Moonwalk - done

I would be lying if I thought it would be easy, but nothing could really prepare me for the physical and emotional rollercoaster that was the Moonwalk.

Ready and raring to go: my mum and I at Moonwalk city

When I first signed up for the 26.2 mile overnight walk for breast cancer I didn’t realise what I had in store.

Sure it’s a marathon but it wasn’t like I was running it, essentially it’s just a long walk…right?

Wrong, very wrong.

It took my mum and I just over eight hours (including loo stops!) to complete the gruelling course around central London.

As the clock ticked over to 11.25pm we set off, marching with speed and determination with a crowd of 14,000 other women and the odd chap.

The atmosphere was fantastic and my stomach fluttered with excitement.

After all the training and preparation and agonising over decorating the bra, the moment had finally come.

Setting off through Hyde Park in the dark the miles seemed to tick over quite quickly.

Spectators cheered and shouted words of encouragement while boozed up party-goers clapped and raised their glasses to us.

As we passed a kebab shop in London Bridge blasting ‘We are Family’ at full volume its owners and customers danced wildly, gesturing to us to keep going.

At mile 10, as the Half-Mooners split off to head to their finish point, we continued on along the river by the light of the moon, feeling surprisingly good.

It wasn’t until we wound around the streets of Kensington and Chelsea at about 5 in the morning that things started to get really tough.

Well-wishers and friendly drunks had vanished and most of the city was asleep.

We had walked 18 miles, a massive achievement anyway but we still had more than 8 miles to go.

I was feeling okay, I ached all over but I still had reserves, while my mum had well and truly hit the wall.

My friend Gemma had by then reached the point where if she slowed down she might not get going again so we watched as she vanished into the crowd ahead.

Giving my mum words of encouragement while trying to maintain I was fine and not struggling at all (obviously not true), we reached the last stretch, entering Hyde Park for the final three miles.

By this point we were barely walking, I think hobbling would better describe our state.

And that final mile…wow. I felt like a fatigued adventurer trekking through the desert, looking for an oasis in the wilderness.

The road stretched on and on ahead of us and as the finish line failed to materialise, it really felt like there was no end in sight.

And then like a mirage, there it was.

I put my arm around my mum’s shoulder, the emotion surging in my chest, tears welling in my eyes, and with the biggest, weariest smiles we crossed the line.

The sense of achievement and pride in what we had just done was overwhelming.

Nearly 12 hours on I still feel a bit wobbly when I think of that moment.

Yes, my feet look like that of an 85-year-old – red, blistered and swollen – my legs are stiff and aching and when I get up I resemble the Ascent of Man in 3D, but we did it!

We made it!

And I couldn’t have done it without the support of all my brilliant friends and family, from coming out on training walks with me to giving me a leg rub after them (thanks Jon!) and of course by digging deep to sponsor me.

I’m so proud of myself, but mainly of my mum – you are amazing!

Emotional: Mum and I crossing the line

I’ve now raised £360 for a vital cause so thanks so much to everyone who has donated, without your money this whole thing would have been pointless.

If you haven’t sponsored me yet you still can here. 

Walk the walk

It’s been three months and more than 160 miles since I started my training for the Moonwalk.

And now the date is nearly here. In just five days I’ll be strapping on my hideously be-feathered and sequined bra and stepping out for a midnight stroll.

My decorated Moonwalk bra

Well not a stroll exactly, a walking marathon – yes that’s 26.2 miles – all in aid of breast cancer charities.

I’m not going to lie, I’m a little apprehensive about the whole thing.

Not just of walking around in public in my bra for all to see (feathers or no feathers), although that part doesn’t exactly fill me with joy.

No, I’m worried I won’t finish. ‘Oh don’t be silly, you’ll be fine!’ I hear you cry.

But what if despite spending hours trudging around London in the rain in my ever-so flattering pink mac, I don’t manage to reach the end?

The Wandle Trail

The idea of getting to mile 25 and having to bow out with a blister and a mild case of hypothermia sends me into a bit of a panic.

Saying that, there’s no reason to believe I won’t make it. I’ve followed the training plan to the point where I’ve got calves the size of rugby balls.

Yep, I've been all over the place. From walking up and down the banks of the River Thames and following the Wandle Trail, to traipsing up the A3 on my way home from work.

I've got to know parts of London I probably never would have visited.

Underneath it all I know I'll finish because it's such a vital cause.

Walking a few miles a week is nothing in comparison to what women (and men) with breast cancer have to go through.

And if walking for eight hours through the night in a bra helps researchers get that little bit closer to winning the fight against the disease, then I’m ready.

So too I hope are you… to sponsor me that is! Well this whole thing would be pretty pointless if I didn’t manage to raise any money wouldn’t it?

So if you haven’t already, please visit my fundraising page and donate whatever you can afford.

Thank you!