Slow and steady...

For the  fortnight before I started round two of my treatment I quietly just got on with gathering my strength and getting used to my mouth being a bit different. I can now eat most things albeit slowly, I forgot to mention in my previous posts that when they operated they also had to split my jaw bone for access (it's now got a wee titanium bolt holding it back together) which meant they also removed my bottom front teeth,  so biting into stuff is a bit difficult, luckily with my remaining nine teeth I have one canine tooth and one premolar that still have their opposite numbers meeting them on the left side, which is also the side with a proper bit of tongue which I think helps.  Yaaay, four teeth that work!  Hopefully the couple I've been left with on the right side will help anchor new gnashers when I'm finished treatment and my mouth settles down.   I haven't tried peanuts yet or a nice crunchy salad, I think I'll expend more energy trying to chew that lot than what I'll gain from it!  I didn't lose too much weight when I was in hospital but I'm now back to my fighting weight plus a couple of pounds in store.

I've had a few appointments at Edinburgh's Western General  for CT scans, getting prepared for my treatment and a couple of appointments at my GP's surgery having the dressing changed on the skin graft on my wrist, it's healing nicely but slowly.  Oops, I was out when the dietician came for a home visit, not all my fault, she said she'd come after lunch but arrived at five past twelve, I was home by quarter past.  She came back on Tuesday and is happy with my progress. 

Last Friday was a cracking sunny day and there was nowhere I had to be and with the thought that the next six weeks my routine will be every morning, Monday to Friday, I'll be over to the Western for radiotherapy.  I wasn't wasting the day stuck inside so took myself to the Craigmead car park between East and West Lomond and headed up West Lomond, there were quite a few folk about, not surprising with it being so sunny, there was a big group snaking up the steep path, I was disappointed I wasn't going to get the top to myself, then I frowned at myself for being selfish, it was a group of kids with a couple of adults and nice to see them  enjoying being outside and not spending the last day of their holidays sat in front of the telly with a games console.  On the way back down my legs felt lovely and bouncy and I tried a wee jog only for around a minute, I could feel my jaw jarring a bit so stopped, it was only just over a month since the surgery but it was nice to try.  I'm not going to be daft, my body is using it's resources for recovery and repair and I won't do anything to hinder that but my body isn't used to being a couch potato either so when I got back to the car park I felt fine and wasn't ready to stop so headed up East Lomond , I was out for just short of three hours and it's around eight miles for both hills.  

I've been taking myself over to the Western for my radiotherapy, my appointment time is for 11.00am,so the Bridge isn't busy but I've been leaving in plenty time and getting there early and on both Monday and Tuesday I was in and out before 11.00am, once in position it only takes about ten minutes to be zapped.  Last night I had an overnight stay in the Western for my first skoosh of chemo, except it more like drip.....drip.....drip.....drip..... it took ages.

Pauline took me over for 9.30am.  After the doctor check me over her final words after I told her I'd been up the Lomonds  were "I wish all my patients were as active as you."  (So wheesht you lot that say I should just sit on my bakooky, I'm doing it now, see, a nice balance!)  A cannula was stuck into the back of my hand, then I was send along for my radiotherapy and after I was back I was hooked up to a big bag of fluids just to make sure I was well hydrated, I was drinking plenty too, my urine was to be monitored, I thought they would just want a small sample but no they wanted it all.  So being a girly type I had to place a grey cardboard pan on the pan then pee, I'm not sure about the quality but the quantity reached gold medal standard, twice I thought I was gonna make a waterfall before I stopped!  I pitied the poor nurse that had to carry the sample to be tested, actually no I didn't I just smiled and let her know I'd been.  

The fluids took four hours to go through then a wee bag of steroids then the toxic stuff, now jeezy-peeps it  must be dangerous, the bag was in another bag and the nurse had protective gloves on to hook it up and then she let it drip into me!  (I was also told that when changing the dressing on the skin graft if it is still has weepy bits to bag it twice before disposing it as it would be contaminated!)  The chemo dripped through over another six hours I was asked regularly if I was feeling ok, (I was) then another big bag of fluids which eventually finished around 4.00am.  After the chemo I was told I didn't have to pee any more I hope she just meant in the cardboard potty!  I have never had to get up so often through the night so I didn't sleep too well, this morning I woke feeling like I'd had a late night with a few glasses of wine, not quite hung over but neither bright eyed and bushy tailed, after breakfast and coffee I felt fine if just a bit tired.  I was home by noon after another zap of radiotherapy.  I didn't laze about when I got home I went for the big Tesco shop but I made Pete come with me and I was fine, even walking round Tesco keeps the blood circulating!

