Well I will run 26 miles (and I will run no more)

Me: Nairobi, Kenya

Him: Nairobi, Kenya

Distance: 26 miles / 42 kilometres

This morning I completed the biggest physical and emotional challenge of my life so far: a full marathon. Throughout the race I stared at the sponsor's slogan emblazoned on the back of the t-shirts of the runners in front of me - 'Run for a Reason'. As I hit the 30km mark and was seriously wondering how I was going to manage to put one foot in front of another for another whole 12km, I re-thought how I would do today's blog post. I started to compile a list of 42 reasons in my head NOT to run, ably supported by every part of my struggling body, mind, and soul.

However, I did manage to get round the course in spite of a knee injury, and now I have been fed and have a glass of wine, I am going to go back to the more cheery version of the post I had initially envisaged. Rather than describe every ache and pain incurred (happy to do this on request), I thought I would put together 26 running stories from over the years. One per mile for the run this morning. Some of these stories are from training for today. Others are from training for other events.

So, in no particular order...

1. While running in a small town in Tanzania a few years ago, I was given what was either a very unsubtle chat-up line or an anatomy lesson. Happily running through the bustling market place I am suddenly accosted by a young man who shouts at me 'YOU HAVE VAGINA!'

2. This handy reminder of my anatomy is an outlier what is normally shouted at me while I'm running in East Africa. These can fall broadly into two categories: pity and mild levels of sexual interest (I suppose the vagina line could fall into this). In the former, this is typically 'pole, mama' (translation = sorry, mama) with a shake of their head to express how sorry they are that I am putting myself through pain. In the latter, depending how serious their intentions, it can go from anything from a 'babyyyyyyy' to a full-blown proposal.

3. Something I have learnt on my training runs in Africa is that there is nothing more funny than jogging alongside a runner while making sure your friends are paying sufficient attention (giggling at the least, but preferably filming these antics with a smart phone). This is true for very small children in rural villages, but far greater hilarity is achieved if the follower is a young man. This bridges nicely to 'babyyyyyy's and full-blown proposals. Although in my experience their stamina is weak and they give up after about 200m.

4. None of this is really true when training in the UK, although I did notice I received a lot more white van honks south of the river Thames than north. Maybe I'm just more attractive down south. (Which would be unfortunate, given I was always a NW girl).

5. Moving on from attention received from passersby, one of the main reasons I wanted to do this marathon was to keep fit while I was travelling. For this specific race I have trained in Nairobi (Kenya), Kitale (Kenya), Kampala (Uganda), Soroti (Uganda), Kinshasa (Democratic Republic of Congo), Bagamoyo (Tanzania), Dar es Salaam (Tanzania), Meesden (UK), San Francisco (US). There are probably other cities and countries I have forgotten, but you get the idea. You can't make excuses not to exercise if you know there is a marathon approaching!

6. During my training in my home city, Nairobi, I fell in love with Karura Forest. The forest is fairly central in the city and has a 5km loop, a 10km loop, and a 15km loop. The trails are a bit up and down (and very muddy during the rains), but the air is fresh, the scenery beautiful, and running companions are frequently wild monkeys.

7. I stayed with one of our board members while I was in San Francisco which somehow led me to be invited on a sunrise run on the Pacific coast. I was picked up by a runner and her dog at 5.30am, given a head-torch, and we headed to meet a few others on a trail. It was a spectacular way to start the weekend.

8. The following weekend I had to cancel my long training run due to the wildfires just outside San Francisco. Fires had been spreading for days, decimating homes and livelihoods, and the air was filled with ash. Everything and everyone stank of smoke and running was not an option.

9. Pollution was also a big problem in Kinshasa, although the bigger problem was not being able to go outside for security reasons. Fortunately the hotel I was staying at had a gym with treadmills overlooking a swimming pool and mango trees. Mid-run one morning I got a message from my colleague: 'Did you know we are supposed to be meeting with X organisation in 10 minutes?!' I have never got of the treadmill, into the shower, and dressed so quickly.

