Tales from the Start Line - Marathon Day!

Owwwwww.

Ouch.

Pain. More pain. Stiff legs, sore back, sore shoulder (why my shoulders?), sore legs, sunburned head, the movement of an arthritic 95 year old with gout.

Why did I ever think running a marathon was a good idea?


Hang on - I'm starting from the end, not the best idea. Let's go back to the start - 6am Sunday morning. Actually, when WAS the start? Last year, when I decided to enter? Christmas, when I started training in earnest? How long is a piece of string?

Pre-race

For the sake of argument, let's start on Saturday.

I hate the wait before a big race. I hate the feeling of killing time. I hate the little ball of worry and nerves at the bottom of my gut. I hate the mental games, thinking through the route and wondering how I'll feel.
But I can't manipulate time (at least, not yet - wink, wink), so I endured the wait. Distracted myself with getting my gear ready - pinning my number on, calculating my water and gel needs, rechecking my transportation timings, all the mundane bits that you need to sort in advance.

I slept reasonably well on Saturday night, considering the nerves. And with a 6am alarm call, that was needed! Up on time, had my standard pre run breakfast of muesli, toast and tea and then caught the 7.16 from Staines. I was quite surprised how many marathon runners were at Staines station, and the numbers multiplied at every station en-route. This was just a taste of what was to come and Waterloo and Waterloo East though, as the place was thronged with runners heading to Greenwich - so much so I was lucky to squeeze on a train  - it was like some bizarre running version of rush hour, with technical t-shorts instead of suits and Marathon kitbags instead of laptops
(As an aside - whoever designed those bloody bags needs to try actually USING them for more than 2 minutes.....not best designed for comfortable carrying!)

Onto Greenwich then, and I joined the flowing tide through the park towards the Red start. It was 8.45am, and I now had 75 minutes or so to kill before actually running - such is the joys of a big raceday! Bag was dropped off, sanitary needs attended to (very important!) warm-up done and then it was finally into the start pen.

The RACE

Whenever I wondered what the marathon would be like, I sometimes thought about what could go wrong or make it harder.

Warm day? Possible - but manageable with advance notice.
Carrying an injury? Umm, not ideal , but again manageable with some Ibuprofen.
Garmin watch not working? Very unlikely.

How about all 3? Not something I had anticipated.......but that was what happened! The glute injury that had been nagging at me was still there from the first step. My Garmin quit before I even made that first step. And I think everyone realised the temperature was quite a bit higher than anticipated.

Sooooo - all in all, not ideal conditions for my first marathon. I'll go all philosophical for a minute though, and say that sometimes you learn more when things go wrong than when everything goes right.  Amongst other things....

• I learned that the marathon is hard. A lot harder than I had expected, even with all the training and prep done. It's just bloody hard. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it still was.
• I learned that NOTHING prepares you fully for your first marathon - all the training, all the advice and research, none of it can truly prepare you, until you've done it yourself.
• I learned that massive race numbers inhibit your ability to run at an even pace.
• I learned that huge crowd support can be a boost as well as a distraction - it can inspire you to keep going when things are rough but can be an intrusion when you're trying to gather yourself
• I learned that changing your strategy on the day to account for conditions is usually the right thing to do, and listening to your body is always smart.
• I learned that seeing friendly faces along the way is such a boost.
• I learned that a young lady at 25.5 miles thought I had "nice legs and arse" (true story!)
• I learned that Birdcage Walk appears to go on for ever.
• I learned that you should give a man with a fridge on his back a wide berth when rounding Cutty Sark in case he nearly takes you out.
• I learned people will make a phone call ANYWHERE - even while running the London marathon!
• I learned I can last 26.2 miles - just!

For me the marathon had four stages. Stage one was up to 10 miles, where I was feeling OK. Glute was causing me discomfort, but was manageable. I stuck to my original hydration and nutrition plan despite the changed conditions. I was doing OK, though I found a lot of the early stages a bit boring and far too crowded, especially when at points round Surrey Quays, the crowds spilled onto the roads and narrowed the route - cue bottleneck!