Tomorrow I'll take it easy after the last zap of the week, since I'll getting picked up at 4.00am Saturday morning.  I'm not running the Highland Fling any more but Pauline is and Gillian is driving and I'm coming for the fun and to help.  I'll be on duty at Rowardennan, not sure what my job will be but I'll be wearing these babies and they need broken in!  If I hear whimpering...

(Sarah, Andrea says this is your first ultra, you have picked a cracker to start with, you'll be fine, relax, run easy and enjoy.  Hope to see you go through Rowardennan smiling) 

Round Two

I was at the Western General this morning for the pathology results and I am to have radio and chemotherapy, as I said earlier I was prepared for this result.

Okay doky, I now know what’s ahead, that’s been the hard bits really, the unknown from the very beginning on my first appointment. The word ‘may’ appeared as in “This may be sinister.”  To “You ‘may’ need further treatment.” Well, now I can face it head on. It will take six weeks starting on 22^nd April, I’ll have radiotherapy Monday to Friday with the weekends off and for the chemo, one hit on my first day of the radiotherapy with a single night staying in the Western so they can monitor my kidneys and bloods.  It shouldn’t be until around the third week when they hit me with the second and final blast of chemo that I’ll start to feel a bit rough, my mouth will get sore and my neck will feel like it’s sunburnt but that won’t be permanent and there’s a few other minor side effects .  The one thing I’m not liking the sound of is that I’ll end up with a dry mouth and that will be permanent, but keeping a bottle of water on hand definitely beats the alternative!

So the Fling will be around the early part of my treatment, and as long as I feel ok I’ll come up to cheer everyone on, but I’ll be a DNS for the WHW. That is the hard thing to get my head round, but next year will be all the sweeter when I slap my hands on the Leisure Centre’s doors.

I've still got the best support crew in my corner…seconds out…round two...ding ding.

.

Hands up, chin down. COME ON!

The Longest Tunnel.

Don’t worry, I'm not going to give you a scalpel by scalpel account of a medical procedure but this has been the hardest thing I've ever been through and without the support of everyone that cares for me I doubt I would've seen the light at the end so quickly.

Sunday 17^th March Pauline took me through to St John’s Hospital in Livingston, I wasn’t nervous, I haven’t done nerves since my first WHW race in 2003, I was looking at it like doing a big ultra, I knew what was ahead would be hard, and whatever happened I would do my best.

Monday 18^th was the operation, being anaesthetised is not like being asleep, I remember being prepared for the op and then suddenly I was coming round thinking that was quick, except it was twelve hours later. I felt ok, but I was on a morphine drip, my mouth and the right side of my face was numb, I was breathing easy and could wiggle my arms and legs.  This is where my fight started,  getting my bearings on what will be the new normal for me, two thirds of my tongue has been removed and replaced with skin, blood vessels and muscle from my left wrist, my wrist has been covered with a piece of skin from my tummy.  I was in Intensive Care until Tuesday afternoon, having my vital signs checked every hour.  It was reassuring when they stuck an ultra sound gizmo in my gob and I could hear my heart-beat pulsing loud and strong in the transplanted tissue.  I was moved up to a single room in the plastic surgery ward and on Tuesday night Pete and Pauline came to visit, they were really surprise how almost normal I looked, we had been told about the possibility of massive swelling and bruising, and apparently I wasn't too bad, I never saw myself for quite a few days so I just had to take their word for it.  I smiled when Pauline said the stitches up my chin were so small and neat and looked like a little Devil’s Staircase.  (The reason for the scar being zig-zagged is because the eye is drawn to straight lines so when it fades it will hardly be noticeable) I was tired but still fairly bright, I’d only missed one night’s sleep and for an ultra-runner that’s a doddle.  With having a trachea tube I couldn't talk, but when folk asked questions that only require a nod or a shake of the head, and it is amazing what you can say with hand signals and a note pad and pen, it wasn't too hard making myself understood.

   

After another night of being checked hourly, and with the sound of the oxygen pump and feeding pump whirring away and the noise of the ward I had second night with no sleep.  I was warned that the third day was the day where most folk who have gone through this took a dip.  Yep, it was a struggle, not any particular painful thing, that was being controlled by drugs it was the overwhelming everything at once.  Lying on my back for days was just not right, neither was having my left arm bandaged in a big tight dressing from knuckles to elbow, a breathing tube attached to my throat, two drainage tubes in my neck, one in my left arm, a catheter in my bladder and intravenous antibiotics in the back of my right hand.  I felt like a beached octopus.  The room was kept uncomfortably hot to make sure my blood vessels are nice and open. I was lying doing nothing but sweating like I was running a 10k on a summer’s afternoon, my arse was stuck to the damp sheets and my back ached. 

