Yesterday I shared how we were cruelly evicted from Moonwalk city and how I had lost two balloons (shocking). Now for part 2. Did we walk the Moonwalk marathon?
Get ready, steady, go. We are walking the Moonwalk marathon!
However, before I could dwell too much on the loss of balloon number 1 and 2, we were off and marching out of Clapham common. A sea of pink bras proudly on display (mine wasn’t as at this point as I realised my right boob had escaped). We marched confidently down the road. Whooping and cheering at the pedestrians and the cars who stopped to beep their cars. We were kings and queens of the road. We were going to smash this. THIS IS BRILLIANT.
“Have we done a mile yet?”
“Nope, not even half a mile”
Code red, we have a woman down!
Undeterred by the fact we hadn’t walked very far, we pushed forward. We were about to enter Battersea park (I think it was Battersea park) a mile and a half in and I heard the sickening sound of someone smacking the pavement hard. Lisa and I were at the front of the group and we turned round. At this point I muttered –
“Oh no that poor lady…oh noooo it’s Lou”
Lou was splayed on the ground after having unwittingly been caught in some sort of human dominoes game. She had been sent flying to the ground and gone over on her ankle in the process. It was bad. She could barely walk on it. She looked distraught. This wasn’t good. However, Lou was determined to walk/hobble and we decided that the best plan would be to get her to the first-aid at the 3 mile first aid station and we could assess what we should do there. In the meantime she swallowed ibuprofen and we continued forward at a slower pace. I really hoped that it would be an injury that Lou would somehow be able to walk off. It wasn’t. At first-aid they confirmed that she had badly sprained it. They strapped it up and Lou announced that she was continuing. How she continued to hobble the next 23 miles I do not know! I have always known that Lou is a determined and positive person but even she surpassed my expectations. She is superhuman. Lou for prime minister!
Where are the toilets?!
We continued forward, albeit at a slower pace and made our way down to the Thames. It was very stop, start here and hard on the body. We were having to often wait for half-an-hour at a time. Combine that with the fact you are tired and hungry and it’s not a good combination. When you start walking again you find your body crying to go back to bed. We were now all needing a toilet break. Lisa and I had managed to grab one when Lou had her foot looked at but everyone had taken on water and therefore we all needed a toilet. It was also cold. The cold means you need to wee more. We made it to the toilets outside Tate Modern and the queues were horrendous. The lady told us that there were more toilets a mile and a half away. That’s what we thought she said. We were wrong. The toilets were actually 3 miles away.
When we arrived the queues were even worse. People had been queuing for over half-an-hour. By now my stomach cramps were feeling really painful and I was pretty sure that my period had started. However, I felt too pathetic to hold my hands up and announce this to the group. I should be able to handle my periods but I can’t. I am a wuss. They often make me vomit. I am not good when I am on my period. However, I reminded myself why I was doing it and tried to woman up like Lou was doing with her ankle.
We made the decision to push forward and hoped that there were some more toilets soon.
Keep on moving
For this stretch we were joined by some drunks who decided to walk with us. I hated those drunks. They were warm. They were having fun. They were drunk. I was not. I was cold and by now grumpy and bleeding (sorry, TMI). We pushed forward and people started using bushes. That was not going to happen in my case. I didn’t fancy bleeding behind a bush. The mood started to dip here, well for me. I was not in a good place. I was having fantasies about Ryan Gosling tending to me in bed, mopping my fevered brow, placing a hot water bottle on my stomach as he gently fed me chocolate. This fantasy was interrupted by some members of our team caterwauling Bruno Mars. Now I didn’t hate the drunks, I hated them. Actually, hate is a strong word. I didn’t hate them but at that point in time it felt like they were torturing me. I wanted to be able to sing-along but the reality was that I couldn’t summon up the energy. How did they have the energy to do it? I wanted to be happy and singing. Instead I retreated into myself. Ignored the fact that I thought I could feel blood trickling down my leg and continued forward.
Insert the duffs here!
We have run out of time again. Come back tomorrow to find out if Ryan Gosling joined me on the walk. Okay, Ryan didn’t join me but something might have happened……