The Day Leeds Came Out to Cheer for Rob – Review of the Leeds Marathon 14th May 2023
I will remember this marathon forever.
I knew it was going to be a good one. The second it was announced after a 20 year hiatus, I pounced on purchasing my ticket, and got the number 800! I’d grown up as a kid in Leeds, attended Leeds schools (St. Urban’s Primary and Cardinal Heenan High) and looked at runners then as other worldly human beings, people who must have had a screw loose!
I left Leeds in 2006/7 for various reasons but to sum it up, I’d had so many bad experiences from ages 15-24 I just had to get out of there and restart my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but 20 years later I’ve started to talk more about what happened. If you’d like to know more, check out one of my recent interviews here.
Moving to Manchester was one of the best decisions of my life and it’s now my home. It was there I found running (or it found me!) and started my own beginner running club and charity, called the MileShyClub.
When I started running in 2009, I knew that going back to Leeds for my first race was my way of showing Leeds how far I’d come. The hardest road race on offer was the Leeds half marathon which I completed in 2010 as my first ever race! Then when I got to marathon running (as you do!), Manchester was my first as a way to say thank you to the city that had let me call it home. But then Leeds didn’t have a marathon. It hadn’t had one for years.
My first marathon experience, like for many others, was so hard, put me off doing more. That was until an old school friend told me she was running her first marathon – the Yorkshire marathon. She asked if I’d run it with her.
“It’s the closest you’ll ever get to running a marathon in Leeds,” she said at the time.
It was on my 35th birthday which I took as “a sign” and I thought what the heck, let’s do it! With very little fuss over training, I completed it in just over 5 hours and had THE best time on the course. It was so much fun and reignited my desire to run marathons.
From there, I went on to run Manchester 3 more times, and London. I’d also jumped on a plane after work on a Thursday evening, landed in JFK, and run round the entire city of New York, returning to my desk on Monday morning. Running makes you do crazy stuff!
So that meant the Leeds marathon would be my 7th marathon. The stars had aligned again. Number 7 – Rob Burrow’s number.
I’ll fess up now. I didn’t know who Rob Burrows was until I signed up to the marathon. I’d heard of Kevin Sinfield and his epic achievement of running 7 marathons in 7 days, but I didn’t even really know what MND (motor neurone disease) was, apart from that Professor Stephen Hawkings had it. But following Sunday, I know more about it now, which makes me appreciate just how devastating a diagnosis it is.
I’d been training for this race since October last year, starting with
hitting the gym twice a week, before the running training kicked in during December.
I’d planned to incorporate the Manchester marathon as a “training run” because it’s
right on my doorstep (and why not?) but to be honest, that experience 4 weeks
prior to Leeds had been quite frankly, horrible, which made me completely revisit
my goals for Leeds. I just wanted to
enjoy the Leeds marathon and complete it with a smile. Unlike at Manchester! (Read the review here).
Recovery from Manchester had been great. I basically replicated the last 4 weeks of my training plan before Manchester for Leeds, which included a 13-mile run which I did along the coast at South Shields, as well as doing their parkrun.
The day before the marathon, we went to visit the in-laws.
“Got any running plans coming up?” they asked over lunch (which was a massive brie and cranberry panini with portion of chips).
I nodded. “Leeds marathon tomorrow.”
“Is that the Rob Burrows marathon?” they asked, and I nodded again. They’d seen him on the tv that morning.
They wished me luck and I could feel myself getting emotional, so I fought it down with more chips. I really struggled that day to eat due to nerves – it’s a really strange feeling to not want to eat food (one I NEVER usually feel) but I knew it was the nerves talking. I did manage it though!
On the way home to Manchester, I let out a squeal as I saw the motorway signage advising of delays the following day for the Leeds marathon.
With 30 minutes to go until we got home, I pointed out a sign to my husband that said 23 miles to Manchester and told him that’d I’d be running that distance tomorrow plus 3 more miles! I got a look!
