London Marathon is one of my favourite weekends of the year, it’s when London comes alive with running culture and everything is one big party all weekend long, but despite what I’d hoped this year I won’t be running it.

Three weeks ago, the day after my longest run of marathon training, I woke up and couldn’t put weight on my right leg. I’d had a couple of niggles the day before, but I didn’t think it was anything significant because hip niggles have been a pretty regular occurrence for me since having Evie and have never caused any major issues. This was different. It was like I had a trapped nerve in my bum. It was absolutely excruciating.

I booked into see the physio. He diagnosed me with an irritated sciatic nerve and gave me a 30/70 likelihood I’d be running the marathon. At the time I didn’t want to write anything off, there were two and a half weeks to go and things can change, plus I was in so much pain (as well as dealing with a teething baby) that I didn’t have capacity to feel much about the situation. All I wanted was for the pain to stop.

Figuring it was better to be injured somewhere hot and sunny we headed off to Menorca for a week. It was a great distraction, I could potter about in the pool or the sea and didn’t need to do a whole lot beyond eat and sit on a sun lounger, but the pain was very much still there.

I said from the outset that I’d give myself until the week before the marathon to decide whether or not to withdraw. By the time we came home from Menorca I knew what I had to do.

I am absolutely gutted that despite training consistently and consevatively an injury has sidelined me in the home stretch. It was always ambitious taking on a marathon just over a year after a complicated pregnancy and an emergency c-section, and since day one I’ve been quietly prepared that something like this might happen, I just really hoped that it wouldn’t.

I secured my place for the marathon through the ballot in 2021, a once in a lifetime opportunity that’s not likely to happen again. Unfortunately I can’t defer my place to the 2023 edition because I’ve already deferred once (I was a little over a month postpartum when the race took place last year). That’s the bit that kicks, will I ever get to run my hometown marathon?

With two days to go to London Marathon 2022 writing this post is bittersweet. My Instagram feed is full of pictures of people posing proudly with their bibs and my heart is literally swelling with excitement for them, but of course I’m sad I’m not there. I’m sad I won’t get to take on the challenge I trained so hard for, or to see my friends along the route, and that I won’t get to hang me medal proudly around my baby daughter’s neck at the end.

When you run you open yourself up to the risk things might not go to plan, and if that happens you have to ride the diversion. Now we regroup and rebuild ready for the next adventure. The comeback will be stronger. In the meantime I will do my rehab, I will keep an eye on the future and I will be at Mile 21 cheering until my voice goes hoarse.