If I am honest, I think that I knew I had done something bad when I finished the track marathon on Thursday evening. As I drove out of the car park I tried to put my foot on the clutch. It was excruciating. Not really knowing what to do about it, I followed my usual policy of ignoring it and hoping it would go away. Sadly, this time it didn't work!

When I creaked my way out of bed on Friday morning it took a lot more effort to ignore the problem. The right foot was still sore, but no worse than it had been all week. My left leg, however, was red, swollen, and had apparently decided that it didn't want to carry my weight any more. I put on my running shoes despite this inconvenience, and made my way with Pete and Leo to the Forest Way, where I was to run about 10 miles, before my brother Dan would join me to run 10 more, and then accompany me for the final 6 on his bike. I think Pete was worried about me trying to run 10 miles on my own when I could barely walk (or string together a sentence) because he volunteered to walk along the track while I ran back and forward to keep checking in. He doesn't much like walking...

To cut a long story short, the leg didn't get any less painful as I ran on it. I "ran" for 3 very slow, very painful miles. Mostly in tears. I didn't know what to do - I couldn't give up, but I couldn't run either. I felt as though my body were screaming at me to stop, and I was worried that by ignoring it I would do serious damage. My instincts, as it turned out, were right, although I did my best to ignore them. Finally, my leg actually gave way. Thank God for small mercies - I didn't land in dog poo. At that point, I had 2 choices. 1. Hop the remaining 23.2 miles on a lame foot. 2. Give up. Neither were feasible. We made our tearful, slow way back to the car park. Even Leo had to wait for me. Dan was there ready to run with me. I felt terrible that he had taken half a day's holiday and driven down from London for this, and I was going to let him down. And then, hallelujah! Option 3 presented itself! There was a bicycle hire shop in Forest Row - I would hire a bike, Dan had his in the car, and we would cycle this marathon! Yes. A flawless plan indeed. With new found zeal I hopped over to the cycle hire shop, attractively located in a former public toilets. It was closed. Damn. But, there was a phone number. The bike hire guy answered on the fifth attempt and from then on was nothing but helpful. I explained the situation, and within 20 minutes there he was, and I had a bike. Dan and I set off. To my relief, I could pedal without any real pain, although the leg did creak periodically in a very diconcerting manner. It didn't take all that long to cycle the remaining 23 miles as the Forest Way is completely flat and smooth, and it took pretty much zero effort compared to the agony of trying to run. It was pretty pleasant compared the agony of trying to run (not usually, but that day) and we had loads of good chats. We also hardly needed to eat any jelly babies! Win win all round.

We finished the marathon in an unimpressive 3 hours 18 minutes. That looks great on a running watch, but it skewed all my PBs :/. Still that was the least of my worries.

On Saturday, I took a trip to A&E. They could not give me a diagnosis, but they told me in no uncertain terms that I must not run with my leg in that state.  If I attempted to cycle or walk I might still do significant or even permanent damage. They suspected a stress fracture, and possible acute soft tissue damage. I reluctantly took their advice, and the challenge is now on hold until I have the all clear to run again - and train again of course! I was very, very upset to have to stop (read about that in my blog post here) but I've had a bit of time to come to terms with it all now. I'm just itching to get back running again!