Are you sitting comfortably? I’d like to
tell you a story…
You may have realized I have a tendency to
go on a bit, but today I make no apologies. This blog is as much for me as for
everyone else – I want to write down as much as I can possibly remember so in
future, when the details have faded, I can relive one of the most amazing days
of my whole life.
In fact all weekend was great. On Saturday
afternoon, rather than sit at home fretting and getting all worked up, I went
up to London again to meet some more of the Realbuzz internet gang in Hyde
Park, some of whom I had already met on Thursday at the Expo. On Saturday there
were loads more of them, most of whom were running the following day including
a girl called Emelie who had come all the way from Sweden with her Mum, but
others who were just supporting. It was a lovely afternoon and I spent quite a
lot of time chatting to the lovely wife of a lovely man called Gerry, who suffers from
a condition called Ankylosing Spondylitis, a type of chronic long term arthritis
which causes him considerable pain constantly. His challenge for the year is to
run seven long distance events (including London) – next up is a 50 mile “Two
Castles and an Abbey” ultra event in the Kyrenia mountains in Northern Cyprus. Not
only that but he runs in an orange Morph Suit! What a man!
My dress rehearsal went out of the window
on Sunday as hubby drove me to Woking station not Guildford. I hadn’t really
thought about it but the sight of so many people in running gear and carrying
big red bags – all heading in the same direction as me and with the same goal –
brought quite a lump to my throat. I
almost had a complete disaster at the station – I had removed my wedding ring
and my Mum’s ring that I wear all the time as I knew my fingers would swell up
during the day, but I wanted to keep them close so I put them on a chain around
my neck. As I stood waiting for the train to pull in, however, I realized that
the chain had come undone and the rings had fallen off. Panic! For about ten
seconds I was distraught, but then I found them nestled down the front of my
running bra! Phew! I tucked them safely into my bum bag; not a good start. I
chatted to a nice chap on the train, and then to a really friendly lady at Waterloo East
while we waited with about 2000 other people for the delayed train to Blackheath. I have never in my life
been on a train as crowded as that one; I was so wedged in I couldn’t have
fallen over even if I’d wanted to. Good job nobody suffered from claustrophobia
or panic attacks!
At the Blue Start I bumped straight into one
of the Realbuzz gang who’d I’d also met at the Expo, so we hung out for a bit
and she kindly took a picture for me.
I lost her after we had been to the loo for
the first time, but actually it was quite nice to have some alone time to sit
quietly and take in the atmosphere. I was surprisingly not nervous; very
excited and so looking forward to getting started, while at the same time
wanting every minute to last twice as long so I could fully absorb everything
happening around me. Then it was about time to head to the pens. I went to the
loo one last time – and almost had my worst nightmares come true when I came
out to find literally everyone gone! Just like that, the crowd had all
dispersed and I had an awful thought I’d fallen into a time vortex and come out
hours later and missed the Start!! But no, they’d just all headed off to the
start pens. I hadn’t appreciated how far it was to Pen 9, and when I got there
I was right at the back, along with Elvis, a giant coffee cup and a kangaroo…
I was so far back I didn’t hear the Start
Horn go, but suddenly everyone began to shuffle forward. I found myself close
to the Run/Walk pacer, but he was planning on running 5 minutes at 11 minute
miles and walking a minute, and I didn’t think I could keep up too many 11
minute miles. My plan, which I had trained to, was to stop and walk for one or
two minutes at every third mile marker, so that’s what I stuck to. I crossed
the line at 18 minutes past 10, started the watch and was off! So much after
that is a blur – you’d think 5 ½ hours is plenty of time to take stock of your
surroundings and soak up every detail, but in truth I was absolutely
overwhelmed by the people and the noise. I had tried to study the course map so
I would know where I was, but in many places it was impossible to appreciate
anything beyond the road in front of me and the crowds at the side; I am sure
many landmarks went by unnoticed, and many places I was completely unfamiliar
with anyway so I quite often had no idea. I remember the first three miles just
disappearing in what seemed like a flash, including a quite long stretch where
there were sleeping policemen every 50 yards or so, complete with Marshals
holding “Beware Hump” signs and yelling “Hump!!” very loudly, which made me
smile even more than I was already smiling. I couldn’t believe it when suddenly
there were the Red Starters coming in where the two routes merge and my first
little walk stop. Also walking at that point was a lady wearing a purple
PanCanUK vest like mine so we walked together for 200 yards or so and had a
little chat. Somewhere in Woolwich I passed the Huddersfield Marching Band
doing a sterling job – I do hope they all finished – and then I was past 5
miles and I knew my sister-in-law was waiting on the Trafalgar Road somewhere
at around 6 so that made me even more excited. By this time my face was aching
so much from all the grinning; I’d already high-fived half the children in
London and made thousands of new friends, if only just for a few moments.