10. My least favourite training runs were in Tanzania. Due to the heat and humidity running at any time other than the crack of dawn is a huge mistake. I had planned to get up early on one Saturday to do a half-marathon, but somehow one glass of wine turned into several and I wasn't ready to run until midday. As a result I did the half-marathon on a treadmill. Absolutely soul-destroying.

11. I ran regularly when I lived in Tanzania. The most dramatic story of my running time there involves killer bees. This is a story I have told many times over the years, and is a great story now - even funny - but at the time I genuinely thought it might be the end of me. I was running along one of the busiest roads and felt what I realised afterwards was a sting between two of my fingers. Within moments I couldn't see anything, and all I really knew was that I was in pain and had to make it stop. I remember clearly my thinking changing from 'how will this end?' to 'is this the end?' as I ran, screaming, up and down the traffic and cars rolled up their windows instead of helped. I had never heard of killer bees as a phenomenon and did not realise that is what they were, but some basic instinct took over and I knew I had to get into water. A puddle on the side of the road was too shallow, so...

12. ... (this definitely deserves several stories!) I jumped into the open sewage ditch that run alongside many of the main roads in African cities. Just to be clear, it is not actually just sewage, but rather water that drains from... actually, probably best not to think to closely about its origin. The taxi drivers that had been running in the opposite direction came closer and shouted their encouragement, miming that I should submerge myself fully. One was particularly concerned that I held my iPod aloft as I did this, something that was fairly low on my priority list in this life/death situation but I remember doing anyway. Thank God the strategy worked and after a few brief moments I emerged from the sewage in all levels of pain and stinking to high heaven, but free from bees...

13. ...I wouldn't let the taxi drivers take me to hospital before we had picked up my then boyfriend/now husband from home. I rang the doorbell and told him in what I thought was a very succinct, rational manner exactly what had happened. He told me later I had been a gibbering wreck and he had assumed I had been pushed from the road into the sewage ditch by a car. I hadn't calmed down much when we arrived at the hospital. My hands had swollen to at least twice the size from the bee stings, but I had been stung far more on my head (I hadn't been able to see as they had been swarming around my head) and I was worried what was happening beneath the sewage and my hairline. This worry was not shared by the hospital receptionist who completely ignored me and continued her chat with the nurse. It wasn't until this moment that the shock subsided enough to realise we should just call my Mum, who is a doctor. Her advice was that if I wasn't dead from the bee stings now, I wasn't going to die but it would hurt like hell, and I should take a shower. I suspect it was worded better than that, but that was the general gist. That night I showered five times (and still smelt like sewage) and my then boyfriend/now husband (this story proves he was a keeper!) picked goodness knows how many dead bees from my hair.

14. To move to much happier training runs, I always love running when I visit my parents. They live in rural Hertfordshire, which if you have never had the good fortune to visit is basically the rolling hills and greenery featured on Ye Olde English calendars and chocolate boxes. On the morning of my wedding I asked Dad if we could go on a short run together. It was my perfect way to start the day and really special, which I recognise is probably fairly unusual for a bride!

15. A couple of years ago, I moved back to the UK for a year to study. Since I had left for Africa, Park Runs had really taken off in towns and cities across the UK. One of my classmates was also a runner and we regularly talked about going to the Saturday morning runs, although in practice I think we only made it twice (somehow the Friday night pub usually won). We did, however, both complete a half marathon that year, which, mid-dissertation was no mean feat.

16. I first started running during my first year at university. I can't really remember what spurred it on exactly - prior to that I had always done swimming - but I do remember what I was wearing. Entirely due to the fact I was hyper aware that I may bump into a boy that I had been 'seeing' on the staircase on the way out rather than it being an outfit of any particular note. (I didn't bump into him so he will forever have missed out seeing me in the black leggings/orange t-shirt combo I had selected).

