Today has been an amazing day...full of fun, laughter, emotion and friendship, and one I will remember for a very long time. Today was the day of the Women's Hydroactive Challenge in Hyde Park and I felt truly priviledged to be an honoury member of the Emily's Angels' team who were taking part in aid of the Cystic Fibrosis Trust. I say honoury because I wasn't actually able to take part in the race (I'd decided that being carted off on a stretcher half way might just have detracted a wee bit from the attention that was quite rightly Emily's today!). I had decided however, that I would do my part by handing out organ donation leaflets to as many unsuspecting spectators in Hyde Park as possible, in the hopes that it would help Emily trade her old lungs in for a sparkly pink new pair as soon as possible. Having said that, her itsy bitsy current lungs need a real moment of appreciation for just what amazing work they performed today, but more about that later...

Anyway, I'd decided that as an Emily's Angel I should look the part and had spent the last week creating my "Rainbow Fairy" outfit (well fairies and angels are pretty similar). Emily actually commented that I looked like a giant sweetiebobble today, which I was incredibly pleased about, because anyone who knows Emily will understand that this is probably the highest compliment one can ever receive. I had spent lengthy amounts of effort this week on such complex tasks as sticking coloured stars on my shoes, customising fairy wings designed for 3-6 year old to fit me (well why on earth don't they extend the age range a bit, come on...don't all 32-year olds want to dress as fairies?!), ensuring that hair bobbles, tights and wands all co-ordinated and even managed to whizz up a pink and fluffy IV line cover last night in a moment of sheer genius.

When I got out of the car opposite the park I certainly attracted a few looks. May be multi-coloured fairies don't normally make their way out of Vauxhall Omega's on Sunday mornings in London. I was busy in the boot of the car ensuring that my pink and fluffy angel rucksack (with its own wings baby!) was well stocked with organ donation promo items when a man approached and asked what I was dressed up for. Actually he asked what "event" I was going to, as if I might not just be off to buy a Sunday paper and a pint of milk. I explained I was going to a fun run (which made me feel seriously sporty for a moment) and he said "Oh right! You look very...um....bright". I'm not sure if he was commenting on my attire or my mental faculties at that point, but seeing as I looked ever so slightly loopy, I sadly doubt it was the latter.

Isn't it how strange that when you are doing something for charity, all the normal rules of behaviour can go happily out the window? I mean, how many times normally would I take off down a busy main road in a capital city dressed like an 5 year old off to a fancy dress kids party having being overdosed on growth hormones? Even when my very short skirt proceeded to keep exposing my pink-and-gold striped bottom (my tights I should point out, I hadn't had it tattooed especially for the occasion...even charity has its' limits....) every time a gust of wind came along, it was all met with a very relaxed and jolly attitude on my part "Ooops! Isn't it windy eh? I've just shown my bum to everyone in Hyde park haha!". I noticed other people sucumming to this "charity loss of inhibition" during the run itself. There were women running for Breast Cancer just wearing their bras. Actually, that's not quite right...they had clothes on the bottom half (think it best I point that out) but just their bras on top. If they had been sauntering through Hyde park on any other Sunday dressed like that, they might just have been arrested.

For some reason, when you are doing something for charity you don't mind making a spectacle of yourself or approaching total strangers in order to make the event worthwhile. I managed to hand out loads of leaflets on organ donation (each one with a donor card inside) simply by launching myself into peoples' paths, smiling sweetly and saying "Can I give you a leaflet please?" whilst making it clear that actually refusing one was not an option. I even gate-crashed whole private picnics mid-conversation by just walking on in and trampling on their sandwiches. You can get away with a lot when you look like a psychedelic bumblebee and are linked to a charity. "OOOOOH I'm so sorry about the sarnies everyone! Never mind, how do you fancy donating your organs when you go? No need to pop your clogs right now, please finish your picnic first. Isn't it a lovely day!" and off I would swoop leaving stunned looks, silenced conversation, a slightly puzzled people clutching leaflets that they never realised they wanted, but which they might just read and fill in after realising that they weren't actually hallucinating......