In the lead up to the “big day” I’d been getting up earlier and earlier each day of the last week, and going to bed at 9.30pm, so that the 5am start on the Sunday didn’t feel too hard. It really paid off. I managed to eat a bowl of porridge, drink a small cup of tea and take a coffee in the car. I didn’t drink any water – I’d drank loads the day before and knew from Manchester that I didn’t want to drink too much resulting in a toilet stop.
I’d signed up to the Park and Ride from Elland Road. I knew it would be carnage outside Headingley Stadium on the day, and it was definitely the right call. I did get there super early though – arriving at 6.45am, but again, lessons from Manchester, I didn’t want to risk being late and missing my wave if there were any delays.
On the bus, there was a first timer behind me. He had his whole family out to support him and we had a good natter. I gave him my number 1 tip – not to go out too fast.
Waiting for the bus to go, a gladiator then got on. He stood at the front near the driver and everyone stared at him. I felt sorry for him (I mean, who wouldn’t feel awkward being the only one in fancy dress?!) so I invited him to sit next to me to “rest his legs”. He was called Jason and was from the running group ‘No Llama Drama’ (yes really) and he couldn’t tell me how many marathons (or ultras) he’d done because he’d done so many, despite only starting to run 4 years ago. Amazing.
I told Jason I had thought about coming dressed as Wonder Woman but I decided to play it safe in my MileShyClub top instead. I said that my superhero friends weren’t with me that day. He gave me a “look” and I assured him that I was serious! I should have showed him this picture from last October…
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/superheroesofsale2020
Anyway…
It was easy to find the stadium after the bus drop off and I went straight to the loo. I had a nosy round the various stands because I quite fancied one of the hoodies but there was no merchandise on sale. It was still quite early, so I figured I needed to find somewhere to sit. There had been a heavy mist that morning coming into Leeds and it wasn’t too warm so I looked around for somewhere to stay warm and kept my bag with me. I then spotted the onsite hotel. There was a leather sofa in their foyer and the receptionist kindly let me take a pew there. Winning.
After eating a banana, a lady came down the lift and sat with me and we talked about the challenge ahead. It turned out that she is married to one of Kevin Sinfield’s friends who had run the 7 marathons in 7 days challenge with him. It was nice just to chat about the specialness of the occasion and the amazing work that Rob and Kevin had done to raise profile and money for MND and Leeds hospitals.
At about 8.15am, I went to the loo again (thanks to some ladies who directed to me some loos upstairs which were queue free and clean – with hot water!) then headed to baggage drop. My wave (green) wasn’t due to start until 9.16am and at 8.30am, I thought I had bags (no pun intended) of time to drop off my stuff. I hadn’t wanted to let go of it earlier as it had my warm clothes in and I didn’t want to be hanging around in my protective bin bag shivering for the race to start (as it happened, I didn’t need the bin bag in the end as it turned warm at the start).
There was a lot of social media uproar the day before the race as the organisers announced that runners could only bring in a bag the size of an A4 piece of paper to the stadium. This really angered a lot of people who had already made the journey to Leeds. I didn’t see this as an issue for myself as I have one of these training packs I take out on long runs which you could squeeze a kitchen sink into, but I know for a lot of people it was a real problem.
Unfortunately, when I went to hand my bag into the bag drop, the queue was significant, and a bit of a hazard. The queue was so long, it was affecting people coming into the stadium and accessing the loos, which actually created some gridlock. I couldn’t see or move myself to the back of the queue because it was so tight, so in the end I asked a kind stranger if I could “push in” to the queue and he obliged.
I’m not out by the way to criticise the organisers Run For All – I know many of the runners already have. I do think that for the first Leeds marathon, it was very well managed, but there are some improvements that they could make ahead of next year - I’m sure they will.
After queuing for 30 minutes, my bag was dropped and I was free to go to the start line! I was so excited. I always worry in the run up to those “special” races that you might breakdown in your car and miss it, or that injury might prevent you from participating or… so many things that could go wrong. But standing on the start line means its going to happen and all you have to do is “just” finish.