Pauline had plastered the toilet door with photos of my running highlights, West Highland Way and family gatherings.  I found it hard to look at them without doubting my ability of ever being healthy and outside again. But day by day the tubes were removed and by Friday all I had was the feeding tube.  Besides being nil by mouth I was also nil by bum, but Friday was the day that things moved and not just my bowels, I was in my own jammies at last and was able to get out of bed by myself,  I went for a pee around every two hours, not because I needed, it was because I could!  I also managed to sleep for the first time since Monday. 

The tunnel was coming to an end, Pauline and Pete brought in Mel’s iPad that she has generously lent me and I was back in touch via facebook and email. It was such a comfort having all your support and visits, and all the cards and wee presents I’d been sent too, a guardian Angel, a beautiful hummingbird brooch with the words in the card “A wee strong bird that can go very far!”  brought a lump to my throat, and some that had me rolling with laughter, a People’s Friend (yes I did read it, but not the serial stories, I wasn't wanting sucked in like watching an episode of a soap)  the hack saw with the cake.  Knowing I was in the heart of a lot of prayers was a comfort, I embrace all faiths and my uncle who’s  just back from a holiday in India  sent me a little statue of Ganesh, he’s the Hindu god for luck and good fortune, and his belly gets a little rub every day.  Some practical stuff, hand cream, lip balm, note book and pens, some knitting to keep me out of mischief and one thing I’ll never forget, (I still didn't have the go ahead to eat anything with substance,) the first proper food I had in nearly a fortnight, it took me all night to eat it with a spoon, a delicious Scrumptiousness cake!

I was coming on leaps and bounds and started to question some of my treatment, like did I need to be fed through the night? Also, I didn't believe 1700 calories a day was enough me, I was polite but in my mind I smiled and though “Oi don’t you know I have the metabolism of Rampant Lion!”  I also opened my window a crack and what a difference, my room was far more comfortable.  I had a little giggle to myself when three different nurses were checking my vitals said, “That’s better than mine!”

I was to be kept in over the Easter weekend, no bad thing I suppose because if I was let out I would have went to Perth to watch the Anglo-Celtic Plate 100k and 50k races. But I followed the progress on twitter and facebook, not as good as being there but the next best thing available to me. Doctors stopped examining me and on morning rounds just stuck their head round my door just to say Hi and if I needed anything I knew where they were.  

On Tuesday I was allowed home and what a pleasure sleeping in my own bed.  Getting out and about, but I'm being good, no running until the skin graft has healed.  My right shoulder is dodgy with nerve damage, my speech isn't too bad, I am being understood, saying the letters L and R need a lot more practice but I’ll get there.  It is hard though, from the oxters doon I’m in excellent health and chomping at the bit to go for a run but I'm gathering my strength, I still don’t know if I've to get radio or chemotherapy but I'm prepared if I do. On the grand scale of a life time what’s another six weeks of treatment and feeling rough for a wee bit longer. I’ll find out on Monday. 

But before that I've got a great night out ahead on Saturday, a fortieth birthday bash where I’ll be returning a lot of the hugs and love I've been sent.

One more thing, I will not be called a cancer victim or sufferer. I am a cancer survivor! 

Just a few words before I go in.

Once again thank you all for the support; it is overwhelming how you all hold me in your thoughts and prayers.  Dearie me, you’re making me emotional, and I’m not going to cry until it’s over.  It’s not just on my blog or facebook, but emails, private messages, texts and phone calls.  (Mel has lent me her ipad and Pete will bring it in when I’m able to use it, so I’ll be able to keep in touch through facebook and emails.)  I’ve also had some very positive news from three friends, all unconnected and they all know someone who has gone through mouth cancer and they’ve all recovered to be fit and healthy, one is even a runner and they got back to it quickly.  This is reassuring especially after my last health scare.  When I came out of hospital that time the most common reaction I got when folk knew I’d had a brain haemorrhage  said “Oh, I knew someone that had one but they died!” My confidence of reaching the end of the day every time I heard that was not good, but that is now nearly eight years ago and my strength and belief in myself has grown since then and I have achieved so much and I have no doubt I will again.

