Sunday 24 March - The Twilight Half Marathon

Today is the day of my first half marathon.

I've been preparing for this day for twelve weeks. I've spent so many hours pounding the country roads and treadmill to increase my endurance ability. I've swallowed bugs, strained my knee, felt the daily ache in my calves and have sacrificed social occasions for this.

I am ready....

I stand with the masses at the starting line hopping from side to side to release the bundles of both nervous and excited energy bubbling away inside me. I've set my half marathon playlist so it's ready to start and tucked my ipod safely inside my new waterproof running belt. I look every part the professional. The list has 37 songs. 2 hours and twenty minutes of music for 21.1km of running.

We're told the race has begun as the herd starts shuffling towards the official starting ramp where our timing chips and running selves will be activated. Once I step over that line I set off at an intentionally slow jog. A mantra pops into my head. "This is your run, and no one else's."

When I see a race photographer on the course I throw my hands in the air and grin at them. In last years 10km photos you can see the struggle in my face. This year there seems to be no struggle. In fact I am seriously enjoying it!

This fact is comforting and along with my earlier mantra spurs me on. I pick up my pace and move forward, dodging slower runners before me to claim some ground. There's a bounce in each step and I smile at the spectators. I mentally set a new goal for myself. 2 hours or less. My legs agree with the goal and continue to propel me forward.

Just past the 7km mark the first few drops of rain fall. They feel refreshingly cool against my heated skin and I turn my face skyward to offer up thanks for this; when the drops turn to buckets and within seconds I'm refreshingly drenched.

Lightening flashes. Thunder roars. Suddenly we're running for our lives in the middle of an epic storm.

I fly across a bridge where frightened runners cling to concrete beams to shelter themselves from the gale force winds. I steady my feet and hunch my back, thinking only of moving forward. We're diverted around a large tree branch that lay's broken on the runner's road and it's the flashing lights of ambulances that guide us to the new path where muddy water fills our shoes. We keep running.

As I reach the end of the 10km track and first half marathon lap I am pointed towards the finish line by a volunteer who shouts an apology into the wind. There will be no second lap. It's over.

I'm glad it was called off and think the organizers of the event did a wonderful job of handling the extreme circumstances. But the amount of extra energy coursing through me after running just 10km told me that I have to try this again. And soon. I'll be competing in the Warwick 1/2 Marathon in just over 8 weeks. With a half marathon playlist of only 2 hours worth of music this time.

And it better not bloody rain again because the professional looking "waterproof" runner's belt turned out to be a sham and I had to lay to rest my trusty old-school nano ipod.

*This story comes with a huge thank you to my Mum and Dad who were over from New Zealand to support me (and also got drenched) and my wonderful husband who waited anxiously at the finish line for me after he heard it was called off (and also got drenched). The joy's of Queensland weather ay?!