10k in London- The disaster

It always starts off well, with a swell of excitement. We do the warm up together awkwardly doing squats and lunges, smiling at each other nicely, but inside we know they are our competition. 

Then the march to the startling where everyone fiddles with their smart phones and watches to track every step they are about to take.

The countdown 10,9,8...

Perhaps if I had been paying a bit more attention from the start it wouldn't have ended with me sniffling on the tube back to St Paul's from Aldgate to grab my medal and refuse to cross the finish line -though I don't think it would have been an option because I took so long when I finally got there the volunteers nearly done packing up. 

Races are supposed to be fun, and for the most part it was. I tried to follow someone doing a similar pace to me, she was about 20 years older than me and lost me with ease within 10 minutes.

So, my next strategy was to just make it back to the finish. There must have been a couple of hundred people at the start, but I looked around as I got to the tower of London and I was alone.

Well, not completely because there is always people around in london, but there were no other runners with glow sticks and a number attached to them.

I had my headphones on saw 2 people in high vis vests thought ok, I'm on the right track. I ran to the bottom of stairs. Left or right? Left or right? Right or left?

I thought about running back up the stairs to ask the volunteers but a homeless woman was Sat underneath a bridge and pointed right.

Well why wouldn't I go where the nice lady had pointed? She was trying to help me, and besides there would be a sign further up if I had gone the wrong way. I ignored the fact that there had not been many signs so far along the course, making the run quite difficult, but surely nothing would go wrong?

Obviously I was wrong, I went so far off course, it was not even funny. I checked my strava and had done 11k. In the opposite direction to where I was supposed to be. 

I turned it off at that point and started to retrace my steps. I carried on past where the homeless lady had been, but I didn't go past her physically just past where she told me to go. It didn't cross my mind go actually go past her because the tower of London was in front of me so I was on the home straight.

If the home straight was in another direction to home than yes. I got lost again. 

I tried following another running in the vain hope he was a part of the race. He was not, so I referred back to a map on my phone which told me I was half an hour from the finish line.

I screamed internally and grabbed my oyster card out of my pocket. I was in Aldgate. I needed to be at St Paul's which was about half an hour away. In another direction. 

I'd conceded defeat by that point, so I got on the tube and headed back to St Paul's (triple checking I was going the right way when I was on it).

When I finally made it back to the beginning/finish everyone had packed up and looked nearly ready to go. I thrust my time chip at a guy and went to a woman to complain that it was worst sign posted run I had ever done (might have only done 2 bug was still true) and vented my frustration. 

Apparently I was not the only one that got lost, so I felt slightly better as I munched on my vegan bar on my way back to the hostel.

Strava tried to make me feel better by telling me I had a PR on my 5k and 10k but I think it is talking out of its backside.

I took a lot of pictures along the way, perhaps that was my downfall, but I was not just going to run past all of this and not take it in...

So lesson learnt, pay more attention and perhaps make sure the next run is running in small circles so I can't get lost.