I never expected this past week to be so debilitating, I think I was just looking at this as a wee procedure in preparation for the surgery, just a stepping stone towards the main event.  Recovering from having the teeth out was ok and I could eat fine as long as I did it slowly.  But the wound in my tummy is still a bit tender, and the most active I've been is to shuffle round Tesco’s, I even made Pete come to push the trolley!  My tummy hasn't felt hungry but I've shovelled the food in, just like racing, little and often, actually not that little.  Full fat milk, hefty milkshakes, loads of cheese, Reese’s Cups, I’d never heard of them before but they were given to me from Pauline’s friend, they’re peanut butter covered in chocolate and have 500 calories per 100g, hot cross buns with slabs of butter, toast with a hefty spreading of peanut butter and strawberry jam,  and Sue’s delicious home baking, that’s just the snacks I've had proper meals and puddings as well.  I had hoped to put on about half a stone but it’s just a measly three pounds!  I can’t understand how I can be so inactive, eat such high fat stuff and put on so little, although I haven’t manage to store a lot of fat at least every muscle fibre is fuelled to the hilt ready for the fight. 

We (Me, Pete and Pauline) were back at St. John’s on Friday to sign consent form and go through the nuts and bolts of the operation (Surgeon’s words not mine) It’s going to take a long time, around twelve hours with three surgeons  working in relay, lucky for me I know how to do ultra!  After seeing the MRI he is going to remove more of my tongue than he first said and there will be nerve damage, some will be permanent, some temporary also the incision will run up my chin and through my lip, he may remove a tooth at the bottom front for access.  Scars fade and I can LIVE with this! 

I can’t say often enough how much your caring words of support mean to me, they are a great comfort, I am honoured to have such a support crew, I am not fighting alone.  Hold me tight in your thoughts and prayers, especially tomorrow evening when I come round, it’s gonna feel weird.

Dave, thank you for my battle mantra.  Hands up, chin down.  I don’t know how many rounds I'm going and I'm not stopping until I've won.  I've got the best people in my corner.   My chin is gonna get quite a skelp, but that ok, I'm strong enough to take it, I’ll stay standing,  I'm not doing Marquis of Queensberry rules though.  Cancer doesn't fight fair so neither will I, the gloves are off and I have a roll of pound coins in each fist. 

COME ON!   

A wee update

It wasn’t easy writing my last post, I didn’t want to shock or upset anyone but I want all the help I can get and your words come from the heart and I can feel the strength you’ve all sent me with all the best wishes, good vibes, prayers and love.  Thank you all for your support here and on facebook it will make all the difference to my recovery knowing you all hold me in your hearts.

 Oh dearie me, (this is the closest thing you’ll hear to a whinge) I didn’t expect to feel so sore, the entry site for the feeding tube is tender and to be expected but I think my tummy muscles have a bad case of DOMS, they’ve been stretched beyond their normal, (if it was my legs I’d be fine), I’m trying to do a little cat (yoga) but the movement is microscopic at the minute.  I’m sure I’ll loosen off soon, and I had a great sleep in my own bed last night.

Don’t panic I won’t give a blow by blow account of having a general anaesthetic, teeth out and a feeding tube inserted but it was a lot sorer than I anticipated.  The dentist recommended three teeth to come out but the surgeon had other ideas, he took out six.  The wisdom one next to the duff one at the bottom, ok fair enough, and another couple on the other side, one did have big fillings but the one opposite was fine, I feel a bit robbed there, nae wisdom teeth left, I’ll be thick as mince but according to the piratical one my ranking in the Scottish Matriarchal system has soared. .

Coming round from the anaesthetic I was scared to move, the last time I was wired up to a light and sound show but I was ok, just a very numb mouth and tightness in my tummy.   The surgeon came to see me and examined his handwork on my tummy.  Wow! Last time it was this hard and round I was seven months pregnant!   (Mind you I did have a neat bump and I wasn’t the size of a house) Ok, I’ll be fartin’ like a horse later was what I thought.  But it was not to be; the air wasn’t in my gut but around my gut and would only dissipate in its own time. 

