The London Marathon

Yesterday, I completed the London Marathon. I'm just going to leave that sentence hanging there for a moment as it's something I never thought I'd say.

The day started with a 5:30 alarm call after just a couple of hours sleep - over-excitement (or nerves) saw to that, but I managed to haul myself onto a train from my uncle's base in Surrey and make it to the start area in good time. The first thing that was clear was that one of the weather forecasts was right and all the others were wrong - the one that said it would start sunny and stay sunny all day! Thankfully one of my fello rhino runners had sunscreen, and I loaded myself up with my carb gels in the belt, and had everything I needed to get started, despite being described by a fellow runner as looking like a suicide bomber ...

Lining up at the start was quite an experience - I was right at the back with many of the more comic outfits - the fourteen foot nurse, the rhinos in full kit and the Spana donkeys to name a few. The most elaborate and difficult costumes drew standing ovations from the crowds as they funnelled in to the back. And once we were of ... well, nothing. Several minutes of slow walking to the front - the familiar sight they show on TV every year of the crowd funnelling to the park gates with openings in the brick wall, this year was no different, except it had me in it.

I crossed the start line at 10:08 so made the mental note to take 23 minutes off split times each time I saw a clock, and cursing myself for not crossing with more of a round number to calculate! Running again with fellow rhino runner Becki who kept me company at Silverstone, I was pleased that the first mile or two was unlike my usual long runs, inasmuch as I didn't have the usual discomfort or worrying about pace/stitch, I seemed to settle in just fine. I knew I was slow but obviously didn't care at this point.

Right from the start, crowds cheer you on, and there wasn't a single "Come on, Neil" for the full 26 miles that didn't sound genuine, or make me smile, even if later on it would seem like a grimace! Or more general shouts of "Save the Rhino" were just as well appreciated. Kids lined up on the kerbs, holding out hands for a high-five (or more accurately a low-five) - the highlight was a very cute little black kid who let out an "Ehhh" just after I tapped his palm that sounded more like the Fonz than a little London 6 year old!

Always there were landmarks to look out for, with apologies in advance for geographical inaccuracies ... Obviously first of all was every mile-marker and 5-km marker, but more specific ones inclueded the joining with the green/blue starts at 3 miles (a little anti-climax since most runners had passed - the blue start takes much less time than 23 minutes to funnel out to the start as I found out today rewatching the coverage).

Cutty Sark was at six miles, where still high on the buzz of the occasion I made a complete idiot of myself. Seeing Matt Baker, former Blue Peter presenter and now part of BBC Sport, at roadside with a microphone scanning for potential interviewees, I shouted something along the lines of "Ooh, famous person who used to be on Blue Peter" at him as I went past. His fixed smile was a picture, and if there were security marshalls there I would probably have been carted off! Any other time I would never have said that, or would have been horribly embarrassed, but somehow this time it didn't really matter.

Further landmarks included meeting other people - Becki's father was expected somewhere between 7 and 8 miles to hand out jellybeans, check. My family were cheering at the first time in Bermondsey, either between 10 and 11 or 11 and 12 miles (was only my memory which meant I couldn't remember, not my family's indecision), and so that gave me a focus for those two miles. Crowds throughout were amazing, something which I will probably repeat, but they particularly picked up round here, and true enough I saw my parents, aunt and wife in the crowd, finding time to run to the side of the road and plant a big kiss on my rather embarrassed wife and disappointed mother (sorry, only time for one!)

Other constants were the other runners, particularly those easy to spot. Throughout, a batman runner continually overtook me, with great cheers from the crowds. He would then fall back as he continually ran faster than me but then walked. But every time you were near a popular costume the crowds would be that much louder. At ten miles, a case of deja-vu as the six-man sausage dog from Hearing Dogs split between Becki and myself and overtook us. Why deja-vu? They did exactly that at Silverstone and can be seen in my photos on the finish line!

Soon after this was the biggest cheer of the day, up at the twelve mile marker, the crowds were cheering manically. Peter and Katie, aka Jordan and the bloke from I'm a Celebrity, judging by the crowd's banners, definitely the most popular competitors of the day, were running. I resisted the temptation to do a Matt Baker, and subtly ran on past them. It felt odd being a bit smug at overtaking Jordan and Peter but it was definitely one to remember.

Twelve and a bit miles and the landmark of Tower Bridge. At this point Becki mentioned to me that at thirteen miles she would have to walk for a bit. We'd agreed that if one of us had to walk then the other would carry on, as we don't want to hold each other up, so as we continued past Tower Bridge and the halfway stage, Becki and I parted. My spirits were high but aspirations realistic, I knew there was always a chance I would be walking sooner or later and she would catch up. Despite my enjoyment of the race and the highs from the occasion, there was no escaping the fact that the day was hot.