Being in the green wave meant I was aiming for a 4hr 15 min/4hr 30 min finish, which was very optimistic of me back last year when I signed up. I knew that given the hills and the heat of the day, I’d be coming in at the 5-hour mark at the earliest, so I was quite happy to go back a wave if needed. I was actually quite envious of the wave at the back - the purple wave. They had started the ‘Purple Party’ brigade on social media in the weeks leading up to the race, and it really seemed like that’s where all the fun would be happening!
All my friends know how excited I have been about this race, so I picked
up my phone and did a short Facebook live video so that they could see I was on
the start line and join in with my excitement. I was emotional!
There was a young guy next to me and he was clearly nervous – kept looking at the floor, shuffling his feet, headphones in. I smiled at him and asked him if was ok.
“Is this your first marathon?” I asked, knowing that 50% of everyone in that crowd were doing their first marathon that day (an unbelievable number, which shows how inspiring Rob and Kevin have been).
“I only did my first ever 10k in January,” he admitted. It was his first marathon.
I gave him lots of encouragement.
“Think about the reasons why you’re doing this when it gets hard,” I suggested. I asked him why he was doing it.
“For Rob,” he said quite simply.
There was a bit of a delay at the start, but then Rob and Kevin were up and the crowd cheered. Then everyone on the start line went quiet. Rob and Kevin spoke of the marathon being a friendly marathon and if you saw someone in need on the route, to stop and check that they’re ok.
“Whether it’s your first marathon or your 7th,” Rob said.
There was a countdown from 10 for the start of the whole race, with the single wheelchair racer going first, then each wave had a 5 second countdown. It was about 10 minutes before our wave got going, I think roughly 15-20 minutes later than scheduled.
The song that came on the speakers just as I approached the start line was Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run”.
“I’m seeing him in a month’s time,” I yelled at some poor random girl excitedly, and she laughed back.
With a whoop, I was over the start line and as we turned a corner, we immediately saw mega crowds, 6 to 7 people deep cheering us all on! It was totally unexpected and amazing! And within SECONDS of leaving the stadium, we hit our first hill.
The temptation to go out fast was strong because of the crowds, but I willed myself to slow down. After that hill, I kept it at a 10:30min mile pace, a minute slower than Manchester, but I didn’t care how slow I was – I knew what was in store in the race and it wasn’t pretty.
We ran around Woodhouse Park and towards Leeds University. We passed the Parkinson steps where I’d sat as a first year Leeds Uni student all those years ago. Happily, the route went super close to the English Department buildings too which is where I’d studied and been interviewed as a (pregnant) ‘mature’ student at the age of 21!
I knew Headingley was coming up and that it was more or less uphill to get there, but only a gentle incline. I lost Usingh Bolt at this point and became friends with a lady who pulled out a camera and started to interview me! It was her 16th marathon and she said, “ooo it’s pretty hard this one isn’t it? Harder than I thought.”
I wanted to reassure her, telling her that it was downhill into Headingley, but I knew it was going to get much, much worse.
The weather (a sunny 19/20 degree Celsius) meant that the crowds were out in force and they were absolutely BRILLIANT in Headingley. I’ve seen social media comments which I agree with – it was better than London marathon crowds at this point. Those crowds were some of the best I’ve ever seen. Everyone was out. Everyone was out for Rob.
We’re about mile 4 at this point and I’d inadvertently sped up to a 9:30min mile pace so immediately forced myself back down. From Headingly, it was up. Up. Up. Up.
Somewhere along this road I was offered a piece of orange and quite a few of the runners gave positive comments about the healthy, refreshing option. I joked that I’d save mine for my gin later.
We got onto Lawnswood roundabout, and I marveled at the “luxury” of being able to cross it as a pedestrian. Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” was playing from a large speaker as we passed the roundabout and a couple of the runners laughed. We got up to what I realised used to be Weetwood Police Station and is now up for sale.
