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The Reckoning
Ok, keep it down Mr SW don’t get carried away, glance at the Garmin - which unusually hasn’t gone into a sulk for being under trees,- yep. Nice steady 11 ish tempo will do for starters.
Omigod, we are doing the London Marathon, this is just surreal, lots of big hot air balloons on the ground over there, always fancied going up in one of those – random thoughts pass through my - ooh, that’s a nice house – brain and out of my mouth.
I am aware that there is a stupid grin plastered over my damp face, the grin remained for 99% of the race. A mile in and the breathing has settled down, this feels good, the legs are on automatic, I can converse easily and maintain this pace forever (ah!). Priest at the side of the road is blessing us with holy water, adding his sprinkle to the dampness produced by the constant drizzle– strangely this act seemed rather appropriate – I’m an atheist so why should I think this??
The miles start to roll beneath our feet. The three starts have now merged somewhere but I’m not aware of it,all I’m aware of is Mr SW beside me, the enormous goodwill of the crowds here in South London and the absolutely fantastic time I’m having, laughter keeps bubbling up inside me, I’m a 54 year old female marathon virgin and I’m having a ball.
There are some wonderful Japanese drummers on a roundabout at about the 6 mile mark, the sound is insistent and penetrating, just following this there are some supporters from my charity outside a pub which is pulsating to some earthy rock beats. We see and pass Steve Redgrave, who returns my “Hi” with one of his own, he’s a mountain of a man, a 5 times Olympic gold medal winner and we’ve passed him!!! We also pass Sarah the “lady” from the BBC Run for Glory programme.
The legs are feeling good, the running feels smooth and effortless, my Garmin is keeping our pace on track. I optimistically picked up a pre 5 hour wrist band at the expo yesterday, am amazed to find that as the 7th 8t, 9th mile marker goes by we are still well within the time slots.
I cannot get over the enthusiasm of the crowd, It’s pouring down with rain and yet still the good will flows. I do my best to acknowledge everyone who shouts my name, I high five the kids, I sing along to the bands, I’m not running it, I’m living it. “Will you stop singing and conserve some energy, it’s still a long way to go” was the message from Mr SW when we have been running 12 miles or so, not enough to dampen my mood, I carry on regardless and then, we round a corner and there it is…
Tower Bridge –
Mr SW summed it up with his “This is magnificent” and so it was, we both have tears in our eyes, why? Who knows, it just sort of hits you like that. There are flags of St George everywhere, I feel English, I feel my London roots, I feel my Mother’s ghost alongside me, I have rarely felt more alive.
It is half way, OK, there is still another half to go, take a little while to register this in my mind and then let it go, it doesn’t matter at this stage, we discuss it a little longer, the consensus is “We’ll do this”.
I had joined a support group on the RW forum, Support Group 5, they were to be there for us at Mudchute, with extra jelly babies if required. I held this thought in mind and just kept going We hadn’t walked through the water or food stations by this point . I was slurping SIS gels every 3-5 miles and was having sips of water and lucozade sport supplemented with jelly babies from Mr SW’s stash. I had made myself a back pocket for gels stiched on to my ¾ tights, I don’t like wearing bum bags or anything as I find them too restrictive around my middle, this proved to be the ideal compromise.
Some discomfort at about mile 15 signalled that I really would have to stop for a “Paula”, the loo queues were still far too long for me to want to stop, but as we headed through a light industrial/commercial type area I spotted a long line of bushes, perfect, did a quick detour only to find that there were several other women who had the same idea so had to wait my turn!! Probably cost us at least 3 minutes or so but at least it was quicker than queuing for the official porta potties.
Mudchute, what a brilliant name, no mud in evidence, but lots of metal service covers in the road which are extremely slippery, must be wary, couldn’t bear being injured now. The RW Support Group 5 do us proud, lots of cheering, and generally bonhomie, don’t need any more jelly babies, still got plenty left.