(That’s one of the joys of having a slightly unusual name – I sure as heck knew
they were shouting for me!)
The only trouble was, I didn’t know exactly
where Trafalgar Road was or which side of the road Ruth and the girls would be
on so I got a bit anxious – though not enough to miss the Royal Naval Museum
looking remarkably well repaired after Thor had destroyed it at the end of The
Dark World! – but suddenly I heard a yell from my right and there was my niece
hanging off a lamppost waving. At that point I am afraid I committed the
cardinal sin of race day etiquette and swerved right across the road in front
of a whole bunch of other people (sorry!!) to reach them on the far side. I
couldn’t believe I could get any more thrilled by what was happening but I did,
and seeing them for just a few moments and having a big hug buoyed me up even
more and I swear I almost floated round Cutty Sark, where I remember passing
four ladies running for the British Legion who were carrying a life size War
Horse puppet between them. Huge respect! (I also saw, but cannot remember
where, the Wolverhampton bobsled team, dressed as Jamaicans and carrying a
bobsled – not a real one I hasten to add, those things are seriously heavy!;
several rhinos; several soldiers with full back packs; Bagpuss; Uncle Bulgaria;
a man dressed as Mrs Brown; a woman in a hospital gown with big plastic
buttocks and many others too numerous to mention. It was hard enough in normal
running gear with proper sweat wicking fabric, Lord knows how some of those
people got to the end.)
Miles
7 and 8 were just more and more of the same awesome buzz, and then I was in
Surrey Quays which I knew because my big sister used to live there, and another
tiny walk at 9 miles. Just before 11 miles I had a total surprise to see my
friend Debbie, who had run the Surrey Half with me, cheering at the side of the
road. I hadn’t been sure if she was going to come, and it was just the most
amazing feeling that she had bothered – we had a huge squeal and hug and
bounced around like eight year old girls with a new One Direction pencil case…
Not long after that, or maybe it was just before, who knows?!, I heard more
screaming and saw another of the ladies I’d met on Saturday, who was with other ladies from the Ankylosing
Spondylitis Society to support Gerry; they
were wearing bright orange wigs and yelling and waving like loons. There were
so many total strangers screaming my name that sometimes it was difficult to
know if it was actually someone I knew or not, and indeed for those few shining
seconds they were my best friends. I found that mostly they all loved it if I
took the time to acknowledge their support with a grin and a wave; I know I was
probably wasting energy but it was such fun.
God, I’m not even halfway yet…
Somewhere along the Jamaica Road I heard a
voice behind me call my name and turned to find Emelie, running all the way
from Sweden. Such a lovely girl, and we ran together for a couple of miles,
including Tower Bridge. That was always going to be a huge highlight, and to
have Emelie beside me as we turned the corner and saw the Bridge ahead was so special. We
shared a look and said “Oh Wow” and took a picture (I wish now I had taken more
but I was so caught up in everything I forgot…!).
At the far end of the bridge was the first
PanCanUK cheer point – I felt like a real hero as I ran past them all waving
pompoms and screaming and cheering just for me. I had missed my little walk at
12 miles in all the excitement and having Emelie to run with, but at the Halfway
point I told her I was going to walk a bit, so I lost her there – but thank you
Emelie, it was wonderful.
