I should say from the off, if toilet accidents gross you out, don’t read on. I wish I could say it was Herc’s toilet accident. The half marathon I walked with Herc at the weekend had a few surprises in store!

It’s called the Gym 2 Gym half marathon because it starts at a gym in Episkopi and ends at one in Akrotiri. Matt ran it last year, upping our family’s maximum running distance from 10K to 21K. Which means that if I want to keep up with him, I’ll have to run the bugger next year. But for this year, walking it was a challenge enough.

While I was cheering Matt on last year, I noticed a woman walking it with her baby. It was such an inspiring sight – a statement that having a baby doesn’t mean you’re confined to the house. So when I fell pregnant with Herc, I quickly decided that I’d do Gym 2 Gym with him after he was born.

I fed him in the Episkopi gym before we left and settled him into the sling, where he quickly fell asleep. I’m a big fan of baby-wearing. I find it so much easier than pushing a buggy (apart from in malls – the buggy carries the bags) and it allows Herc to be in the place he most wants to be – skin-to-skin with me! After carrying Goobie for years, I have enough slings to start a small sling-library, but we bought Herc a new one that’s specially suited to hot climates. It’s a Tula Coast Mesh Carrier that’s good for my back and good for Herc’s hips – he’s in the frog-legged position in it instead of hanging from the groin. Particularly crucial if he’s going to be in it for long periods of time.

Which I hoped Herc would be. The Gym 2 Gym was going to be very long and arduous if he refused to be carried in the sling. The key was to make sure he had his usual 2-hour morning sleep. If he did, he wouldn’t need to be fed until we hit the flat part of the course on Akrotiri Salt Lake, where hopefully I wouldn’t need to stop walking. Nothing was allowed to wake him up.

A deafening horn announced the start of the race. Herc jumped. I winced, expecting him to start crying. He won’t go in the sling when he’s upset and I braced myself for having to carry him in my arms up the initial hill. But I was in luck – he didn’t fully wake up.

I was walking the Gym 2 Gym half marathon with one of my best buddies, Katy. We have a history of doing things like this together. She was with me for the Cyprus Legion Run and the Cyprus Walkdown in 2016. We are both competitive buggers, so it came as no surprise when our relaxed 21K stroll quickly turned into a race to finish in the top half of the walkers – and to do it in 3.5 hours. While making sure that NOTHING woke Herc.

Not even a wee.

So here’s the annoying thing. I’m prone to headaches, particularly if I’m even slightly dehydrated. Before any run I have to make sure I’m well-hydrated. But I’ve never run for longer than an hour. Before Gym 2 Gym had started I drank loads of water and, thanks to the sling putting pressure on my bladder, I was busting before I’d even completed 3K. I didn’t want to lose time or be overtaken by fellow walkers by stopping for a wee. And I didn’t want to wake up Herc.

Enter the Silicon She-Wee.

After travels around the world and 12 Glastonbury Festivals, I consider myself a she-wee pro. For those who don’t know, she-wees allow women to pee standing up. Very useful for when you have a baby in a sling who absolutely mustn’t wake up!

Before we got to Kourio Stadium, I found a bush to hide behind and got out my she-wee. I hadn’t thought until later that I’d never actually tried to use it while baby-wearing. I hadn’t realised that over the bump of the baby you can’t actually see where you are pointing the thing.

As it turned out, I was pointing it straight down my leggings.

I won’t go into details about my desperate struggles to redeem the situation. Suffice to say, it’s hard to stop mid-flow so soon after having a baby.

I pulled my t-shirt low over my leggings and jogged back to Katy, hoping I was going too fast for the walkers behind to see my wet leggings. Good friend that she is, Katy did a reccie from behind and assured me that nobody could see anything. She also informed me that 14 walkers had overtaken us during my she-wee fail and we needed to get moving.

As we set off at our fastest pace, I was struck by a horrifying realisation:

SHIT! I’m going to have to walk 18K in wee-soaked clothes!!!!

On the plus side, Herc was still asleep.

As we approached the first water-stop, I heard a familiar, infuriating sound. Goobie’s whistle. Except now it wasn’t infuriating. After the shameful she-wee incident, that whistle actually sounded encouraging. Goobie and Matt were up ahead, cheering us on!

‘Matt!’ I said quietly but a tad hysterically. ‘I’ve pissed my pants. Please can you go home and get some clean clothes?’ I could change into them at the next water-stop.

‘Yes, sure,’ he said.

And promptly forgot.

Katy and I strode off, breaking into a light jog down the hill past Kourion, overtaking the 14 walkers who’d got ahead of us during my wee-stop.

We were back on track.

