Date: April 21, 2024
Distance: 26.66 miles
Listened to: The crowds and a few musical numbers
I have purposefully left almost a week before trying to my order my thoughts about the London Marathon. I spent so long dreading and looking forward to it that when you have actually completed it, it feels like such a small part of the whole effort. I am not just talking about the training but all the administration and organisation that goes into getting to the start line and back home again.
We were very lucky in terms of transportation and accommodation. Kind friends let us stay in a family flat in County Hall near the London Eye and one of the same kind friends – shout out to Cath – drove us there and back. This removed all the headache and expense of where to stay, and how and when to travel. The fun bus (VW Golf) of Cath, Abs and us left Kingsbridge at 2pm on Friday heading to central London to give us time to collect our number the next day.
To say I was nervous would be putting it mildly! Somewhat terrified would probably cover it but I was also looking forward to getting it done so I did not have to be terrified any more! I wish this had not been the case and I could just enjoy the moment. Alas, this is not how I am made. My biggest fear was feeling rubbish too soon in the race and having to drag myself through the remainder feeling truly awful. I was fully expecting to find it challenging but was hoping that the hard times would not kick in until around 16 miles and that the crowds and determination would get me through. Despite the worries, I slept fairly well, ate my Ready Brek, packed my bag, completed the requisite number of toilet visits (four if you are interested) and was good to go.
Anyone who has travelled by train or tube to the start will tell you it is not a pleasant experience. Everyone is packed in. Bodies touching strangers’ bodies. In our carriage, we also had a man who was trying to supress a cough. At one point, I could feel and hear his breath on my neck. It was gross but I knew that if I caught a virus in that moment, it would not affect my run.
From the sweat box of the train, we emerged into the fridge that was Blackheath. A cold wind was making the really speedy runners, who tend not to carry too much extra weight, visibly shiver. The rest of us, with a little more flesh, were not faring much better. The timing of loo visits (yes, there were more) and putting your kit bag on the trucks had to be perfected to avoid getting too cold. You were able to dump extra clothing at the start so death by exposure could be avoided. All the clothes would be donated to charity so there was no waste. John was a smart boy. He got himself to front of his wave and helped himself to extra layers to block out the wind. He also espied some disposable handwarmers on the ground and made full use of these!
Having bid goodbye to my kit bag and fellow Kingsbridge runner, Darren, it was time to go. The mantra was to keep it slow to save some energy for the latter stages. This worked well. I had a few chats with some fellow runners along the way. Watched Exeter Chiefs Women’s head coach Susie Appleby scream past me early doors. Sadly, I somehow missed Cath, Abs, Lou and Gareth at the three-mile mark, and then my college friend Sue at the Woolwich roundabout, and also my friend Cat’s wife at seven miles.
There are just so many people. I was worried (no way Caz, you were worried?) that I would find the crowds overwhelming but I found them comforting and supportive. I had thought about not putting name on my vest but was glad I did. Hearing a stranger shout you on is seriously uplifting.
My next set of supporters to spot were my daughter Ella, her friend Neve and my good friend Mel. I knew they would be at Bermondsey at around mile 12. They even gave me landmarks so I would not miss them. It was lush to see them and get a hug. Having missed so many others, I was relieved to actually lay eyes and hands on my own peeps.
So far so good. I had to walk for the first time on Tower Bridge. I felt really emotional here, I bit like the Cutty Sark, this part of the race actually reminds you you are doing the London Marathon. It was real. It was little old me not someone else doing this.
Whether it was that rush emotion or the nerves finally taking their toll, I began to develop a stitch-like pain in the centre of my rib cage. I went for another toilet visit to see if that helped, but it didn’t. Every time I tried to run, the pain came back but I was strangely calm about it because I knew I was going to finish this race by whatever means available to me.
Lucky, I guess, for me, I am a fast walker. I often annoy John with my walking pace. My Dad was a jaunty walker. I think I get my pace from him. So I embodied the Dad-swagger and went for it. I ran when I could but powered through at warp walking speed for the rest.
In a weird way, it made the marathon more enjoyable. It meant I got to high five all the kids and tapped all the ‘Power Up’ signs. I could interact with people who wished me well or sang ‘Sweet Caroline’ (this happened a lot!). I could read all the signs. By the way, ‘Pain is just French for bread’ is not funny but ‘Run like your mother just used your full name’ is. A drag queen blew me a kiss and I caught it! I had a hug from a women holding a glass of wine. I danced to the bands and the loudspeakers. I smiled all the way, apart from when I was whistling to big musical tunes. See below for whistling to Les Miserables’ ‘End of the Day’. I could also appreciate and concentrated on the miles I had dedicated to friends and family no longer with us or struggling right now.
I knew my friends and family watching the tracking app and TV may be a little worried, but I had time to let them know I was ok and also check where other supporters may be on the course. I still missed Sian and Stewart at mile 16 but saw Lou and Gareth, Emma and Steve (who waited four hours for me – sorry guys). Kate (who finished two hours before me), Cath and Abs, John (who smashed his PB from 25 years ago – so proud of you), and Ella and Neve before closing on that finishing line. I had done it. I had completed the London Marathon. I was happy.
The next morning was another matter. I was tearful and disappointed. I had really wanted to go under five hours even though I had tried not to put pressure on myself. I felt I was not good enough and that I had been kidding myself. Even with all the training, I was still the little girl who would be one of the last to be picked for a team in PE. I felt foolish for even trying…for hoping things were different now.
In the cold light of day, I knew deep down it was not going to be easy. I was nowhere near as fit as I was back in 2021. I was coming off the back of thyroiditis last summer, two colds, and hamstring aches and pains while being smack in the middle of the menopause. I am not one for excuses, despite the last sentence! I had hoped that if I went off slower, I could keep going for longer and the crowd we carry me on. I knew I would walk at some point but not so soon or for such prolonged periods. I was frustrated that the mystery stitch had held me back from running more miles. I know it is an achievement to finish a marathon but I wanted it to do it my way.
I was also concerned that nerves had just overcome me and halted my progress. The London Marathon is a big deal, especially if you are fundraising. You have to put yourself out there on social media. Everyone knows you are doing it. People are invested in what you are doing because they love you or have literally invested money in your cause. But the payback is the crowd. The razzmatazz is undoubtedly a motivating factor. If you swap the stress of a large event for a smaller, low-key race, you miss out on the wave of joy that carries you to the end.
While proud of the £6k we raised for charity, I guess I am ruing the missed opportunity of a flat course and a supportive crowd to try to get a better time. I just wanted to be better but am still glad it did it and have the medal to prove it.
Since London Marathon day, I have run a Beacon Park parkrun with John, Derek the dog, and friends Jo and Simon. The niggles and stitch pain were still there but I could still run. That should be enough. It is a gift to be able to move, to be able to breathe, and to have friends and family who love you.
My abiding memory of the London Marathon will be the wonderful humanity of others. Runners are lovely people, and so are their supporters and the event volunteers, not to mention all the generous sponsors that make it such a successful fundraising event. All those people want to help you and push you on. It is overwhelming in the very best way. It’s a truly humbling day for the appreciating the goodness of others.
Thank you to everyone who sponsored and supported us. It means a lot.
Running for Dad 