At tea time I managed to suck on half an egg sandwich, the lady that brought it said the bread was lovely and soft; well it was when I started it, just a bit stale when I finished it. I felt ok until about 10.15pm, then the trapped wind got quite sharp, I tried to breathe it away, normally when I take a deep breathe I feel it going down passed my belly button but I couldn’t breathe deeper than the bottom of my sternum, then I thought hang on, I’m in hospital with drugs, I don’t have to tough it out and pressed the buzzer.  Some painkillers and peppermint water and it eased, not enough for me to sleep but enough for me to relax a bit.  I’m a great believer in using thoughts and images, and I knew a lot of my friends and family would’ve read my blog by now, so I cocooned myself in all your prayers, best wishes and healing vibes being sent to me. 

In the morning the surgeon suggested I should stay another night after being so uncomfortable, just for his peace of mind. Gee thanks, so I resigned myself for another night as an inmate and Pauline and Pete brought me in some more jammies and stuff. I was put in a different ward, it was busy, stuffily hot and a vent/fan above my head rumble all night like an old lorry sat with its engine running, still no sleep but my tummy had eased a bit, in the morning I made sure I was bright and breezy for doctors rounds, I wasn't staying another night.  Thankfully they agreed and I was home in time for the rugby.  

Thank you Sue for popping round with some homemade Millionaire Shortbread on her mission of FUF (Fatten up Fiona) I’m going to lose weight so it would be helpfully if I could gain as much as possible before surgery. The rugby result wasn’t what I was looking for but it gave me fuel for thought.  Like I said earlier I like to use thoughts and mental images in my arsenal.  

On the outside I’m a five foot two, eight stone, fifty year old wifie. On the inside I’m as strong and as strapping as this Scottish Warrior, Richie Gray, six foot ten and twenty stone but I’ve picked Sebastien Chabal for my war face.  Cancer hasnae a chance!

Some news and I’m afraid it’s not good.

I'll start at the beginning, for quite a few months I've had an ulcer on the side of my tongue, my dentist was treating it believing it was caused by a rough tooth, he capped it, the ulcer wasn't going away and around Christmas it got really sore and swollen so he sent me to get it checked, I had an appointment on Monday 11th Feb, I went thinking I might get a prescription for steroids or something, I was told "It could be sinister, we'll do a biopsy, shall we do it now?"  So that was a bit of a shock at the time and traumatic going home with stitches in the side of my tongue and not what I expected, but I thought they were just being very cautious but on Monday 18th the news wasn't good.  I had a CT scan on Tuesday 19th and another long week waiting.  Tuesday 26th I was given more information and I am to have surgery, which will be around the end of March and hopefully it might be all the treatment I need, they can't say if I'll need chemo or radiotherapy until after the surgery.  

This week I’m on a tour of hospitals, on Monday I had an MRI scan at the Queen Margaret in Dunfermline, Tuesday a visit to Edinburgh's Western General to have my teeth checked, they are going to remove any that are not in good condition and that may include "over recovered" teeth, I had to ask what that meant, my four front teeth are crowns so that possibly included them.  I went in preparing myself with the thought that is if they take all my teeth out I’ll just have to smile with my eyes until I get new ones.  But I'm only going to lose one of my front ones and another two at the back, one at the top and one at the bottom.  Tomorrow I'm going to St John's in Livingston to have the teeth out and have a feeding tube inserted into my stomach since after surgery they don't want mince n' tatties going round my mouth. I'm going to have quite a few scars, they'll use a piece of skin and blood vessels from my left wrist for reconstruction after removing around a third of the right side of my tongue, then a wee piece of skin from my stomach to repair my wrist. Since breathing is good I will have a trachea tube for bit and a scar from below my right ear to the front of my throat.  

Apart from this I am in excellent health and running really well.  Thank’s to Kirsty at the By the Way for organising the Tyndrum weekend, it didn't totally take my mind off what is ahead of me but I was able to lock it away at the back of my mind and enjoy a wonderful run down the loch from Bein Glas to Inversnaid and back, and the company in the evening was second to none. At the weekend just gone, it was the Smokies 10, I knew I’d be close to my PB so I was still going to blast it, this was my twentieth time running Smokies 10, I’ve done it since 1992 and only missed it twice.  My PB was 1.19.36 set in 2003, ten years have passed but I didn’t doubt my ability.  I knocked over a minute off finishing 1.18.27.  Proof I’m fighting fit.

I’m going to have to withdraw from the 100km at Perth, I’ll probably still be in hospital and they tell me I won’t be recovered in time for the Fling.  This is going to wipe me out for a bit even if I don’t need chemo but  I’m not prepared to give up the WHW yet, I don’t have to make this decision just now, if there’s a slim chance I can still do it I’m hanging onto that goal.  I didn’t quite put my fingers in ears and shout La la la la when Pauline was suggesting that I want my tenth to be enjoyable and waiting a year won’t diminish my achievement.  We’ll see?

