Petite Feet Runaway

Sister Sister start in Lindau Do you think I can train for a marathon in 10 weeks? Came the message from my small sister, Hillary. Of course I replied in the affirmative. What did I know, I've only ever trained for my first marathon and that was probably ten years ago. Plus, I'd always liked the idea of running her first marathon with her and I was up for another holiday. Hillary had picked the Three Lander Marathon; a marathon that started in Germany, ran through Austria, into Switzerland and then finished in Austria. That sounds pretty cool. Hillary flew from New York, we flew from the buzzing metropolis of the Scottish Borders. It was a good excuse to see each other and doesn't everyone think of Germany, Austria and Switzerland when they think of awesome exciting holidays? No? Let me remind you of those giant pretzels (bretzils?) then.  Buggies were not allowed in the marathon which meant Scott could not run. He looked disappointed to hear this news. I'm not

I entered the Marathon Hebrides (the first full marathon to be held on the Isle of Harris) while I was still pregnant. Obviously pregnant with my first baby and therefore had grand illusions of what motherhood would be like. I bought a treadmill so that I could train when my future baby 'napped.'  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, said my baby boy. At five months old, he doesn't nap and wakes up every 1-2 hours at night to feed (or cuddle, or just say hi, or something). We haven't even thought about weaning. Oops. Oh well, we'd booked the accommodation, ferry tickets, car hire and my ma to come babysit from New Zealand. My postpartum recovery was not as easy as I'd expected. Turns out running and swimming until the baby pops out aids neither labour nor recovery. Should have sat on my arse and eaten more cake. My training had to start with walk/jogging 1km at 8 week postpartum, a few weeks break as directed by the physio and then a pretty swift leap to 10km after 12 wee

When the superspeed duo of Ally and Norm sent through their list of 2018 marathon locations, Kiev seemed a no-brainer. I mean, who hasn't wanted to visit the Ukraine? I cannot remember if I was pregnant before or after entering but I clearly thought it would be fine regardless. Unfortunately, I didn't exactly glow during pregnancy and I dragged my feet out on two runs a week, one short and one long. Given that I wasn't particularly fit before pregnancy, building up those long runs felt pretty awful. On one occasion, Scott had to sprint home to get the car during a two mile run while I disposed of my stomach contents on the side of a country road.  On arrival, we paid some extra money at registration for some running travel insurance scam. I'm pretty sure that is what it was! Then I risked the life of my unborn child by taking a Ukrainian taxi through some back alleys. We went to dinner and there were guns on the walls. Some local youths then set the hotel bathrooms on

The Big Reveal W alking up Arthur's Seat in September 2017, I told Scott I had something to tell him. After initially freaking out and throwing himself off the hill, I calmed him down to share the news that I had entered the Boston Marathon for the following April. I was not guaranteed an entry but we would need to book a holiday if I was accepted. Having studied in Rhode Island during the winter, Scott was keen to return during the summer. Shoulder season is not summer, thereby ruining his holiday plans. Female qualification times are much more lenient than the men's qualification times. Despite this, as I have spent the last four years injured and unmotivated AND the Boston qualification times are reducing each year, I figured there were few years left whereby I would be able to gain the qualification without too much stress. So on that Saturday in September when I looked up the times I was pleased to find that I had qualified while running as the Roadrunner cartoon in L

Nessie on her home turf   For millions of years I have lurked peacefully in my home Loch of Ness. There was a brief period when my home was subjected to inspection from nosy tourists but they do not cause me too much bother. However, since 2002, there is one day a year when some non-swimming folk pound the ground next to my Loch of Ness. I poked my head up a few times to check out the action and fortunately no one spotted me. They were too busy staring at the neon shoes of the runner in front. There is quite a number of these folk. So, I have decided to give the event a go myself.    Today I have donned a kilt and Scottish bonnet in an attempt to fit in with the running creatures. I even stayed in accommodation with three older blokes and took a wheeled machine with the ordinary humans to the start line. The boys got quite the surprise when I walked out of the bedroom in the morning. Fortunately, my wheeled machine had a toilet but I must say that the entering of said mach