50 Shades of Sweat...

As Dr Griffiths pulled it out my mouth after what can only be described as a four minute gag-fest, I hurriedly wiped my mouth and asked him if everyone reacted in such a way... "Not everyone", he smirked, "it's usually the younger ones that find breathing with a full mouth difficult..." He allowed me a few moments to get my breath back and I suddenly felt very vulnerable.....

HAHAHA sorry, of course I am talking about my 'stomach biopsy', and not anything else that anyone else may have been thinking of. Naughty Dr Griffiths. No no, yesterday I was put through the pain of having a camera shoved down my throat to try and solve my eating problems once and for all. Despite asking for a numbing spray, none was given (I have a feeling that they forgot...) and I was subject to 10 minutes of extreme pain and the feeling of being continuously sick. It reminded me a lot of one drunken moment in a toilet cubicle at uni, ahhhh the memories.

Knowing there was a 1 mile relay on at Eastville Park yesterday evening, I was determined not to miss out and had the whole afternoon off work to recover from the pounding I received from Dr Griffith. I was very flattered to get messages from a few fellows runners asking if I was running, so OF COURSE I had to make an appearance - can't let down the team now can I?!?

A nap on the sofa and a lot of sympathy from my dad (who has probably stopped reading this already) meant I was welllll up for a good time. I'd never done a mile race before so either way I'd get a PB, aka I could brag and be really smug and my friends would send me cute well done texts (Rosa, Mott, Simone - you are always babes). I was paired (tripled) up with Hen and Tracy, two of my favourite running ladies who - handily - are both speed demons. I put my journalism degree to good use and came up with the innovative team name of 'Best Buddies', whateverrrrrr everyone's got to start somewhere haven't they?!? To avoid running against my mother, I was put in the first leg, followed by Tracy second leg and Hen third. A quick trip to the loo and we were PUMPEDDDD. And I really wanted a medal and was hoping for wine (no wine, but free ice cream, chuffed).

The dream team...

Lining up for the 7.15pm start I noticed there was a distinct lack of women and a lotttt of men who looked a lot faster than me (and not like they'd had anything shoved in their mouth that morning). In my head I was just like YOLO - my dad was there so I knew he'd be cheering me on in the classic Steve Jolliffe BOOOOOMING VOICE so really, I was already winning. Also I didn't want to let my team down, these 'fun' relays are not actually fun; they are extremely competitive and I didn't want Tracy and Hen to resent me forever when I crawled in at last place, having picked up my free ice cream on the way round. No wayyyyy.

The gun went and I have to admit, I suddenly turned into a hybrid of a pitbull terrier and some sort of steam-roller. I was all over the place - it reminded me of a particularly cocky moment in year 8 when I elbowed three girls off the track because, well, they weren't very fast anyway. I was a very twatty 13 year old... I nearly knocked a fellow Bristol runner into a tree (sorry, Jane!) and clearly thought I was doing the 100m sprint. Definitely new to this distance hahaha... Such an amateur. Luckily the first bit was downhill so I kind of flopped down it, ran past mum ("NOT TOO FAST EM" - helpful in a race, calls herself an athlete) and concentrated on not thinking about my stomach being full of air (cheers Doc). By the time I'd looked at my watch I was going back up the other side of the hill and was starting to wish I'd listened to mum... But it was on 4 mins 30 so I just told myself to push push push, ignore that back sweat and WELL even if I do really shit I bet no one else was crying on a hospital bed this morning so I don't care. The twattiness has never really left me...

Entirely different race but there we go...

I got to the last 300m before the finish, where Tracy was waiting to take over from me. As I rounded the last corner I heard the trusty 'GO ON EMMMMM' from my dad so put in a bit of sprint (although 'running in treacle' came to mind) and slapped Tracy's hand like a good'un - my watch said 6.40 and we were in third!

Unfortunately the course wasn't great for spectating so I didn't get to see much of my team during their legs, but as seasoned athletes I was sure that no one would overtake them. Already dreaming of our third place glory, I told Hen to 'DO A SPRINT' (literally the most annoying thing to ever hear when you are blowing out of your arse hahah, I'm so sorry Hen) and of coooourse we ended in a blaze of glory as third ladies team. Obviously the running mums did one better and got silver, with Jane in their team as well - thank god she survived the steamrolling start line, and we all got medals, tshirts and ice cream. OH and I got to tell people about my traumatic and innuendo-filled morning at the hospital, which made me sound like suuuuch a trooper.

Mum, Sarah and Jane

Another good evening race put on by Sri Chinmoy (again, what a man) and although I am a competitive little shit, there were actually people there who run genuinely for the enjoyment and obviously the social side of it is wonderful. Sounding so soppy, but the people at running are SO lovely - it makes giving up my evenings for my quest of glory a lot easier.

We won the championship!! Bristol and West AC

Well, well, well...

A week of no running... I survived! And although I've told anyone who would listen that I've 'put on half a stone', I'm not actually sure how accurate that is and probably haven't changed too much (although I saw a photo of myself earlier and nearly vommed, maybe I'll share it later...). Also after chatting to Alison, who's had 9 months off running with a bad knee, I realised I was being a 'tad' dramatic...

I was quite happy to see the back of the bike and get back to slapping my feet one in-front of the other. The nurse who took my stitches out told me to wait until after the weekend to run, so obviously I went straight to the track on the Thursday night. Rebel without a cause.......... Not much to report except I was the ONLY one at the track so felt like one of those properrrrr good athletes that get their own coaches. Alas, I was still plodding but kept insisting to Dave that I'd been "injured". He wasn't having any of it and told me to get on with it. No diva behaviour on Dave's (bleeping) watch.