17. I then continued to run, only every very short distances, throughout my time at uni. One of my housemates told me that exercise didn't count unless it was over half an hour, but as he was eating his body weight in mashed potatoes each day and starting to ever more resemble the Michelin man, I decided to ignore him. I then carried on running regular and short distances when I moved to London, starting several mornings a week with a couple of laps around Queen's Park. I loved these runs and being part of the frosts coming, the leaves turning, the Christmas tree arriving, the sun rising, the birdsong...

18. My first race was a 10km run in Cambridge. This must have been 6-7 years ago and I remember crossing the line at about 57minutes (a time I can comfortably do and regularly beat now) and swearing I would never, ever want to do this again. I am not quite sure how, but I remember being the level of physical and emotional pain being a pre-cursor to finishing the marathon, and something I have never felt in the several half-marathons I have done since. (Obviously I decided to ignore my post-10km self).

19. In one of my previous jobs I was responsible for organising triathlons in Hyde Park. Before going into the job interview I had to Google what a triathlon is, and the first year I felt a bit of a fraud as I dispensed wisdom from various fitness sites to the triathletes. Before the second year, therefore, I registered and took part in the London triathlon. I'm glad I did it but I have never been tempted since: the wetsuit/biking change and then biking/running change didn't really appeal!

20. I run because it gives me thinking space and not thinking space. If I have something difficult I need to mull over, I run. If I have had a difficult few days, I run. If I am frustrated with myself or others, I run. My husband knows that if I get too grumpy, it is best for all concerned if he sends me out on a run.

21. I also run because I am not good at it. I mean, I am fine at it. I know how to run and I am reasonably fit. But I am not a natural runner. And I think it is good for my to practice doing something I am not natural at, and to be OK with other people who can try less hard and do better. Because that is something I am not very good at doing generally. Generally I like to be the person that does better (I was going to say tries less hard as well, but anyone who knows me will know that is not true!).

22. For the marathon I created a 6 hour playlist. It is not one that I am proud of and spans several genres, from the sort of music you should probably only listen to if you are a 14-year old boy (e.g. Blink 182 and Fall Out Boy) to perky pop (e.g. Katy Perry and Bruno Mars) to music from generations past (e.g. Wham! and Abba). My husband is always spectacularly unimpressed when he borrows my iPod, but it does the trick for me.

23. Training for a marathon takes some serious time commitment. Now that it is over I am already thinking 'what next?' What will my next challenge be? Do I want to spend the same amount of time on a physical challenge, or dial this back and give more room for other challenges (e.g. finally getting round to learning French)? Given that I am currently walking like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, however, I think I can take a week off challenges and focus on learning to bend my legs again.

24. I have gone through two pairs of trainers in preparation for this race. I bought identical pairs when I was in San Francisco a few months ago at a dedicated running shop. There is nothing more satisfying than feeling the extra bounce under your feet from a new pair of trainers!

25. The Nairobi marathon was due to take place on October 29th, but was postponed by one month due to the elections. Unfortunately this meant an additional month training, and it is potentially this that caused my knee to buckle. By the time they announced the postponement I was already up to running at least a half marathon each weekend, so those few extra weeks added some significant mileage.

26. To end with a story of the marathon itself. The first half went reasonably well - I was around it in two hours and on track for my four and a half hour target. The second half - less so. While the first half had been around the city centre, the second half involved running up a closed motorway for 5km, back for 5km, and then repeating. It is almost impossible to put into words the tedium of running on concrete in a straight line, knowing that this is going to go on for quite a while, and not having anyone around apart from the odd runner you limp past or limps past you. My knee, which had started causing some problems a couple of weeks ago, was in continuous pain by the second half. Towards the end I had to walk for large chunks, and then the last four or five km walked entirely. To add to the general fun they had decided to re-open the roads an hour earlier than they had said they would, so cars were hurtling down the motorway with no concern as to the runners. I finally arrived at the finish line and promptly burst into tears on my husband. I had some sense of the physical challenge I was putting myself through, but no sense of how emotional I was going to find it.

However, I finished, and in spite of having to walk a significant amount of the last 10km, did it in five hours. I doubt I will ever do one again, and this will the only race medal I have that does not find its way into a charity shop/rubbish bin!