Olaf a minute on a Disney marathon
pack for the race. My hefty 1kg bag of Epsom salts, earmarked for a soothing soak, won’t be coming back with me. After a stress-free outward journey on the Eurostar, I check into the luxurious Disneyland Hotel and carb-load during an entertaining dinner at Inventions Restaurant, where Tigger raises a glass to my success on Sunday morning.
The day before the race, I consciously avoid thrill rides that might aggravate the dull ache in my lower back and drink water every hour to ensure I’m hydrated. Pasta, potatoes, chicken and rice clutter lunchtime and dinner plates in various permutations.
After my brief encounter with Paula in Cafe Fantasia, I’m tucked up in bed, bloated with pre-race nerves, by 10pm.
My alarm trills at an ungodly o’clock and I feel surprisingly calm as I shower and head down to breakfast at 5am with my runner’s bib, which entitles me to double helpings. Inventions Restaurant hums with the nervous anticipation of participants slavishly following pre-race rituals.
It’s less than two hours to the start, so I opt for wholemeal toast slathered in acacia honey, a probiotic yoghurt and banana. Outside, the lights of Disneyland Park reflect in the rain-soaked coffee-coloured flagstones. Paula’s gloomy weather forecast was correct.
By the time I get back to my room, western European’s population of butterflies is fluttering furiously in my stomach. My lower back feels sore so I stretch before I put on my outfit and complete a mental checklist; tissues, chocolate chip power bar, empty bladder.
Shortly after 6am, I join the tribal gathering of 9,000 runners representing 70 nationalities striding towards assigned corrals in the backlot of Walt Disney Studios Park.
I bounce to keep my muscles warm in the cooling drizzle as 7am beckons.
Giant screens broadcast words of encouragement from Paula, who is leading us out, before a cackling Cruella de Vil from 101 Dalmatians cajoles us across the start line.
I begin cautiously, mindful of the slippery conditions. Cast members flank the route, cheering loudly, and I can’t stop grinning. Shortly after the 1km marker, the downpour subsides and I queue for my first photographic meet and greet with Hades from Hercules, flanked by his diabolical minions Pain and Panic.
It takes less than 10 minutes for my unflattering close-up.
Two further character encounters – a fabulously fierce Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty and The Sheriff Of Nottingham and King John from Robin Hood – bookmark a comfortable opening 7km, which includes a trot over the drawbridge of the 167ft high Sleeping Beauty Castle.
At water stations, I take on just enough fluid to replace what I’m furiously sweating out. As we pass the 8km marker, the familiar geography of the parks is replaced by the steadily inclining asphalt of Boulevard de l’Europe, which shepherds us into the villages of Magny-le-Hongre.
My spirits are repeatedly buoyed by cheers for Olaf and Woody as spectators cackle at my costume, which feels heavier with each lolloping stride.
The route doubles back shortly after 14km and I take a greedy mouthful of power bar as staccato bursts of pain scream in my hips like a pair of angry toddlers. Somewhere between the 18km and 19km markers, which skirt Lake Buena Vista, my right leg cramps violently. I hobble inelegantly, hoping to walk off the agonising tension.
My calf muscle eventually relaxes and I return to an awkward gait for the final stretch back into the Studios Park, where I amble over the finish line, grinning deliriously as I bow my head to accept a finishers’ medal.
The next 10 minutes are an adrenaline-fuelled blur, congratulatory hugs, a hastily gobbled banana, a live telephone interview with BBC radio.
I shuffle stiffly back to the hotel. I run a bath and swirl in Epsom salts.
As I gingerly lower myself into the steaming water, I glimpse the lifeless puddle of my costume on the tiled floor. Olaf stares up at me with a reassuring smile, directing my gaze to tutu-clad hippopotamus ballerinas from Fantasia on the bathroom tiles.
The searing heat is delicious and I contentedly close my eyes to let my achievement soak into every pore.