And then for me, a very poignant part of the race. We were about to pass my childhood home of 343 Otley Road.
343 Otley Road sits on a dual carriageway, just before the YMCA and opposite Boddington Hall. We were on the far side of the dual carriageway, running along, appreciating the fact it was flat. I looked over at my childhood home that appeared exactly the same, apart from two people I didn’t recognise stood in the driveway with their dog, cheering the runners on.
I had to say hello.
I left the race and ran across the grass verge towards the house. I gave them my biggest smile and told them I’d lived there between the ages of 3 and 15 and they were delighted to meet me! I’m sure in other circumstances they’d have invited me in for coffee! But I had another 20 miles or so to do, so I was quickly back into the race!
Feeling motivated, we went past Lawnswood cemetery towards Adel. We were approaching the part of the route I knew least, out in the countryside, winding our way towards Otley.
I did a body check and was pleasantly surprised that everything was feeling fairly good. 4 weeks before in Manchester, I’d stopped at mile 6 to walk and was happy that I’d passed that point and was still comfortably running. I noted that my pace had dropped to 11 min miles, no doubt on account of the hills, but I didn’t mind.
Given the heat, I knew to take water at every water station, even if it was just to throw it over my head, or cool down my wrists. This was a crucial lesson I’d learned from the hottest ever London marathon in 2018 where temperatures had reached 32 degrees Celsius. I knew that the water stations were every 3 miles, so I focused on reaching each one, telling myself that at mile 9, I could have my first gel. My stomach had actually rumbled with hunger at about 3 miles in which had been a concern as I’d not eaten as much as I normally do pre-marathon to avoid feeling heavy, like I had at Manchester. But this subsided.
For the race, I’d stuffed 4 SIS electrolyte gels into my shorts. I’d spent ages deliberating about taking 5 with me, but stuck with 4 along with my phone and wired headphones. At Manchester, I’d had lots of lower back pain afterwards which I put down to bruising from carrying a bum bag so for this marathon, I was going bum bag free!
There were Hi 5 gels available at some of the water stations (as well as tablets, although I didn’t actually see any on the course) so at mile 9, I took one from a marshal. Thinking this gel would be like my SIS gels, I grabbed hold of it and ripped off the top with my teeth – and sprayed half my face with it. It was more like a (berry) flavoured juice. I did manage to salvage half of it though and it definitely helped keep me going. (Later that evening when I got home, my husband had made dinner and for dessert he brought out a M&S berry cheesecake. God love him, it was the last thing I could face after those gels).
I became aware of a couple of guys up ahead. One of them was being sick into the bushes on the side, then was running on with his friend, passing me, to be sick again. We played this game of “tag” about 8 times. I did ask if they were ok, but I got the impression they didn’t really want to talk to me. I was wary at this point too as I’d overheard someone saying that they’d offered encouragement (“come on let’s get running!”) to a runner who was walking at mile 3, and they’d been told to “get lost” (that’s the nice version of the story!)
The hills were bad. We’d be running up one hill and then see the runners ahead of us running up another. Runners were joking and telling each other, “don’t look right!”
The heat was getting to a lot of people at this point and many were walking the hills. And then suddenly you’d hear, “excuse me, wheelchair please!”
It’s only been since the marathon and seeing Kevin Sinfield walk across the finish line carrying Rob in his arms, have I actually reflected on what happened that day. I kept seeing people in wheelchairs being pushed along by family members, kitted out in MND colours. People in wheelchairs with oxygen masks on. Then by the roadside, the spectators were pushing their loved ones with MND right to the front so that they could see the runners. And there were so many runners AND spectators in MND tops. Everyone was out that day for Rob. It was incredible to see how much inspiration Rob and Kevin had created. I still can’t believe that people pushed their loved ones around the course.
The country roads were boring, as I knew they would be. Apparently, Alastair Brownlee came out to cheer people on at this stage of the race but I don’t remember seeing him (I might have seen him but I’m not very good at spotting/remembering people in races!)
