capitals across the front. I was surprised by how disappointed I suddenly felt. On the day of the Royal Wedding back in April, when I received an email from the New York Marathon organisers, I stood in the media compound by Buckingham Palace and actually shouted out in relief when I heard that I didn't have a place to run in the race there next month. This time it was different. I have unfinished business with the London Marathon.

But my disappointment didn't last long. I arrived at work the next day to find an email from St. John Ambulance. They'd read on Twitter that I'd been unsuccessful in the ballot. "We would love to offer you a place to run for us", they said. Given they picked me up off the floor and got me back on my feet in April, it was an offer I clearly could not refuse. In fact, I was thrilled. It'll be my thank you to Trish and the team of volunteers who looked after me so well at mile 24 and it's the perfect incentive to keep me training through those long winter months. My mother, though, is appalled by the idea. She thinks I am mad and is already dreading the stress of marathon day next year.

But having run it once, I think I will deal with the distance much better next time. I put myself under far too much pressure to do well, ignored the heat of the day and literally ran myself into the ground. When I was feeling dreadful and was clearly suffering, I should have walked for a bit and taken on more water. But my pride stopped me. Next time I will do it differently. So here we go again on the emotional roller coaster of marathon training. I've got a little warm up this weekend in the shape of the Royal Parks Half Marathon in London and then I'll just keep the running ticking over until Christmas.

The big push starts for real on 1st January (though I may have to shift that by a day!) and ends sixteen weeks later in the Mall. When I told a colleague I was doing the marathon again - this time for St. John Ambulance - he laughed out loud. "What? On a stretcher?" he cried. Let's hope not! But one thing's for sure, if I get into trouble again next time round, at least I will know that I am in very good hands.

Three days after the Great North Run and I am still on a high. It must be all those endorphins. I was far more nervous on the day than I thought I would be. I hadn’t run further than 10 miles since the Virgin London Marathon and wasn’t entirely sure how my body would hold up this time. I kept telling everyone I just wanted to get round without any dramas but of course, truthfully, I was desperate to do a good time. After messing up the marathon in April, I really wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. We arrived at the start line with an hour and a half to go, greeted by the wonderful sight of 54,000 people getting ready for the world’s biggest half marathon.

The lovely Sue Barker was with us at the start line and promised she’d wait for me to finish this time – however long it took! We set off at quite a pace and I spent the first few miles trying to slow down, without much success. I made it to the five mile mark before being overtaken by a banana. The crowds were fantastic – handing out jelly babies, oranges and even beer near the end. The weather was perfect – sunny but not too warm and even a shower for the last 2 miles, just when we were tackling the final big hill. My mother had insisted I wore my heart monitor this time (she’s not overly convinced by all this running since the marathon!) so I did as I was told and found it surprisingly reassuring.

At around 9 miles, I saw Superman, gritted my teeth and overtook him. From then on I felt like I was flying. But irritatingly one man I failed to overtake was my husband. Despite telling me days before the race that he’d pulled a muscle playing squash and didn’t think he would be able to keep up with me, I just couldn’t shake him off. As we neared the finish line, I dug in and sprinted for the end, thinking that after years of trailing after him this would finally be my moment. But he and his strained muscle stayed with me and we both crossed the line in exactly the same time – 1 hour 51 minutes and 17 seconds.

My moment of almost glory was all broadcast live on the BBC but it caused some confusion with family back at home. ‘There’s Sophie crossing the finish line with her husband’ Steve Cram told viewers watching on TV. But the man caught on camera wasn’t in fact my husband. He had decided to avoid the TV cameras and cross the line further away! The man sprinting to the finish with me was Ken – my ‘minder’ who’d spurred me on for 13.1 miles. ‘I saw you cross the finish line with Sophie’ my mother-in-law told my husband when she phoned later. ‘You do look rather different on TV’.

I’m back! Almost six months after my rather eventful attempt at the London Marathon, I’m preparing to pull my trainers back on again and head up to Newcastle for the Great North Run on Sunday. It’ll be the first time that I have run a race since I collapsed from heat exhaustion at mile 24 in April. This time I am hoping to get to the end without a visit to St John Ambulance along the way. I can’t quite work out how I feel about running a race again after my experience in the marathon. After all the training I did earlier this year, I’m fairly confident I can run 13 miles without too many problems. But I will probably wear my heart monitor this time just for reassurance. One of the last things I remember before I blacked out on the Embankment was the fact that my heart was racing very fast. I thought I’d just hit that ‘wall’ that everyone warns you about. Instead I hit the floor.