I was on The Highway then where the course eventually doubles back on itself, and I actually
loved seeing all the people going the other way. I had lost all concept of the
course and how much further I had to go to be where they were, I just was in
awe of how fast and strong they all looked. And to cap it all, the orange Morph
Suit flashed by. I shrieked and yelled and waved but it was more because I was
so excited to see him than in any expectation that he might hear me or acknowledge
me. He looked great though; well done Gerry, I was so ridiculously proud.
 |
| This is actually an official PanCanUK picture - they just happened to catch Gerry on Tower Bridge! |
I completely missed Mile
14 for some reason, and soon after the routes parted again I decided I could
ignore it no longer and I really needed to go to the loo. I picked the ones in
the underpass just at 15 miles on the way into the Isle of Dogs where at least
it was shady and cooler, but unfortunately the queue was quite long and three
of the cubicles were “unusable”… Say no more. So I stood in the queue for a
good 10 minutes, but had a nice chat with the ladies (no gents for some
reason!) around me, some of whom were already in quite a bad way. I felt sorry
for the lady who said, “At least there’s only 9 miles to go now.” I think the
extra two she’d miscalculated may have come as a bit of a shock! (So for those
tracking me at home and my family on the course and my poor Dad fretting that
something had happened to me, that’s where I was in that extra few minutes!)
As I emerged from the underpass I remember
coming up behind Karaoke Man, who I presume was trying to break the record for
“Longest Distance Run While Singing Karaoke”. He had a music box of some sort
hanging round his neck, a microphone in one hand and his words in the other,
and I ran in his vicinity for a good few numbers. It was fun for a while -
“Keep on Running” was a good one, as was “Delilah” but “I Will Survive” was a
bit much and I was quite glad to shake him off after a while! Sorry – I hope he
succeeded in his attempt and he made a lot of people smile but a couple of
tunes was enough for me!
I saw Debbie again just after that – she
had braved the crowds on the Underground to see me again, and again at 18 miles
in Canary Wharf (actually a short hop for her, three miles for me). By now I
was well into unfamiliar territory, and not just the streets. I had passed my
longest run timewise at about 16 miles, so knew I was being quite slow, and at
18 I was then beyond any distance I’d ever done. I was hurting quite a bit,
particularly in the hips and shoulders, and my feet were tired and sore but I
knew I was going to finish. At no point did it ever get dark enough for me to
entertain any thought that I wasn’t going to get to the end; just never an
option. In fact the last few miles, which I had dreaded as everyone said how
hard they were, passed almost too quickly. I found 18 to 19 very long and quite
tough – Canary Wharf was quite overwhelming with the noise and the crowds and
the sun reflecting off all that glass – but suddenly I was at 20 and realized
that’s why it had seemed so long; I missed the 19 mile mark!
From 20 onwards was a delight – painful but
oh so joyous. I knew a friend was at a pub at 21, and even though I didn’t see
her (and in fact she may have gone by that time, wouldn’t blame her, it was tea
time!) the thought that I might do spurred me on. Then I was back on The
Highway, where the slick organising machine was hard at work on the other side
clearing up but the crowds were still in full voice and amazing. Round the Tower
of London, gorgeous in the sunshine, and then I knew I really was on the home
straight and my family and best friend were waiting at Mile 24 on the
Embankment. That was all I could think of, just get there and it will all be
worthwhile. My little walking strategy had gone a bit to pot by now, I was
stopping a bit more frequently, and I planned a short walk in the Blackfriars
Underpass where I thought there’d be a bit of quiet. Hah! The organisers have
obviously decided they don’t like quiet so there were some massive speakers
blasting out “Eye of the Tiger” as I walked through. The noise was bouncing off
the walls and roof of the underpass and in fact I decided to run out as it was
giving me a headache! Then I was looking out for Mile 24 and the PanCanUK
second cheer point where hubby and son Andrew, my sister Lisa and my friend Helen and
her daughter Amy had been so patiently waiting all day. But at least they also got to see Mo.