Garmin starts to go a bit mental, can’t understand it, find it has stopped altoghether at about mile 18, later discussion with other runners who experiences similar difficulties on RW forum suggests that it might be interference from the GLR, whatever, it was an annoyance.
I keep looking for my brother who has travelled down with his girlfriend for the day, but have no idea where he might be stationed, it was a wasted exercise. The crowds are even thicker here, especially in the various underpasses where they shelter from the persistent rain. Next marker for us will be SP and Nigel who will be with the JDRF supporters at about mile 22. Still feel in good shape and we are maintaining our pace, but I begin to have quite severe cramping in my legs, just before we get to SP and Nigel we walk through a water station so that I can ease them a little. It was wonderful to see you guys, I blow you some kisses in gratitude.
The calves are very painful, but I remember how it goes “Pain is temporary, pride is forever” We walk through the water staions from here on in, Mr SW is brilliant and encourages me all the way. We play nip and tuck with a couple of guys from the same charity, one of them is the bloke we met at the start line, he has blown his chance of 4 hours by setting off a bit too fast. We are passing lots of people, but it’s hard weaving past them. We pass Chewbacca who passed us at about 6 miles. We pull past and chat to a couple rhinos. Incidentally, I feel rotten now, I didn’t realise during the race that they have problem in getting water and fuel from the stations, if any of them are reading this, I’m really sorry, if you had mentioned it we would happily have fed you. The wombles are toast . but Rupert Bear sneaks past us when we are walking and we can’t catch him up. “ Don’t look” mutters Mr SW” “what, where? AHHH” I reply as we catch up a young man running in a leopard skin thong, I manage to keep behind him for quite some time before being told to ”Behave!” by Mr SW, mention to the young lithesome thing that he has quite made my day:-) my grin gets wider….
The Embankment, I can see the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye, I know Buckingham Palace is not far away, my legs are really screaming but I try not to acknowledge them. The crowd urge us on again as we slow briefly to a walk for a little respite, “You Can Do It” they say, the smile falters just a little, Birdcage walk is so long, I tell Mr SW that I really want to walk, he assures me that it’s not far, the 800 metre mark comes in to sight, how can 800 metres last so long, and then there it is, The Corner, the last one on the course, Buckingham Palace to the left of us, pick the pace up a little and there is the Goal, the Finish, the End, we are beaming, we run towards it, it comes up slowly, there are shouts of encouragement, At last we peep over the timing mat under the green and yellow arch, we are there, we have run 26 miles and 285 yards, it has taken us 5 hours 5minutes and 28 seconds for Mr Sw and 5hours, 5 minutes and 29 seconds for me(Work that one out if you can). We did it together. We have lost our virginity in style and in public. I’m so glad we did it together.
Medals on, timing chips off, schlep down to get goody bags and across Horse Guards Parade to change holding hands all the way (ah, sweet!). My bag must have been sat out in the rain my jeans are wet – who cares. Off to repatriation zone after foning my big brother. Congratulations from the charity organisers. Big hug from big brother who says he is proud of me – he has never, ever said that to me before.
Walk to Trafalgar Square, Chandos is shut, so continue up St Martin’s Lane to Salisbury, first pint of Hoegarten doesn’t touch the sides. Couple more big ones, back to hotel in Marble Arch to dump stuff then off the Covent Garden to eat and drink some more.
Cramps are wearing off, thighs are sore, going down the stairs is an experience. Eventually return to hotel and bed at 11 pm ish - still wearing medal am still feeling euphoric.
Thanks you Hal Higdon, the training paid off.
The colour of the London Marathon is always going to be green and yellow to me, not just because of the Flora logo stuff and the green and yellow balloons everywhere, but because of the fecund colour of spring, that bright, sap “greenery yallery” colour. – just thought I’d add that useless observation for good measure.
Note:
Many people mostly blokes have said that the pain of a marathon is akin to the pain of childbirth – believe me, it is nothing like as bad as childbirth, whoever said that must have had a spinal epidural!!
I haven't had time to work this up into any decent sort of prose, please forgive the memo/diary type format.
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