We did it!

That was probably the hardest thing I have done. Like everyone else I hope, I am pretty pleased with myself that I can now say I have run a half marathon.

And just to make sure I would be able to say that, I kept running throughout the 13.1 mile course - regardless of how much my body felt like it was dying with every step towards the end, and I was pretty pleased with my time of two hours 12 minutes and 42 seconds.

But when I finished, I had no idea what to do. Through my intense exhaustion all I could see was a sea of foil blankets around centenery square and I didn't know where I was supposed to go or how to get out of the crowd to meet Paul in the ICC centre.

I must have looked like a lost puppy as I wrapped a foil sheet someone had handed me around my shoulders and stumbled around the square on legs that suddenly felt like they were made out of blancmange.

Things seemed to apear from no where - various coloured bottles of powerade, bottles of water, more foil sheets, medals. I couldn't see straight, but I grabbed two bottles of water and downed one of them in five seconds flat. Then wished I hadn't because it made me feel really ill.

I picked up a goody bag and walked very very slowly over to the ICC centre where I found Paul, looking as bad as I felt. Seeing someone I knew made me want to talk about the race and which bits I found tough, which bits were like hell on earth and how pleased I was that I completed the challenge. I don't think he even heard me though, as he was desperately trying to recover from his cough as well as the run.

But suddenly, it was like a switch was flicked and I came over incredibly ill as Paul started to perk up. I could feel the blood draining from my face and I lay flat out on the floor in the centre. When Paul said he was ready to make his way home, I knew there was no way I was even going to make it to the door, and just about reached one of the bins before seeing half a bottle of watery lucozade in reverse. Lovely.

Felt so much better for it though, despite Paul's compulsion to tell the first person we saw about it, then text everyone we know telling them I vomitted within five minutes of the race, and then posting it on this blog. Such a caring boyfriend.

I can still say I ran a good race though, and that's the most important thing. Immediately after the race, I was saying I would never do anything like that ever again, but now I have recovered (albeit with a pulled tendon in my ankle) I am pretty up for doing a few more 10k races, and even - dare I say it - another half marathon next year.

But for now, I am going to sit back and relax for a good week or so, drink lots of wine and eat lots of ice cream. I reckon I have earned it.