I was an absolute wreck
when I saw them; sobbing like a baby as I fell into their arms. But what a
lift! I was determined I was going to run from there to the end, and what a
delightful surprise when the next mile marker turned out to be 25 – again I had
missed 24 in my excitement at looking out for my family. Big Ben said 3:45 when
I turned the corner at Westminster and I told myself I’d make the finish before
4 o’clock, which would be six hours from the Start hooter. Before I knew it I
was sweeping round by Buckingham Palace with the flag flying proudly and all
those people cheering just for me it seemed. The Victoria Monument and all the
flags were the most amazing sight in the sunshine and then there was the
finish. As I first saw it the clock said 05:56:and a little bit so I knew I’d make the six
hours comfortably (and I knew my chip time would be considerably less anyway,
it was just a psychological thing to pass under the Finish Clock before it
ticked over to 6:00:00).
The little bit after I got my medal and had
my official Finisher’s photo done was a teeny bit of an anticlimax to be
honest. I was on such a euphoric high; tears, laughter, pain, pride all mixed
into one huge ball of emotion, and there was no-one to share it with. I wanted
to hug someone special and share the moment, but there was no-one there except Marshals
doing a splendid job of processing us all and I wasn’t sure it would be
entirely appropriate to hug them. It was all beautifully organised and I picked
up my goody bag (so heavy – who thought all those heavy bottles were a good
idea when my shoulders were on fire!) and my kit bag, which also seemed to
weigh twice as much as when I’d dropped it off hours ago, texted my support
crew about meeting at the PanCanUK reception just off Trafalgar Square and made
my way slowly there. I arrived well before them, as they had got stuck the far
side of the Embankment, and was made to feel really special and welcome (even
though there were no sandwiches left) and actually I was quite relieved to have
a quiet moment to sit and think of my Mum and try and take in what I had
achieved. Having taken a brilliant piece of advice from a friend, I had my flip
flops in my kit bag and it was such a relief to take my trainers off and let my
feet breathe. (Though huge thanks to the guy in the Sweatshop who fitted me for
those trainers – they were awesome. Not a hint of a blister or even any rubbing,
even after all those miles in that heat.)
Eventually hubby, son and sister arrived, I
had a lovely quick massage of the shoulders and calves, and then it was time to
head home. The walk to Waterloo was interesting, particularly the steps up to
and down from Hungerford Bridge, then we were on a train (I may have nodded off
briefly) and home for a hot bath and some pizza and an early night.
My finish time was irrelevant, as I always
knew it would be. But I remembered someone saying to me on Saturday that she
bet I would surprise myself, and she was right. Not in the time I took
(officially 5:38:57 but if I wanted to I reckon I could get away with claiming
under 5 ½ hours if I take off the bit in the loo queue!) but in how well I
coped with it. My split times were amazingly consistent, apart from the one in
the middle, and I picked up after that pretty much where I had left off,
despite having no technology other than a little stop watch, which I barely
glanced at to be honest, and my internal metronome. Yes, I slowed a fraction
towards the end but overall I was thrilled. On the Marathon results page there is a
section with statistics about each person’s run – mostly it shows I was pretty
close to the back, but it does say that in the last 7.2 km I passed 779 runners
and only 12 passed me. Awesome hey? I was delighted with my little walk stops –
I know some people hate to “admit defeat” and walk a bit, but I know that, even
though I could have run more, I’d not have enjoyed the day nearly so much. I cannot lie, it did hurt - a lot - and it was incredibly hard, but so very worth it, and I have
bounced back remarkably quickly. So much so that I was a bit concerned that maybe that meant
I’d not run hard enough, maybe I’d not “left it all out there”, maybe I could
have dug deeper and pushed more, but you know what? It was never about that for
me. I had the most amazing day, I have memories to last me a lifetime, I have made some wonderful new friends, and I have a fabulous medal to treasure forever.
But now it’s time to get my life back for a
while before I think about any more daft challenges. I’d like to keep running
but maybe no more marathons. How could I top Sunday?
Oh, and Amy Willerton? 6:08:09… Job done.
(No hard feelings and I sincerely hope she enjoyed her day as much as I did
mine.)