On one of the hills a spectator had dragged a hose pipe out of his house and was spraying all the runners. Someone yelled, “YOU WERE SENT FROM HEAVEN MAN!”
At about mile 11 (I think), there was a really steep part of the course downhill. I started to feel a sensation that suggested I needed the loo… but it could have also been my glute. I saw people heading off into trees and along public footpaths at this point for the loo and I agonised over whether to leave the race to go to the loo or just ride out the feeling. I chose the latter, which was the right choice, as at the bottom of the hill, the sensation subsided and I didn’t need the loo for the remainder of the race.
I really focused on mental race tactics. I’d got to mile 10 which meant I was in double digits. Mile 12 was the next water station and chance to take a gel (I took a gel at every other water station and used my own for in-between, which also reduced the weight I was carrying). Mile 13 was halfway. Mile 15 was the next water station. Mile 16 meant 10 miles left. Miles 17 was “that hill” and if I survived that, miles 20-23 took me back to 343 Otley Road where it was 3 miles downhill to the finish.
Easy, right?
I overtook a guy who was talking on the phone. I heard him say, “I’ve just passed mile 15,” followed by, “I’m not amazing love, I’m not.”
I yelled at him, “YOU ARE AMAZING!!!”
At mile 15 I commended myself on getting to this point and not stopping. My slow race pace at the start had really helped, although to be fair, I was still going at that same pace. But heck, I was still going and quite a lot of people had been obliterated on the hills at that point. I did a body check, my left quad was niggly and “twinging” a bit but still pretty good. I marvelled at how my body at mile 16 did not sound out of breath – I could run with my mouth closed.
But all that meant nothing. We still had “that hill” at mile 17 to contend with.
Everyone knew about the hill. It had been discussed at length on socials ahead of the big day. This is the hill that goes from Otley, up to Otley Chevin and covers miles 17.3 to 19.5. It’s a killer climb and had been a concern for everyone.
I knew it was coming and so did everyone else. The crowds in Otley were wild! Super supportive. But then they knew what was coming too.
At mile 17, I knew a MileShy runner (Gail) was out marshalling for MND and I saw someone who got very excited to see me which post-race I realise was her, but like I said, I’m hopeless at faces and names when I’ve got my “game-face” on!
I told the runners around me that when we turned the corner, the hill would start. A marshal from one of the local running clubs told us to hold on to our water as they’d started to run out… which didn’t bode well.
I should also say that from about mile 15, we started to see runners collapsing from the heat and there were a lot of paramedics busy on the course.
As well as one or two spectators bringing out hose pipes (you legends!), a lady had a table with ICED water and cups and I allowed myself to stop for 15 seconds so I could enjoy some of that sweet nectar before taking on the hill!
And then we were away. That slow, hellish climb.
For the first time, I popped my headphones in to get some music going to spur me on. The music didn’t come on though – I figured that perhaps all the water being thrown over my head had affected my headphones.
When we got to mile 18, another runner turned to me as I passed her and said,
“I can’t believe you’re still running”. Very few people were.
“I’m not ****ing giving up!” I told her!
I then heard a tinny noise and realised that my music had magically come on! I plugged myself in to the sound of ‘Cuddly Toy’ by Roachford and thought of that sketch with Alan Partridge in his car which made me smile…
I plodded and I plodded and I plodded and... I gave up at mile 19.5.
It had got to a point where I would have been quicker walking than plodding so I just went with it – no shame here! – and walked with the rest(best) of them.
So many people were pleading with the local runners who were marshalling – “how much further is it?” I knew, I had done this hill once before as a training run years ago when I’d been back to visit Leeds, and it was unforgiving.
There was some good support here. A local runner (Rothwell Harriers?) walked in-between us all gearing us up.
The finish seemed so far away to me at that point. As a kid, from Otley to Headingley seemed such a long way to me in the car, when in fact, it’s only 7 miles. I say that like it’s not far. It IS far. But when you’re training to run a marathon, 7 miles is just a little jaunt.