A few months later, I was reunited with Trish, the wonderful and very reassuring volunteer from St. John Ambulance, who stayed with me for more than 2 hours after I’d blacked out. She told me they’d been pretty worried at first. Having since seen my medical records, I can understand why. About 20 minutes after I’d collapsed, I was still out for the count and my temperature was 41.2C (106F). But after plenty of oxygen, ice and endless cups of sugary tea, Trish got me back on my feet again and I was able to finish the race. Clearly I will be doing everything I can though to avoid a repeat of that drama this Sunday. It took me a while to get back to running again after the marathon. I couldn’t walk without pain for 3 weeks and I lost five toenails (which wasn’t a good summer look). But over the past few months, I have been building it up again, running 3 or 4 times a week and really enjoying it once more.

Apart from finishing the Great North Run on Sunday, I only have one real goal. I’m not after a personal best, nor will I try to beat my husband (that’s what got me into trouble in the marathon in the first place...a stupid bet that involved beating his fastest marathon time!) No, the one thing I want to do at the end of the race is see Sue Barker who’ll be presenting the BBC’s coverage that day. When I met her at the start line of the Virgin London Marathon in April, I told her how I’d been obsessing about seeing her face as I crossed the finish line in the Mall. In my head I knew that once I saw her it would all be over. Well as it turned out, she’d packed up and gone home by the time I crossed the line (6 hours and 22 minutes later)! So as long as I see Sue at the finish line in South Shields on Sunday, I know it will all have been alright.

www.justgiving.com/sophieraworthGNR

Well I finished, though not quite in the way I was expecting! I set off with everyone else at 9.45am, determined to do a 4 hour marathon. It was an amazing sight as thousands and thousands of runners from three different starting points all converged together on the route. My friend Charlie decided (sensibly in hindsight!) that she was going to run at her own pace and not try to keep up with me. So I ran alongside Matthew Pinsent for a mile or two, before forcing myself to slow down and stick to my marathon pace of 9 minute miles. I saw friends from work at mile 5, my goddaughter and her wonderful banner at mile 8 and I made it to Tower Bridge, the halfway point, in 2 hours. But even in those early stages, I found it much harder than normal. It was just so hot and there was no breeze or shade at all.

Having trained all through the winter in the rain and cold, I just wasn’t prepared for the heat. I had water at every station, I took my running gels every 45 minutes but by 18 miles I was really starting to struggle. I was so determined to do a good time that I just kept pushing myself forward. I got to 22 miles in 3 hours 25 minutes. I remember going through mile 23, feeling very lightheaded and aware that my heart was beating fast. The next thing I recall is waking up with a jolt on my side, unable to move. I was wearing an oxygen mask and someone was pouring water over me. I heard a woman ask if I knew where I was. I had absolutely no idea. In fact I thought I was at pop concert in Leeds at first for some bizarre reason. I could hear people cheering nearby but couldn’t work out what the noise was.

I remember telling the woman I had 3 children and I kept asking her over and over again if I was going to be ok, if I was going to make it. I had no idea what day it was, why I was there, who I was with. I got through a whole canister of oxygen before random details started coming back to me. I don’t remember any of this at all, but apparently I collapsed on the course and was carried unconscious to a nearby St. John’s Ambulance bay. My body had completely overheated and my temperature had soared to almost 43C. The amazing people there stuffed my clothes full of icepacks to cool me down. It’s the first time I have ever blacked out and it was the scariest moment of my life.

But after a couple of hours and 3 wonderful cups of sugar-filled tea, my temperature was back to normal and I was finally able to stand up again. I couldn’t bear the idea of being so close to the finish and yet not finishing after all the money I’ve been sponsored. So I just thought ‘bugger it! I am going to walk to the end’. The doctors didn’t look terribly convinced by my plan and had me under strict instructions to sit down the moment I felt dizzy. So I set off walking and continued for about a mile. Then pride got the better of me and I decided to finish as I’d started – running! My poor family who’d been waiting hours, unaware of what was going on, were still there at the end.

So too was Patrick, the husband of our friend who died last summer. I have never been so happy to see them all. There were no tears at the end, as I’d expected. In fact I couldn’t stop smiling. I was just so relieved to be there. I was handed my marathon medal which I have to say I am incredibly proud of now. It may have taken me 6 hours and 22 minutes in the end, but I did it and I’ve now raised £14,000 for Cancer Research which somehow makes it all worthwhile. I can safely say that the London 2011 Virgin Marathon is an event I will never forget!