We walked along the M1 for a while and, twenty minutes later, turned right onto a farm track. This led us 7K through the edges of Akrotiri Salt Lake. There was little shelter from the sun but it was flat and there was a refreshing breeze – good for wee-drying. Light reflected off pockets of water left by the torrential rains of the previous week.

Soon the runners, who’d set off an hour later, started passing us, shouting back words of encouragement. Thankfully I didn’t hear anyone say ‘OMG, what’s that smell of piss??!!’ I felt a bit paranoid about smelling like an old bag-lady. But after an incident a few years ago involving wine, an Example gig, insane jumping and the Rolling Stones, I knew that wee doesn’t actually start smelling for a few hours.

Katy, on the other hand, was having problems of her own.

‘God, I can’t stop ITCHING!!’

Apparently her body wasn’t too happy about being asked to walk so far so early in the morning and her circulation system was kicking off, making her whole body unbearably itchy.

So we continued onward. The intrepid trio. One asleep, one in wee-soaked leggings and one trying hard to scratch her bum without anyone noticing. God knows what the walkers behind thought.

As it turned out, the walkers behind became our main distraction on this long, flat stretch across the salt lake. We hadn’t a clue how far we’d come and so our main motivation was making sure the people behind didn’t overtake us.

As we passed the giant aerials that mar the landscape, Herc woke up, bang on schedule while we were walking the easiest part of the route. Since it was easy-going, I fed him on the move, slowing down only to get him latched on. The walkers behind us took advantage of our lapse in speed (so I thought!) and overtook. They enjoyed their place in front of us for a whole two minutes before we scooted past them, Herc trying hard to stay latched on as I lolloped forward.

Breastfeeding can make me feel dozy. I couldn’t let a breastfeeding doze set us back. We could now see Akrotiri in the distance and our 3.5 hour deadline was drawing nearer.

It was on this final part of the salt lake walk that we were faced with a moral quandary. We’d been drinking water that we’d picked up at the previous water-stop and were now carrying empty bottles.  We needed to ditch them so that we had free hands for holding full ones. The runners who shot past threw their empties on the floor with a certain dramatic flair. Doing that when you’re walking doesn’t look quite so dramatic. It looks more like wilful littering. We knew that the bottles were all going to be cleared up at the end of the event, but still, we couldn’t throw ours away. Years of having Do Not Litter! drilled into us. I considered putting mine gently and consciously on the ground to show I wasn’t littering, but just leaving it for collection later. I would have written a note if I’d had a pen.

In the end, Katy came up with the perfect solution. She pretended to be a runner for a few metres, tossing her bottle dramatically as she went.

Sorted.

As we came off the salt lake and started walking up Aki strip, we realised that our 3.5 hour deadline was going to be hard to achieve. Herc had finished feeding and, surprisingly, went back to sleep in the sling. We decided now was the time for the Hard Push.

And it was bloody hard. I’d brought along a small Neal’s Yard spray bottle which I’d filled with Fichera, a fire spirit that I’d bought up Mount Etna in Sicily last year. I hadn’t been able to drink it then because I was pregnant and was saving it for a special occasion. The final stretch of the Gym 2 Gym was meant to be that special occasion. A few sprays of the 70% spirit was meant to give us a final celebratory boost to the finish line.

Not a chance.

I didn’t feel celebratory as we neared the end. I felt knackered. I was surprised. After all, we were only walking. But the extra weight from the sling was giving my glutes hell. I sucked on an energy gel as we walked on and on along a road that just didn’t want to end. The clock was ticking. Our deadline was 20 minutes away.

15 minutes.

10.

‘We aren’t going to make it.’ I gasped.

‘We are!’ Katy said cheerfully. She had a lot more energy than me. That’s what an itchy bum will do for you.

We jogged down the final hill, me holding Herc’s head securely against my chest. He grumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake up. The jogging took some pressure off the walking muscles and made things easier for a while.

I had 2% of my energy left. 1% was used to make sure the people behind didn’t overtake us. With the final 1%, I jogged/staggered across the sports field towards the finish line at the far end.

I could hear Goobie’s infernal whistle blowing somewhere to my left. People were clapping and cheering all around us. I felt the urge to cry. Incredibly, this final bit had been harder than the Cyprus Walkdown. Herc woke up and started crying on my behalf.

We crossed the line 3 hours and 26 minutes after we’d left the Episkopi gym.

We’d done it. Four minutes early.

One of the few times Katy and I have been early for anything.

A medal was waiting for us. Plus a boy with a whistle, a husband with a hug, and a bottle of Fichera that tasted slightly of Neal’s Yard face serum.

What wasn’t waiting for me was my clean clothes.

Did I care? Not really.

Did I smell? Probably.