By Bex Hewitson

Two marathons, two cities, two weeks, two very, very different experiences. 

Chris and I entered the Zurich marathon after we’d had our hearts set on Rotterdam but missed the entry. Not long after, I found out I’d been successful in getting a “good for age” London marathon place. I knew I’d have serious FOMO if I didn’t do one of them so with encouragement from you guys who voted on my instagram poll, I did indeed go for it! 

After a 15 week training block I felt so ready to smash Zurich. The weather conditions were perfect, everything was planned, I was physically and mentally ready, and the flat course was made for realising PB dreams. With Pace-Pro set up on my watch aiming to beat my London 2024 time of 3hr 24min, I set off around the streets of Zurich a bit too quickly and had to have a word with myself to slow down as I wasn’t going to maintain that pace for the whole race. The route took us along the edge of Lake Zurich with the snow capped Alps in the background and the stunning view kept me distracted for a while. I followed my fueling strategy to the letter and felt strong all the way to 30km. Here the km markers had been put out wrong and I freaked out that my meticulous planning had gone awry. After a few kms they righted themselves and I relaxed again. We headed back towards the city and just as an added bit of torture, we passed the finish line on the other side of the road with 6km still to go. A bit more weaving around the streets of the city and it was back over Quaibruke for the 5th time and through to the finish. The crowds were brilliant in the main city and as well as seeing my support crew of Dave, Di, and Emily three times on the course, they were right there on the finish line to see me cross it in a time of 3hrs 17mins…smashing 7 minutes off my previous PB.

Once the heart rate had slowed down and some liquids were taken in, I was floating on the joy of my achievement in the finishing village; one look at Chris told me he did not feel the same! I had photos taken with the Union Jack flag, found my name on “the cube”, and rubbed Chris’ back while he threw up against a tree! The atmosphere at the finishing village was brilliant and we spent a happy few hours celebrating, taking it all in, and recovering with prosecco and beer! The training and planning had more than paid off. I felt strong and in control the whole way. My fitness and legs were my best friends and the wall didn’t so much as glance in my direction. 

Two weeks later however…

I stood in the Pink start area under the already hot sun, wondering what the hell I was doing. I’d enjoyed London so much last year and it was literally the highlight of my running career. I knew it had no chance of measuring up this year but little did I know just how much I was going to hate it! I told myself to be sensible and realistic with this race. I’d just smashed another marathon that I hadn’t fully recovered from, and it was extremely warm. I kept a steady pace where I felt comfortable(ish) until half way, just after I crossed Tower Bridge. It was around Limehouse that the wheels not only fell off,  but smashed to pieces and caught fire. I was overheating, tired, and struggling. The thought of how much longer I still had to go was daunting. As all us considerate runners know, you are supposed to throw your used water bottles clear of the course after a water station but several thousand of my London 2025 peers missed this memo and the inevitable ankle turn on a discarded water bottle happened to me at 30km. After a few seconds of panic and pain, I managed to run it off and continue. I saw Chris, Emily, Di and Dave at two spots around Canary Wharf and this boosted me for a short while. By this time the heat was really strong and as we ran through The City, the sun was bouncing off the glass buildings and made it feel like running through hell itself. I tried everything I could to keep cool. I took ice cubes and put them down the back of my sports bar, ran through the firemen’s hoses, and took water at every opportunity. Using every brain-fooling trick in the book, I managed to grind it out to complete the course in 3hrs 40mins…17mins slower than last year. To be honest, the fact I finished the marathon was an achievement in itself. The joy I’d felt crossing the same line a year earlier was nowhere to be seen. I felt absolutely wretched. I saw so many people succumb to the brutality of the heat and the last few miles were akin to a war zone with semi/unconscious bodies being rolled onto sheets of plastic and dragged off the course towards medical attention. My faithful support crew were there at the meeting area with hugs, full sugar coke, and then much later, prosecco. The train journey back to Newcastle that evening gave me the opportunity to catch up with fellow DVRC members Alex and John, and we shared stories of our mental battle with the event. 

It’s crazy how different these two events were for me, and in hindsight, doing two marathons in two weeks wasn’t a good idea. But I’d rather regret something I DID do, than something I didn’t. It’s taken me a month to process the trauma and write this article and I’m still suffering the physical effects of the day in my hips and ankles. I may return to marathon running next year…I did get a BQ time in Zurich after all! But for now I’m going to enjoy the local runs and races I can do over a shorter distance!