After several months of walking up and down the East Sussex coast in preparation, the Moonwalk finally came around on Saturday night. It was a slightly weird feeling travelling up to London on the train with my Rio Barbie bra carefully covered for the big reveal in Hyde Park. I say carefully as the last thing I wanted was to take off my T-shirt and find that one of my nipple tassels had got damaged and was beyond repair before the big off. BUT everything survived intact and having carefully packed my bum bag with space blanket, folded rain mac, lip balm, tissues, fingerless gloves and jelly babies for emergencies we eventually got walking just after midnight.
I’d love to say that we proudly tramped the streets with the bling from our bras beaming in the moonlight but the truth of the matter is it was cold….. FREEZING cold! Thankfully I listened to my inner voice that told me to hold on to my hooded top and fleece bodywarmer. Not very glam I’ll admit but this toasty combination kept out the chill whilst I spent the first 12 miles thinking ‘are we halfway there yet’ and ‘why didn’t I sign up for the half moon’ ( the 13 mile option). To be honest I felt that I’d done enough training before I started but at the 12 mile mark I couldn’t see myself getting to the finish line. I was tired, nausea had set in and my head was beginning to hurt ~ it was also dark. But I wasn’t alone and we were all walking to raise money for an important cause so I kept putting one foot in front of another, I didn’t need to get there fast, I just had to get there.
The next few miles seemed to go by effortlessly as the sun came up over London and just a glint of daylight helped to pick up the pace.
But at around 18 miles I had to resort to painkillers (courtesy of Fiona) as my hips began to scream. Given that I have the flattest feet known to man I’d expected my feet to be more painful but both hips were agony at this point and with 8.2 miles still to go, drugs were the only way to cope. By the time we hit the 20 mile marker the sun shining bright and I knew 2 things for sure;
1. I was going to see the finish line and
2. There was a hot bath full of bubbles and a cold glass of cava waiting for me back in Brighton.
I’m proud (and slightly amazed) to say that we eventually crossed the line at 9.12 am. 9 hrs and two very sore legs later although I probably wouldn’t do it again I definitely think it was worth it.
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