Well, that weekend was epic. Saturday was pretty hectic for me (the curse of living a double life) so I entrusted my gorgeous guest Adele to the care of Mr C for the afternoon while I got some work done. By the time they joined me in the evening I was more than a little manic. The combination of tiredness and being utterly wired about the race the next day meant we stayed up talking for far longer than we should have. When we had to get up at 7 o' clock the next morning, I was definitely feeling the lack of sleep.
But once we got to the race starting line and saw everyone gathering and getting ready, my tiredness evaporated. There were hugs all round, lots of encouragement and laughter and daft antics. It was so lovely to see all the girls I haven't seen for ages, and to get to know those I hadn't met before.
It was a hot morning: I was feeling sweaty before we even started. The streets were buzzing with thousands of women, all wearing the matching Race for Life signs holding names of loved ones (and some awesome women who were survivors of cancer, racing for themselves). Reading those signs, or just registering the continual stream of them out of the corner of my eye, was one of the most moving things about the whole experience for me.
A group of us decided to walk the distance rather than run it, to support the girls who were injured. (Although certain people¹ were so full of energy that they were running circles around us the whole way.) Even so, the walking pace was a tight one - we were continually egged on by the crowds behind us, the supporters waving at the sidelines, the marshalls shouting encouragement as we passed each kilometer mark, and our own high spirits.
It was an amazing high. We joked and took the piss, admired the view of the scantily-clad girls in front of us (and aimed the occasional smack when a bouncing target was too close to resist¹). Whenever we saw someone we recognised in the sidelines they were engulfed with hugs and kisses from a dozen overexcited girls. (And if they were carrying a camera, we bared our panties in a group salute.) We all made that extra push to run the last stretch - and every single one of us finished! We were met across the finishing line with medals, bottles of water, champagne (courtesy of Lady Penelope - thankyou, Parker!) and a whole bunch of lovely people who had turned out to support us.
By this point, I was in serious pain. It was entirely my own fault: I bought shiny new running shoes which I planned, with the best of intentions, to break in while training. Now I'll be completely honest with you all. I didn't do much training. In fact, by the morning of the race, my shiny new trainers were still in their box, unworn. At this point, a sensible person would have worn her old trainers. But I was sleep-deprived, over-excited and partly on autopilot, so I did the utterly daft thing of wearing my new shoes. By the time I'd finished the 5km - never mind blisters - they'd stripped the skin completely from the backs of my heels. Who'd have thought I'd ever be a fashion victim, eh? But I'll know better next time. It just meant I had to wander around the centre of London in my socks for the rest of the day ...
... The rest of the day consisted of celebrations, celebrations and more celebrations! So many lovely people turned out at the pub to congratulate us. There was lots of hugging and kissing, lots of drinking, and planned half a dozen movies for upcoming shoots (they're going to be FANTASTIC, I promise you). I also did an interview for 'The Fetish Channel' (apparently) with Sascha Harvey, which I can't remember very well - I may have been a bit squiffy by that point!
Various people disappeared off to a nudist spa, and Mr C and I were halfway across town to join them before the combined adrenaline and endorphine crash hit me. He had to practically carry me home. I spent the rest of the day in bed or curled up on the sofa feeling completely naff. Still, it was worth it: and every time I look at our fundraising page the high returns :)
By the way, thanks to your donations, I've earned 28 hard cane strokes. That's an astounding £280 purely from the readers of this blog, excluding those who contributed but didn't want it to count towards the caning. Thankyou so much to lofty, Bob76, Hamish31, Cee_Jay, Spike, Al and (last but absolutely not least!) MarkF, who donated a whopping £100 mere minutes before I left the house for the race on Sunday morning. You've done something amazing, guys - and everyone else who contributed, well done and thankyou to all of you :)
The scene is scheduled for the weekend, and there should be a video available for donators, probably with a free clip or some stills for the rest of you. I'll be a lot less thankful come the weekend, I'm sure. But you've done your bit, and now it's my turn to do mine...
[1] Naming no names, *cough* Leia Ann...
