The marathon is all about reflection, we spend countless months planning runs, clocking up miles, watching the diet (well some of the time) and praying injury or illness doesn’t plague or hinder our opportunity to take part in, what has to be, the famous marathon in the world. Like several thousand other people I duly entered the ballot last April, knowing deep down, or hoping deep down, rejection would come via the postman. Alas (phew) it arrived as expected. It turns out I wasn’t getting off lightly, work came to the rescue and I won a place in their ballot, which I’d entered as a back up plan.
Sunday the 23rd of April arrives, and bizarrely I’m not really that nervous, I know what needs to be done, I know I’ve not covered enough miles, so the plan is set, to run to 20 miles and then watch them build the wall, which will in no doubt cause me grief.
I’m in the red start, alongside Caroline Stuart, and some other bloke who was talking non stop, to anyone who would listen, so I slid the sun glasses down and avoided eye contact and waited for the race.
For the first 15 or so miles I had the pleasure of Caroline’s company along the route, both of us taking it in turns to grab water as we ducked and dived to grab water at each of the stations and passing it to each other, some great team work, which made the miles disappear a little quicker.
I knew deep down this was not going to last, so I said, my race is soon going to end up with a run walk strategy, so I slowed a little and watched Caroline slowly evaporate into the crowds. I’m on my own, at 16 miles, my longest run to date, I knew if I stopped now, it’s going to be a very long walk home, I pushed and pushed, then eventually the 20 mile banner appears, that’s it, I’m done, the next part of my race starts, 10k of intervals, well a run walk plan, two Parkruns, left.
As I start to run again, I feel sick, unusual, I take on fluid and grab oranges from the amazing crowds, The gel sitting on my waist belt is removed and promptly binned, I knew I could not stomach anymore gel, so I relied on water, Lucozade and the oranges to keep me moving forward, that’s the important part, one foot in front of another, keep pushing, One mile at a time, or in this case, one metre at a time.
Fast forward to Bird cage walk, I get a shout out from Nicki Watson and Beanie, which makes me move quicker, a shuffle, I see the photographers, need to look my best, I’m running. 800 Metres to go, that sign is a like a wall in it self, I can’t run anymore, 400,200 metres I’m not walking the last piece, the finish beckons, the medal, the friends who we all can’t wait to see, to share a hug, knowing it’s over at a last.
As I said at the beginning it’s all about reflection, what could be done differently, Would I do it again, (well we all know the answer to that inevitable question) I am privileged to once again run and reflect on what is an incredible journey through London.
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