It all starts on the DLR. Giggling, laughing, nervous eyes,
tapping feet, sports drinks, cereal bars, large cups of coffee and the
intoxicating stench of Deep Heat. Anticipation, to say the least.
A rainbow of neon vests adorned with
charity logos, slogans and runners names. ‘Go Dave!’ ‘Shaz runs for Caz’.
‘STEEEEVE’. Placards poke out of the top of crowds as families and friends join
their loved ones in the precession to the start line. A gentleman in front of
me has a picture on his shirt of a tiny baby girl, in hospital, linked up to
machinery and surrounded by cuddly bears. Above the picture is the statement:
‘We Love You Sarah’.
There are fancy dressers, tea drinkers,
stretchers, soldiers, nun’s, running clubs and solo hopefuls. A sea of people
eagerly awaiting their 26.2 mile fate. The tannoy calls out facts and figures,
pointing out ridiculous costumes like the man dressed as a toilet and another
nutcase dressed as Big Ben (It turns out that his nickname is in fact Big Ben.
5 pints of lager and a wager with his best man and now he’s at the start line
in a very large and, I imagine, uncomfortable costume.) Runners are called up
for live interviews, giving opportunity to show support for their different
causes. A middle-aged nurse from Manchester has raised over £15,000 in a little
over 5 months for new equipment in her ward.
The beginning of the race is a blur.
Fanfare, cheering, more tannoy calls, Ant and Dec? Thousands of runners
swelling together down the streets. Bands are playing in front gardens;
onlookers are clapping, cheering and shouting. Children put their hands out for
High-5’s. A pub with a Halloween fancy dress theme (?!) and people stood
outside in colorful ghoul costumes dancing to Thin Lizzy. Brass band. Jelly
Babies. Rattles. Large steel band. Cheering. Sunshine.
I’m not to good in the heat. I’m not one
for sun worshiping and a short stint in the sun usually means a nice long sit
in the shade. Not today. At every water station I had a gulp and poured the
rest over my head and down my neck. Is it me or is it getting hotter?
The cold showers on the road edge every few
miles were now my focus point. I kept dreaming of stopping in the centre of the
shower and being passed a crisp cold pint. Oh that would have made my day. My
pace was good though and more importantly steady. I kept fuelled, I kept
hydrated and I kept running.
Then, somewhere around the
19 mile mark, I felt someone lifting my elbow up over my head and tightly
gripping my bicep! What the?! I then realised that he was above me. When I
looked down my knees were hovering above the tarmac in a strange,
crazy-Dad-dance/too-much-liquor kind of way. I was hovering above the road and
my elbow was up in the air. The only thing stopping me from kneeling on the
tarmac was his persistent grip.
“Don’t go down. They’ll take you off for a
check up.” I nodded and lifted myself up on his arm. “Drink this.” He passed me
one of the free Lucozade drinks they were handing out along the route. I took a sip. “Drink
it!” So I downed the bottle in one. He smiled, slapped me on the shoulder, said
“Good man” and took off! I was confused.
I kept walking. I then thought about my
gels and pulled out a gel full of caffeine that I was reserving for the last
couple of miles and downed that too. I kept walking. People kept cheering at me
“Come on, you can do it!” but it all seemed a bit distant. I kept wondering
what had just happened? Slowly I
could feel the Lucozade and gel concoction starting to take effect. My legs
started to work again. Trot. Shoulders and back straight. Move arms. Increase
pace. This hurts. My legs had gone to jelly. I
was still confused. I’d never ‘hit the wall’ before and was sure I’d had more
than enough fuel. This really hurts!
I then thought about a book I’d just
finished reading. In fact I hadn’t been able to put it down and read it cover
to cover. The book is ‘Running America’ by original ultramarathoner and all
round badass Marshall Ulrich. He mentioned a placard he saw in a marathon once
that simply stated ‘Blisters Don’t Need Chemo’. The image of that placard
bounced around inside my skull until my legs were turning over and my feet were
hitting the ground again and again and again. Blisters Don’t Need Chemo.
800m to go. Thank goodness. Eternity, then
600m to go. I was sure that sign should say 4. Come on. Keep going. A woman was
running with her back completely bent over and her head between her legs. I
have no idea how she was moving forward but she was and people were screaming
from all sides to keep her going to the finish. Runners were hobbling in along the road
edges. Dazed. Hurting. Confused. The sun had taken its toll. 400m. Keep going.
Keep going. Keep going. 200m. Keep going. Keep going. Finish Line. Oh man. That
hurt. Stop. Bliss.
The World Cancer Research Fund (UK) were kind enough to give me one of their reserved places for this years marathon and the funds raised so far are just over £1,200. There are still donations coming in and I would like to thank everyone who has supported this cause for the Virgin London Marathon 2011. I know that they appreciate everyone’s efforts and donations and I look forward to raising some more funds for their very worthy work in the future.
Thank you x
The World Cancer Research Fund (UK) were kind enough to give me one of their reserved places for this years marathon and the funds raised so far are just over £1,200. There are still donations coming in and I would like to thank everyone who has supported this cause for the Virgin London Marathon 2011. I know that they appreciate everyone’s efforts and donations and I look forward to raising some more funds for their very worthy work in the future.
Thank you x
