Virgin London Marathon 2010

I turned up at Greenwich Park very excited and confident. The adrenalin was pumping, the rain had started falling. Great, I thought, much better than the 20 degree heat and blazing sunshine that had been predicted.

After failing to use the portaloos before the start due to the long queues, I rushed to the start, where my competitors were already slowly crossing the start line. At two minutes and two seconds after ten o'clock, my race began...

I started off steady, in a large crowd of slower runners. I met several other people wearing Victa vests, essentially my teammates. They were a pleasant bunch of people, and we mutually motivated each other along.

After 0:32:47 I had passed the 5k point. I was on a good pace. I was happy, comfortable and enjoying myself. I decided that I needed to stop for the toilet, as I didn't get to go pre-race, so my next 5k split was slightly longer. I finally reached 10k in a time of 1:15:09. I got back on pace again after that, my 15k time was 1:54:19.

But then things started to go down hill. My right calf was beginning to ache badly. Several times I had to pull over and give it a rub. The 20k mark was on Tower Bridge, and I reached it in a time of 2:37:47. Nine minutes later I reached the half way mark. But that was it for my calf, I could not run on it after that. I was forced to limp and hobble on.

As I struggled along, the crowd tried their best to motivate me, to keep me going. But my head was dropping, the clocks kept ticking, and my confidence was fading away. My 25k time was 3:33:14, and nearly an hour later I reached 30k in 4:25:46.

The sun was now shining, and the temperature was climbing, but I could hardly walk after 19 miles, 6 of which I had been limping, and I struggled over to the St John's Ambulance personnel, ready to retire from the race. A young woman gave my sore legs a massage and encouraged me to go on, for at least another half mile to the next ambulance station to see if the massage had made things any easier, and reluctantly I took her advice and carried on.

As I struggled on, I became aware that the massage had helped loosen the aching muscles, and I was able to walk without limping. I ignored the next ambulance station and kept going.

Very soon I came across a runner in a rhino costume. I had seen him hours ago, between miles 6 and 7, and at that time I had told myself that I was determined to beat him. That determination came back. The guy in the rhino costume could not be allowed to beat me. I sped my walking up so that I could overtake him. A short while later I reached 35k, 5:22:44.

By this point, everyone around me was struggling with injuries or fatigue. We were all walking or limping, apart from a pirate who steamed past us all. These were people that I would have easily beaten if I didn't get injured myself. But the crowd were behind them, every runner with their names printed on their vests were getting rallied by the onlooking crowd. My name was nowhere to be seen, nobody was cheering me on. This spurred me on even more.

Then I finally got some support of my own. Victa, the charity I was running for, had a cheering point just shy of the 22 Mile mark, across the road from where I injured myself. There was only four people left here, but they were so pleased to see me, and I them. Their cheering put a smile on my face, and some of my confidence came back. I was now hopeful again.

Soon, calls of "Come on Rhino" came from somewhere ahead of me. Another rhino. Another rhino that I could not let beat me. I caught up with him, and that pirate was now limping beside him. I passed them both. Now there was only 3 miles to go.

In sheer disbelief I turned the corner into the Embankment. The crowds were larger and louder. I was exhausted, but the adrenalin rush was back. I passed a blindfolded runner who was being led by a friend in a dog costume, and then a man dressed as a lion. He was another runner I had seen early on and told myself that I would beat him to the finish. 40k, 6:08:55.

I kept going. Parliament Square came and went. Buckingham Palace lay before me. The finish was nearly in sight. I was walking very fast, I must have looked very silly, but I no longer cared what I looked like, or what the crowd thought of me. I had done 26 miles, and there was the Finish Line, straight ahead.

I bit my lip. I took a deep breath. This was it, my moment of glory... I ran to the line, my legs were aching beneath me, but I didn't stop until I made it over that line.

I got to the finish, I got a medal, and I've got a personal best time to beat next year. The shame and humiliation that I felt when I was limping and giving up on the Isle of Dogs was now long gone, and replaced with pride and elation that I had finished. I'm a marathoner, and my personal best time is 6 hours, 27 minutes and 52 seconds.

Next year I will beat that time. You just wait and see.

Peace and Love
xx

PS: I must thank the young woman from the St John's Ambulance station who gave me that massage. Without it, I would have not been able to finish. You made the last 7 miles possible, and I am eternally grateful. Thank you.

I Have An Interview!

Unfortunately it's not in New York...

It's in the village of Heathfield in East Sussex, which doesn't have it's own train station and therefore won't be easy to get to, but that won't stop me going. I've spoken to a girl who will be interviewing me and she's impressed by my enthusiasm, so that's a good and encouraging start.

I'll hopefully be able to view a few apartments while I'm there, because there's no way I'll be able to commute. It looks like a nice place on Google Maps, and certainly an affordable place to live.

Peace and Love
xx