We have one or two iconic runs in the UK. One is the London Marathon, the other, particularly for those of us of a northern persuasion is the Great North Run.
I’m now pleased to say that both of these can be ticked off my to do list.
On Saturday, after once again representing for a brand I love, Wemyss Malts and Darnley’s View Gin (and following a recuperative cocktail in Elixir Tonics & Treats), I hopped on a train with Mr GFB to head up north, to Chester Le Street, our overnight stay ahead of the run the next day.
Sunday dawned bright and sunny and after a suitable (fried) breakfast, which as always sat a little uncomfortably on top of my race nerves, we caught a bus into Newcastle, and walked amongst thousands of others to the start.
To call it busy would be putting it mildly. 50000 runners were on site, from the elite and super fast runners, to those of us in the lower waves, the plodders, the fun runners, the charity supporters. Those dressed as Batman and Robin, Wonder Woman, Teen Wolf and a lovely chap running for his son dressed as a Pepperami.
Even the close times for the pens were discarded as the queues for the loos were so long.
The atmosphere was fantastic. Electric. We were all excited and though we’d expected a chilly one, the piles of discarded hoodies, jackets and layers were testament to the bright sunshine and warm day ahead. The weather predictions were for a lightly overcast 16 degrees.
Oh boy were they wrong.
It took those of us towards the back (green and pink waves respectively) around 40 minutes to cross the start line. A sea of people in trainers, smiles in place, water bottles in hand, waving excitedly to the cameras and each other. As we passed, I excitedly high-fived Jo Pavey who had stayed happily leaning over to catch as many as she could as we went past.
We headed down the motor way slip road grinning, and a chorus of ‘Oggy Oggy Oggy’ echoed amongst us. We were off.
I was, however, a bit hampered. Despite training hard for this race and expecting to comfortably finish in 2 hours 40 minutes or so, I’d picked up a cold – and whilst I can cope with a sniffle or two, as I’m (mildly) asthmatic, a chesty cough is something that makes me rather cautious. And I had a corker – no amount of wearing Vicks Vaporub as my scent du jour the week before had helped, so I set out expecting to have to walk most of the way.
GNR is not somewhere you can, unless in the elite classes, expect a personal best. It’s too busy, and as the temperature climbed, well above 18 degrees and all the cloud burned off, the heat took its toll on everyone. I saw people being aided by the wayside, marshalls calling for water at one point for one collapsed runner, another being given oxygen and the number of ambulances was alarming.
Water stations were mobbed, showers were crowded as we all strived to keep cool and even those who had prepared to run the whole way were walking occasionally so they could take on more liquids. 
Little things buoyed us on – I spotted Denise Lewis with a camera crew and a slew of us waved as she excitedly waved us on – the crowds were fantastic, despite our tiredness, we high-fived kids along the pavements, and felt their encouragement.
Despite wanting to run the whole way, and knowing my legs could do it, I played it safe. Using a slow version of the Jeff Galloway technique I ran for two minutes and walked for one. I was slow, but even as my fellow runners set to walking, I ploughed on.
Finally there was the sea in sight, the air changed, the wind came in and we all felt the temperature finally lower for that final mile. People found that sprint finish, the lasy push. There were tears, there was shouting, there was encouragement to each other, excitement. That run downhill to the coast was bloody lovely.
And I did it. Three hours, three minutes and 14 seconds. Much slower than I wanted, but I got around. It’s done.
Unlike the London Marathon, or even Fleetwood Half Marathon, I don’t think the Great North Run will be on my list again. I won’t ballot for a second time.
Despite the support from the crowds being absolutely fantastic, and even though the offers on food and drink are fantastic for runners, there seems to be one huge down side to running in this particular race. The queues. Queues for the loos. Queue for the Metro. An hour queue for the bus (any bus by this point) to return to the city centre (and you have to pay, unlike London where runners travel for free), queue to get into the pens, queue for food, queue for drinks, queue for photos, queue in traffic.
It’s an amazing race, and despite the rather wheezy chest I have today, and the small hole in my bank account, worth it as a tick on my race list.
It’s iconic. But a one off for me.
My heart goes out to the family of the runner who lost their life tragically yesterday. Many were unprepared for the heat (including myself) and it took its toll on everyone. The running community is a supportive one and we always help and support each other, and I know everyone else will feel the same way.