Ape-ril

[marathondan]

1. Gorilla in the mist

Friday saw the obligatory slog across London to the Expo. I was already feeling excited about the big day - my first marathon for three years - but hanging around with thousands of runners brought home that it was finally happening. I'm fairly immune to the merchandise - traditional purchase of an official souvenir mug aside - but I enjoyed a couple of thimblefuls of London Pride, and found a sticker on the Brooks stand that seemed made for me: "This seems like an awful lot of work for a free banana." 

Saturday night there were the usual odd jobs to do: not just affixing running number to shirt and baggage sack, rechecking train times and so on, but packing sewing kit, counting out jelly babies, and testing the drink bottle for compatibility with the mask. Final carb loading came via a slab of home-made pizza, and I took an early night.

I awoke at 5.30 to overcast skies and light drizzle. Perfect running conditions. I cycled down to the station and joined 20 or so other runners, plus entourages, awaiting the 0638. I'd brought the Marathontalk podcast with me, but on board the train it seemed antisocial to miss out on people-watching and light banter with my fellow runners. Three building workers joined us at Slough, heading for a Sunday shift over at Docklands, and were more than a little surprised to see the train so full. 

The rail system finally disgorged me at Blackheath, from where it was a short walk up to the field for the blue start. Friendly marshals greeted us, despite the early hour and cold drizzle. Due to the train timetable, I was on site nearly two hours before the gun. The lack of sunshine reduced the carnival atmosphere somewhat, but there were still the sideshows: big screens with live feeds picking out runners in the crowd, hot air balloons preparing for launch, excited teams posing for photos... and a lonely gorilla, waiting to emerge from his plastic bag.

For now, I was well wrapped up, so I laid out my poncho and settled down in the lee of one of the changing tents for half an hour with Bill Bryson. I was amazed that some runners were already stripped to vest and shorts, 90 minutes before the off, and were now shivering under bin bags. I was aware that I would need a little more preparation time than most, so kept an eye on the loo queues. As the minutes ticked by I packed up and joined a shortish queue for that most vital of race preparations. Then it was out with the groundsheet once more for a final kit check. The costume had remained in good shape, so the sewing kit wouldn't be needed, so I got suited up with about 45 minutes to go. Now my arms and legs at least were toasty warm, and a few runners expressed some envy of the coverage. Bag dropped, I still had time to kill, so repaired to a changing tent to escape the wind, mask and gloves tucked under my arm like a fighter pilot about to embark on a mission. I stared grimly into the distance, arms across my chest, contemplating my fate and unwilling to make eye contact with my fellow travellers.

As the starting pens filled up, I finally decided it was time to don the mask and return to the world of the crazy people. As I jogged across to my allotted spot, I wasn't prepared for what happened next: people asking for selfies with me. This is something that didn't exist the last time I wore the outfit.