When we arrived at Hyde Park, we realised we had come in the gates right beside where all the participants were standing, waiting to begin the run. Despite having been advised to avoid this area as it would be congested, it was actually so well organised that I was able to walk along the pavement beside the queue of those taking part, in the hopes that I might spot Emily and her team of 60 Angels. Considering that there were 20,000 people taking part I thought this would be a very unlikely possibility, although I knew that this would be the section to find them if possible, since they were in the "walking pack" towards the end of the huge sea of people. Suddenly I caught sight of a big area of pink on the opposite side of the road. There they were! A very pink and very eye-catching group ladies, all sporting pink wings, tutus, and lots of other angel-esque paraphenalia. After much mad waving and Brad's calling across to them, Emily's Mum noticed us and everyone looked over. But I still couldn't see the leading lady as she was sitting in her wheelchair. I was determined I was simply NOT moving until I had seen her and - with a lot of balancing of tiptoes and craning of both our necks - we managed it and much enthusiastic joint wand-waving and grinning commenced, whilst we communicated telepathic hoops of joy!

We then made our way to meet up with Andy, Lisa and Rachel by the Diana Memorial Fountain. By now my little fairyfeet were feeling a bit fed up and I was exhausted. We managed to get some lunch at a nearby cafe and then Brad and I decided to head over to find the finishing line as we were desperately hoping to catch Emily doing her amazing walk of the final stretch for which she had been training so hard. It's strange how when you are determined to do something, you can ignore your body's normal level of complaining. I've no idea how far it was to the finishing area but it seemed miles to me and I was struggling a bit by the end, but I was so determined I was going to be there that I just didn't care.

We wiggled our way through to get a perfect view of the walkers crossing the finishing line and were just wondering if we could possibly have missed the Angels when suddenly across the tannoy came the announcement "And here come Emily and Emily's Angels! Well done ladies and well done Emily! Emily is in fact waiting for a double lung transplant and she and her team have raised over £10,000!" I screamed "Oh it's them Brad!" and promptly threw everything I was holding at him and grabbed the camera (thereby scattering organ donation leaflets far and wide). I could see a few pink ladies heading towards us but I just couldn't see Emily. Then suddenly I saw that most of the sea of participants had stopped and there was an opening being created in the road, with people standing back in preparation. And suddenly THERE SHE WAS!!!!!!!!! My special, wonderful and totally amazing little friend, dressed head to toe in bright pink, with her oxygen mask on, purposefully and determinedly heading for that finishing line. To say it was emotional is an understatement. Everyone around us seemed to be cheering and shouts of "Emily! Emily" rang out. A moment later there she was, arms in the air, crossing that finishing line!!! I just felt really overcome by it all. One small human being showing the world that she wasn't going to be beaten, no matter how hard things were. Little Emily showing that if she had made her mind up to be the brightest and pinkest fairy in the world and walk that last stretch, then she jolly well would, even if it defined all medical odds in the process. All I wanted to do was run over and give her a massive hug, but I couldn't so I just waved madly and took loads of pictures. That image of Em walking that final stretch will stay with me forever. She really made us all proud.

After a good rest, some restorative chocolate cake and meeting up with my Mum, Dad and Daisy dog, we then made the way all the way back to the fountain to meet Clare, before heading over to where all the Emily's Angels team had gathered for a picnic. It was really wonderful to finally meet so many special friends who I have got to know online but never met before. There was a wonderful sense of camaraderie and friendship, the sun was shining, everyone was smiling and we were in a beautiful setting. Then came the main entertainment show....Behold! Andy dressed as a fairy in order to raise another £600 for the CF Trust! Andy was a real sport and it was a fantastic element to the after-show picnic. It has to be said he was very brave and really entered into the spirit of the occasion...and doesn't he make a beautiful angel too!!!

Finally it was time for everyone to make their way home. I'm sure that, like me, everyone left with memories of a very special day. I always feel there is an extended family relationship between people with CF and their families. We are linked by the fact that we all share a faulty gene, that we all follow complex treatment regimes and we all fight a daily battle against a very challenging illness. However, whilst being brought together by something very serious and often tragic, we were at the same time sharing a wonderful special day of sunshine and laughter, team spirit and friendship, determination and good humour. It was a day that I personally wouldn't have missed for the world.