Stage two started somewhere after Mile 10 - when I started to realise I was struggling a bit. This was concerning given how early it was, but I could feel my legs start to wobble a little and thought I was losing energy. Took my next gel early, gritted my teeth and forged on - over Tower Bridge (which was rather cool, especially when loud shouting alerted me to the presence of my friends Katie, Al and Rachel). Down the Highway, looking longingly at the runners on the other side who were in the home straight. Into through the tunnel taking me onto the Isle of Dogs, where the welcome shade was more than offset by the stink of urine as many runners used the chance of some privacy to relieve themselves!

By now I was focused on getting to Mile 16 and the Missing People cheering point, where my family and friends were waiting. Seeing them and getting an encouraging kiss from my wife was brilliant - but after I left them I had a real mental drop-off. Possibly because my next focus point (21 miles as it was the longest I'd done so far) was so far off, I had a huge dip at this point, and finally made the choice to walk for a bit.

This was a critical point in the race for me. There's nothing wrong in walking for a bit if you then start running again - and using run/walk can be a quite efficient way of keeping a decent pace, without pushing yourself too far and blowing up. I was acknowledging that I couldn't keep running all the way to the end. In theory, there's no obvious reason why this was the case - but whether I physically was struggling or not, mentally I had convinced myself that I was in trouble. What they say is true - so much of the marathon is in the head!

Having made the decision to walk for a bit, I then had to stay consistent and disciplined. It was difficult to accurately guage how long to walk for without a Garmin,. but I walked for a few minutes and then ran to the next mile point, or (more usual), water station. This enabled me to focus on shorter goals rather than thinking about how far to the finish, and meant that when I did run it was at a decent pace - my splits for this section, while not superb, weren't that slow!

I did this run/walk for about 5 miles...through Canary Wharf, Blackwall and Poplar, and back round on the Highway (people were still on the other side of this section, with the sweeper trucks slowly catching them). Then, from just after Mile 22, I started up again and didn't stop.

The final 4 miles or so were, strangely enough, the most enjoyable section to the race. I felt recharged and was running comfortably. The finish was in sight, especially when I hit the "just a parkrun to go" 37km mark. I saw my friends Katie and Al again, waving frantically from atop a wall by the Tower, and fellow runner Ian Wilson around Mile 24.
Coming through the tunnel just before Blackfriars Bridge they had Bruce Springsteen "Born to Run" belting out on speakers = perfect for a rocker like me :-). The last couple of miles were amazing - a wall of noise and cheering, people shouting your name every few steps. I felt superb, and my supporters (Clare, Tim, Mandy and my sister Sarah) at Mile 25 were amazed at the difference in demeanour from Mile 16. My Bedfont Lakes parkrun bunch were out in force too a bit further along, and I delivered my "sweaty hug" to Becky Paton as promised.

Then it was into the home straight - past Parliament Square and down Birdcage Walk. By now my thighs were starting to burn and the 200m signs seemed much further apart than 200m! I was flying past people though, and the official stats said I overtook 1160 people in the last 7.2km, which I really liked! Round the final bend and at last the finish was in sight. Hands raised high in the air I came across the finish line, and ground to a halt, some 4 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds after I started.

I had done it. I was a marathon runner.

Me  - just after the finish :-)

Post-Race

I had made it to the end - now I just had to negogiate the post-race madness. Chip off, medal on, post race "goody bag" received and inspected (not particurly special btw - water, Lucozade, an energy bar and a cotton T-short. I met Jess, another Missing People runner, and we recounted our races and staggered to the bag pickup together. There were people everywhere - mainly prone bodies of runners draped all over the Mall. Exhaustion and pain were writ large in most faces - it takes a while for the feeling of achievement to sink in, as the immediate reaction is just relief that it's over and you can stop running.
I slowly made my way to the post race reception hosted by my charity where I met my supporters. Getting a round of applause as I walked in from all the Missing People group was a great highlight - reminding me that not only had I run a marathon, I had also raised over £2,600 for a very worthy cause. (Which you can still donate to btw, link here )

From then on it was a classic sunday - beer in the porterhouse, steak and chips near Waterloo and then a last couple of beers at home while watching the Masters and checking the online results. The legs didn't feel too bad.....

....until I woke up the following morning, and there was pain. Everywhere. Which was where we came in :-)