I've a big battle ahead of me, I am a fighter and I punch above my weight.  I have some wonderful people supporting me in my corner (if you’re reading this you’re one of them).  I've had some lovely emails, James reminding me I am my Mother’s daughter and Gail saying that I am still a Rampant Lion.  Damn right!  Cancer will knock me back on my heels but I’ll stay standing, it will scar me and have me spitting teeth but it will never take my roar!

A blast from the past.

When John Pares recently posted on facebook – I had an emotional moment at the beginning of yesterday's race. Like most runners in the cold, I took an old t-shirt to keep me warm and then throw away at the start. Yesterday's t-shirt was my 2003 2 bridges t-shirt, my first ever ultra. There was a small tear in my eye as I threw it. Then, joy of joy, it was still there at the end. Re-united to renew our 10 year relationship after just a few hours apart. Next time I will take more care which t-shirt I choose. - It sent me down memory lane, the Two Bridges Road Race was a classic and local to me.  I remember watching it in incomprehensible awe that runners could go so far.  A few years later Pauline ran it. I think in all, thirteen times and in 1996 she was First Lady.

It's a shame that such an iconic race has disappeared but the history is still there.  Well worth a read -  Two Bridges Race History

In 1999 I ran it for the first time, it was my third ultra, (I’d ran Lairig Ghru in 1997 and the Speyside Way 50km in April 1999) and I did it every year from 1999 to 2004, I’ve knocked the dust off from my old running diary, here’s my scribblings for Saturday 28^th August 1999

The Big One – Two Bridges

After feeling nervous all week I was ok this morning, just went through the routine of getting ready. It was bright clear day which turned out hot and sunny, ran with my sunglasses on.

                                                 Lynne, Pauline, Rabbit the Bruce and myself.

When the gun went off my stomach didn’t do the double flip like at Speyside 50km, I was prepared and ready to run.

Started nice and easy or so I thought, the first 2 miles was in 17 minutes. Quick panic and consciously tried to slow, 5 miles was in 45 minutes, a bit better but still too quick for my liking.

                                                 Going through Cairneyhill (Stan Milne just behind me)

I had a bit of pins and needles in my left leg (due to my niggly back) told myself it was only nerve pain and not muscle pain, I can run with that and it disappeared before Longannet.  

Concentrated on running easy and keeping relaxed, bounced along to Kincardine Bridge, on the bridge I looked at the views around, felt good saying to myself “One down, one to go.”

It was a bit unsettling after the bridge on the long stretch before turning left along to Skinflats, I didn’t like the lorries scuffing my elbow.  Stan Milne, his pal and the Devil’s Staircase guy pulled away from me.  I was still feeling unsettled when I saw Ian Laird at a drink station, I smiled when he said I was looking good and I looked like I hadn’t even broke sweat yet, then he said Pauline and Lynne were only a couple of minutes ahead, that made me panic again, I must still be going too quick.

At the next drink station Russell joined me for the rest of the race.  Just before Grangemouth caught up with Willie Mair then passed him.  After Grangemouth I started to feel comfortable (it’s a bit of bugger that I had to run 18 miles before settling down) cruised along to Bo’ness.  With the big hill in mind I wanted to get that bit over with.  At the bottom I got my juice and Kendal Mint Cake, walked while I drank and munched.  Then started to do wee shuffles so my legs wouldn’t be too stecky at the top, then I think the Kendal Mint Cake kicked in, I felt great, I wanted to run so I did, passing Stan and pal.  Really enjoyed the next few miles, I got to the marathon point in 4hrs 25mins, and then the long long slow climb got me but I still caught Margaret from Dundee.  I was beginning to tire but in my mind’s eye I was running with long strong legs and looked comfortable.

The Forth Road Bridge took a long time to come into view but I hauled it in.  On the bridge I had a few emotional moments when I looked left to where I’ve been.  On the slog up Ferry Toll Russell said Margaret was catching me and to pick it up.  Pick it up!!  I tried, but she got me at the top of Ferry Toll. Worked hard, puffing all the way just to maintain pace, got a lump in my throat when Carol Lisle gave me encouragement going passed her house.  I thought I was going to finish with tears streaming down my face but when I got to the top of hill and I could see down to the finish with Erin, Mum and Pauline cheering I ‘sprinted’ in with a great big stoopid smile on my face, I was so elated I could've cartwheeled  over the finish.