LazyGirl lent me Murakami’s What I talk about when I talk about running and I found it pretty dull. Jogging a bit, blah, listening to Jazz, blah blah, thinking about my race times, Zzzz. I didn’t run at the time and imagined my own jogging thoughts would be “When can I stop/When can I stop/Great, I’ve stopped.”

Having just completed my first half marathon, my early impressions were not far wrong, although I have a far more respectful view of running than I once did.

I was at the GreatEastern Run in Peterborough with a posse of seasoned runners and the conditions were perfect. Bright sky, not too cold or windy and a crowd of jolly people exuding goodwill and cheer.

My crew comprised of Jonthebrick, who had played rugby the day before (and had drank seven pints to celebrate), and was hoping for around 1.45, SportyGirl wanted to come under two and LazyGirl herself was using it as a training run before the Venice marathon and was going to cruise in around 1.50.
About four months ago when I began running this obsession with times was incomprehensible to me. I just wanted to get round the park and the thought of doing a half marathon was as likely as Piers Morgan being a decent human being.
But as I completed a couple of races (a 10k and 5k Parkrun) I began to understand that times were what most people talked about when they talked about running.
In terms of the half, I told people I wanted to finish under 2.10 as my training runs indicated I should be capable of 2.05. But I really wanted to go under two.
The race began. My crew had shoved me in with them at the 1.45 marker and it took about three minutes to get across the line. By that time we had separated and I was on my own.
I jabbed the GPS app on my phone (cyclemeter) and got my legs moving. The app was set to tell me my pace and time every mile. The first mile took us through Peterborough city centre, which is prettier than you might imagine and then headed out to the suburbs.
After the initial crush the field spread out nicely and I began to think about the miles ahead. My plan was to go steady until nine or 10 and then put my foot down if I needed to. Things didn’t go to plan. The first three miles were OK at around 9.10, I was feeling good and was looking forward to seeing some supportive friends at six miles in. Then the automated pace voice chirped in at five miles: I was doing 9.20 and, at six, 9.25. I was going too slow. Plus, there was no sign of those supporters.
I felt tired and was worried if I put my foot down I would blow up before the finish – my longest ever run had only been 10 miles after all. But I really wanted to get under two hours. I started running harder. 
The Peterborough course is curvy in parts (one of the fastest women fell on a corner) but there is also some lovely long straight roads. And it’s pretty much pancake flat.
My times started to get better. 8.40 at eight miles, 8.45 at nine and a high five from my friends on the sideline spurred me on to 8.07 at mile 10. Then it got tough. I swerved into a water station and grabbed a drink. I am not sure what Murakami would have been thinking about at this point, but all I wanted to hear was my headphones calling out 11 miles.

The voice arrived at last and then I was only aware of my pounding feet and the grey road ahead. It then got a bit confusing as I saw a sign saying ‘3km’ (I think from the earlier fun run), but I had not hit 12 miles. I wanted it all to stop then and around me I heard people urging each other on.

I kept pushing on and the field narrowed down as we began to enter the park. I turned a corner and suddenly I was on the home straight, I saw the time at 1.59 and gave what I had left to get through the finish line under two hours.
My final time was 1.56.31 which I was really pleased with. The feeling of elation I had at finishing is still lingering nearly a week later.
I would highly recommend the Great Eastern Run. It was really well organised and supported. Big thanks to LazyGirl who wrote my training plan and just maybe I will give that book another try.