My Royal Parks Half Marathon Journey: From Nervous Beginnings to Triumph

Last Sunday, I ran the Royal Parks Half Marathon, one of London’s most iconic races. I wasn’t planning on running a half marathon until at least January, but when a bib number came up unexpectedly, I thought, why not?—famous last words, right?

Carb Loading Madness

The moment I decided to take on this race, I plunged into research about race prep. I had been following a carnivore diet, so the concept of carb-loading was a whirlwind. I spent the days before the race eating as many carbs as possible—talk about a diet shock! Balancing training, work, and life during those few days was a real challenge, but I was determined to give it my best.

Race Day Nerves

Race day arrived, and it started at 5 AM with stretching, hydrating, and getting ready. The chill of autumn hit hard as I stepped outside, wishing I had charged my heated insoles (note to self for next time!). Meeting up with my fellow Ruislip Running Club members at Manor Station was a fantastic start—everyone was in high spirits, even at that hour.

Then came the nerves. A wave of anxiety hit me, the kind where your stomach turns, and you wonder if that pre-race coffee was a mistake. As the train filled with more runners, I questioned my decision to be up so early, preparing to run 13.1 miles instead of staying warm in bed. But I quickly reminded myself why I was doing this: for the London Marathon in April, and more importantly, to raise money for Great Ormond Street Hospital.

The Start Line and Early Miles

Standing at the start line, surrounded by thousands of runners, you could feel the excitement and tension in the air. Everyone was in their mental zone, battling personal challenges just like me. My goal was simple: get to the 10K mark without stopping.

When we set off, the energy of the crowd was electric. Running through the streets of London, hearing cheers from spectators and even some Ruislip Running Club members volunteering along the route was beyond motivating. It was surreal hearing my name called out as I ran around London’s most famous landmarks.

The Pain Kicks In

Around 7K, my right Achilles started acting up—just my luck after recovering from the other one! The pain was sharp, and I slowed to a limp. After a quick self-massage and some choice words, I pushed forward, determined not to let it stop me. Then came the halfway point, and I was over the moon that I made it that far, despite the setback.

Mental Battles and the Final Push

The mental battle was tough. After 11 miles, my legs were jelly, and every step was agony. My body was screaming for me to stop, but then I remembered my mantra: It’s not about finish times, it’s about finish lines. Walking the next two miles, I was in awe of my fellow runners, especially the guy carrying a full set of golf clubs! Runners are a truly inspirational bunch.

The 2-hour 45 pacer caught up with me, and that gave me a boost. I started jogging again, just to keep up. When we hit the final 800 meters, I was completely spent, but the sight of the cheering crowds pushed me forward. Somehow, I found the strength to run the last 400 meters and crossed the finish line in pain, tears, and triumph.

The Aftermath

Crossing the finish line was an overwhelming moment, one that will stay with me forever. I was completely spent, my body wracked with pain, my legs barely holding me up, but the sense of accomplishment coursing through me was indescribable. It felt like every step of the race had built up to that moment, a crescendo of physical and emotional endurance. All I wanted to do was collapse, cry, and revel in the fact that I did it. Somehow, through the pain, I remembered to turn off Strava (because of priorities!). I was broken, physically and mentally—but in the best way possible.

Seeing my running club mates waiting for me at the end was emotional. They were there, cheering for me not just as fellow runners but as the friends who’ve seen me struggle and persevere. They helped me walk when my legs wouldn’t move, and I knew at that moment that this was more than just a race—it was part of something bigger, something life-changing. Maybe I should have gone to the medical tent, but all I could think about was celebrating with a pint of Guinness and some much-needed McDonald’s.

Conclusion: Running is More Than Just a Race

So why do we do this to ourselves? Why put our bodies and minds through such relentless pain, when we could be home, warm, and comfortable? It’s because running changes you. It’s not just about crossing a finish line—it’s about the journey, the struggle, and the countless mental battles that you fight and win along the way. Running teaches you resilience. And for me, standing on that finish line made every single ounce of pain worth it.

It’s terrifying and brutal at times, but it’s also beautiful. You don’t just become a runner—you become part of a community that lifts you when you’re at your lowest. Ruislip Running Club has been that community for me, supporting me no matter my ability, and championing me through every high and low. It might not make sense at first, but when you finally cross that finish line—whether it’s your first race or your fiftieth—you realize that running isn’t just about the race; it’s about becoming someone you didn’t even know you could be.