Despite not running for a while, and having a weekend of football and alcohol (LAAAAAD) planned, I decided to enter a 5k race on the Tuesday evening. According to mum it was 'run by the buddhas' - very un-politically correct there mother! It was part of the Sri Chinmoy series; he's a world-famous Indian spiritualist, NOT a buddha. But for some reason he was holding a race in Eastville Park in Bristol so thanks for the opportunity, Sri!!! (sorry, Sri, genuinely thanks, you sound lovely). 

I think we can all agree how lovely Sri looks

After surviving one of the top 5 hangovers of my entire drinking career on Sunday, I wasn't feeling too spritely come Tuesday. But I was determined to at least show my face and get my ever-present thighs round the three-lap course. Mum and Sarah were racing in Filton, Dad was playing cricket and my appointed bag-holder (Simone) was stuck in traffic. As you can imagine, this total lack of support (only joking) left me feeling extremely zen and not at all worried about who would look after my car keys. Luckily, everyone accommodates my needs so Mum and Sarah dropped me at Eastville, both looking quite emotional at the thought of abandoning me at a race and without the usual bellowing that keeps me going on the final stretch...

Thankfully there were a lot of friendly faces also racing that night so I tagged along, and the lovely Nicola looked after my car keys, leaving me completely freeeeee to attempt any sort of PB. Or at least get some good material for this blog... Hmmm, priorities. 

Me and my 'support team'

The race was quite straight-forward, just three laps round the park with an added 200m finish to make up the 5km. As always, my big head got too excited at the start and after about 3 minutes I was resenting the day I'd ever started running. There was a slight downhill on one side of the park, which was vaaaanderful. Well, it was alright when you compare it to the 'slight uphill' on the other side. I am telling you now, this uphill was not slight. It was one of those hills that you don't even need to change gear in when you're driving, but OH OH OH when you have to run up it, the old hamstrings are telling a different story. 

Bristol and West out in force - well done everyone!!!

Anyway after the dramatics of the first lap, the 'fast group' that I'd attempted to tag along with had well and truly pulled away. I wasn't really sure what was going on behind me but I couldn't hear anyone breathing, so assumed I was on my own. Poor, baby Emma. Abandoned by her parents and peers and then abandoned by all other runners mid-race. OOOHHH it was me against the watch. I felt like I was in a documentary; me against the world. I ran with a Bristol and West male runner for the last lap and a half (he must've caught up with me, my stumpy legs were literally running out of steam) and I managed to cling onto him for a while. *All of my non-running friends, I wasn't actually clinging onto his back, that's strictly for nights out - it's just a running term innittttt.

Desperately trying to be a 'fast one'

The marshalls at Eastville 5k were so encouraging, with one of them even shouting at me to 'hang on in there!' - thanks, I think. Chief photographer Andy was also running all over the place, somehow able to concentrate on his camera and also getting everyone's names correct when he cheered them on! The last hill was a real killer, and I even walked because I'm a massive wimp. It was only for 5 seconds though and then I called myself a 'twat' and ran my little/big bum off for the last 400 metres. I was definitely gaining on two men at the end (haha, sorry but it's true) and finished in 23.35. Not a PB, but considering I'd done the first lap in 8.20 I was pretty pleased that I managed to pick it up.

Funny how happy this made me, really...

OH AND ALSO... the top 7 finishers from each gender group (male and female - not sure why I felt I had to explain that) got medals. It's a random number but hey, if Sri wants the top seven ladies to be rewarded then that's what Sri gets. Somehow I managed to sneak into the medal crew and was seventh!!! The six other ladies were way ahead and far superior to me (Tracy, I'm looking at you!) but I was pleased nonetheless. First ever running medal that isn't from a charity race. A very sad but very true statistic and I wore my medal all the way home. 

YAYYY (mirrored things are hard to take photos of)

As a final point, I'd just like to note that races like this are really good because its not mega-serious and everyone is well friendly. More often than not, you end up running with the same people the whole way round and it's always nice to have a little joke with your new running buddy at the end, even if its to say 'HA, JUST GOT YOU AT THE LINE'. No hugging, obviously due to sweat reasons, but nothing wrong with a little high-five to celebrate our legs functioning properly. YAY RUNNING.

Oh... As a final, final point... I'd like to draw everyone's attention to this photo, mainly so everyone can laugh WITH me and not AT me...

Lets discuss...

Firstly, okay so I'm looking pretty knackered - as I should be - but what the HELL is that thigh?! I'm not blowing my own trumpet here but they usually don't wobble in such a dramatic fashion, and I think this is bad timing from my skin. We'll call it 'relaxed muscle movement', or something.
Secondly, my shrinking boobs have never really bothered me but WHAT it just looks like I have a thinning sausage attached to my chest. Very disappointed with my sports bra, I'm sure it promises a 'supportive yet stylish' look. Ain't nothin' stylist 'bout a sausage chest.
Thirdly my posture is terrible and I knew that already.
Fourthly (?) my hair looks ridiculous but WOOOO I must've been swishing it around like an absolute diva. So lets focus on that. 


Thanks again to Andy Butterfly for all the photos in this post - except the dodgy medal ones. Excellent job, and I hope my weird thigh didn't offend your lens!