I think from about 14 to 16 miles the race got difficult. As the route winded away from the crowds through some of the smaller back streets, it was difficult to pick your way through the crowd of runners. Quite a few people were walking by now. I thought I was relatively strong, but was having to do quite a bit of weaving from left to right to get past walkers, cursing them inwardly as I did so. But I was becoming more drained myself, and as I emerged from the tunnel between 15 and 16 miles and reached the 16 mile marker, I started to walk, becoming one of the workers that I was previously cursing.

I tried not to beat myself up about it. My first goal was to run the whole way, but I always knew 26 miles was a long way that might need me to walk some of it - let's face it, I'm an unfit 36 year old doing my first exercise. While the roads and running were difficult I told myself I'd be in with a better chance of running the latter stages if I walked here. A lot of the runners were at this point. I've blogged before about how difficult I find it to start running again once I start to walk, so I did try a stint of running soon afterwards, but only for half a mile or so.

At 19 miles I saw my family again, and also our best friends who had made the journey up to London to watch. On seeing them I broke into a run (it seems I might have got away with it!) and was spurred on for another short stint. I did feel quite low at this point - I had no aches, strains or injuries, just the feeling that 26.2 miles was a bit beyond me. The flippant part of me was wondering how I'd write up my blog, should I change it to "Walking for Rhinos"? At one point I was overtaken by a man with an ironing board on his back. He then stopped ahead of me at a particularly eager gallery, put said ironing board on the floor, set it up and proceded to to some ironing ... Extreme Ironing I believe!

But the crowds by this point had changed. Through 17-18 miles or so they were small, and didn't offer so much encouragement apart from sympathy to those of us walking. But at 20 miles and beyond, they were so vocal, however difficult we were finding it. I'd determined to run the last 5 milesand as I passed the 21 mile mark, a quick calculation told me that if I could do 12 minute miles for the last 5 miles, I could still land a time better than 5:40, which would not be too bad at all for a first marathon of a non-exerciser on a very hot day.

Now as I started to run again I felt like an absolute superhero. The crowds spotted me as the runner among a sea of walkers, and I heard my name shouted again and again. They loved me! Or in my mind, they did. I was going to finish strong, and was feeling better about myself, and the day. Yes, I walked one more time as we approached the final underpass (between miles 23 and 24 I think). I chatted to a Superman who was worried he'd hit some Kryptonite (a pre-preapared gag I'm sure) but was desperate to finish well. Other guys too chatted as we walked and all gave each other great encouragement. One woman as we emerged from the tunnel told me off for being distracted by belly dancers on the pavement by the Thames (which I was), but when I tried to encourage her to run with me for the final couple of miles she didn't have the strength. I hope she finished OK. I had also been a bit disenhartened by a dismemberd Spongebob and concerned-looking Squidward at the entrance to the underpass, but hoped they were just answering a call of nature and nothing more.

The last couple of miles were lovely, just as you imagine while watching. As I ran, I picked my way through the stragglers who were walking (yes, I was a fraud because I'd already done my walking), and took the cheers of the crowd. The crowds were huge here, and I fully admit few were cheering at me, but at the emerging Spongebob Squarepants and friend from the tunnel, but I didn't mind that, as I was able to steal a bit of their crowd love to lift me for the last couple of miles. I passed my Superman friend again who really had ground to a halt, so close to the end. I tried to encourage him and I hope he finished, but I had my own battle to win now. Big Ben, Birdcage Walk, Horseguards parade, all safely negotiated, and I crossed the line with the clock saying 6:02 (which was of course readjusted down 23 minutes to 5:39).

I found myself thinking that I hoped my family had made it to the last mile to cheer me on, as the crowds here were phenomenal. I looked occasionally but had head down in an effort to make it to the end. It turned out they were there after all at the 800yard mark, but I didn't see them. But I'd been delighted to see them twice during the day.

I wish I'd run more and not walked, but my first goal was to run the whole thing, and if I couldn't do that, my secondary goal was to finish, enjoy the day, and complete with walking if I had to. My secondray goal was therefore achieved. Maybe my first goal will be achieved next year? That remains to be seen! I felt down, like I'd failed somewhat while I was walking at 16 miles, but my spirits were so much higher on finishing and I do still really feel proud of what I'd done. So much so that several hours of today, Monday morning, had been spent replying to good luck and congratulatory messages. I do feel like I really have done something quite amazing this weekend.