Every day, my Garmin watch challenges me to go up 10 flights of stairs. I rarely get to this, given that I live in a very flat part of the country! But before that hill, I’d already done ONE HUNDRED flights of stairs, and my watch was beeping at me telling me, “well done!” (It was 132 by the time the race finished)
Getting to the top of that hill was a relief, but I knew it wasn’t over and there were more hills to come. We clambered up towards Bramhope, then down through the suburb, an area I was fairly familiar with as I’d had a couple of friends who lived there as kids. But I didn’t see anyone I knew. There were still more people collapsing, on average I saw someone on the floor every half mile to the finish, with ambulance sirens around us a regular sound.
A man went past me juggling 3 oranges. I didn’t dare say anything to him in case he dropped them.
I wished there had been a water station at the top of the hill and I thought I might have missed it but the next one wasn’t until mile 22 and there didn’t seem to be many supplies remaining. There, for the first time in a marathon, I stopped and walked very briefly to take paracetomol – I wanted to test this method that often people swear by at the end of marathons. I can’t say it helped much with the pain, but then it’s a marathon, so it’s going to hurt!
I heard a guy behind shout, “Come on everyone, we’re nearly there!” as we started the next hill climb after Golden Acre Park. He then turned to his friend and joked that he was keeping it together, although he knew he was going to be an emotional wreck at the end when he saw the MND signs and remembered his brother. I felt my chest well up.
As we approached the Lawnswood Arms, I cheered on a guy next to me who had the words “M 75+” written on his back. I overheard him confirming to another runner that this legend was actually 77 years young (and this wasn’t his first marathon!)
The last 3 miles started at 343 Otley Road. Runners around me were again questioning the local marshals – “is it really downhill from here? Really? You’re not just saying that?!”
Passing Lawnswood roundabout again, I tripped (but didn’t fall over!) on an uneven bit of curved road which you don’t see when you’re driving it!
Downhill was downhill, but it was still hard going. I think a little bit of me liked the insaneness of the uphills.
As we curved through West Park, a guy started to collapse over his water bottle and three runners went immediately to help him.
I relaxed. I knew I was nearly there and given the support earlier in the day from this area, I knew it would be just as good, if not better at the end. With just 600 metres to go, I did something that would have been unthinkable at Manchester 4 weeks previous.
I took out my phone and started to film it on Facebook live. I wanted to capture everything about those last moments. When I rewatched the video on the bus home, I cried. (Then I saw the photos of Kevin carrying Rob over the finish line and cried some more).
People were cheering my name; it really was downhill from here, and I knew that the red carpet at the finish was waiting for me. I knew the emotions were going to hit me at the end and I knew I’d see the number 7 at the finish, marking my seventh marathon. I saw the Rob Burrow t-shirts in front of me, runners battling to get to the finish, some holding hands, some just walking, unable to give anything more.
I went to the loo, and collected my beer then found the baggage queue which was immensely long again. I then traversed the crazy cars piled up around ambulances trying to get through outside the stadium, towards the Park and Ride buses, where I queued again for around 30 minutes waiting for a bus to become available. I sat on the bus and chatted with a guy about his wedding in Las Vegas and my honeymoon there, then went online to order myself that hoody I really wanted to remember the day. Then I watched the video of my finish:
I am proud of myself and what I achieved that day. One thought that kept entering my head as I saw the MND runners was that this was not just about running. It was so much more than that, and I got to be part of it. No one can take that away from me.
I left Leeds that day feeling stronger and more fulfilled than ever before, back to the place I now call home. My bad memories from Leeds are now softened by being part of that day, and I’m so happy to associate that city with something more positive.
Thank you for having me, Leeds.
#leedsmarathon #leedsmarathon2023 #runforall #robburrows #janetomlinson #marathonblog #marathon #marathonrunning #kevinsinfield #mileshyclub #noonegetsleftbehind #mnd
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