As we all sat huddled in our Zone, we heard a cheer towards the
front, signifying the start of the race. We slowly shuffled for
at least 15 minutes towards the start line. By the time we got there
I was itching to start running, but I kept it slow as I crossed
the timing mats. Off I trot ....
And what a reception. Despite the conditions Londoners came
out in their droves to support the runners. I was well chuffed
and amazed at their enthusiasm. Those runners who had decided
to place names on their shirts were constantly greeted with
well wishes "Go Pete!", "Come on Linda!".
Every pub along the way had their speakers pointed trackside,
with DJs and bands playing for the runners and spectators
alike. It really helped me at the start, as it made one relax
a bit. As we turned around the Woolwich circus and headed
towards the Cutty Sark, I spotted the YMCA cheering point
on Trafalgar Road. As promised, they were playing the Village
People
song "YMCA". I ran past and tried to do the moves,
but only managed a "Y" and an "M". Damn!
My first major milestone was to maintain a steady pace and
get to Paul's place. He was roughly just past the 15km mark,
and lives on Salter Road, near Rotherhithe Station. As I headed
towards his house it started to pour down from the heavens,
and it became a bit dodgy as I tried to avoid all the bottles
of water and Lucozade scattered around the drinks stops. But
despite this the feeling I got when I saw them from a distance
negated any discomfort I was experiencing. They were sitting
on the balcony, sipping champagne, and screaming loudly at
me. I could hardly speak to them, I just waved and blew them
a kiss.
Running over Tower Bridge was another highlight. The bridge
was packed with people, and to see the London skyline as the
backdrop to the Thames, full of boats letting their sirens
off , was great. As you turned right off the bridge, and about
5 minutes eastwards, I reached the half-way mark. I checked
my watch - 2hrs 29mins. This was good, I had expected to reach
here about this time, I just needed to keep focussed, and
keep it going.
It was after here I reached my first major problem. I was
heading eastwards along the Highway, from Tower Bridge towards
Poplar and the Isle of Dogs. This road had competitors running
in the other direction, westwards towards the bridge and on
the finish at Green Park. I began to feel a bit sluggish,
because mentally I began to picture the distance around the
Isle of Dogs I would have to run to reach the same stage of
the runners heading the other way. It's amazing how that realisation
can drag you down, and I had to keep aiming for smaller goals,
looking for the markers every mile to keep me motivated.
I also began to hit "The Wall" much sooner as I
expected. I had previously run the first 20 miles of the track
in 3 hours 45mins, and felt I could achieve the same time
today. But it wasn't to be, as it began to get tougher through
Canary Wharf and towards the Mudchute Farm. I started to feel
the strain on my ankles in particular, and because I wasn't
completing the distance in the same, it started to get me
down.
So out came the iPod. I hit play, and Slayer's "Here
come the Pain" came on at high volume. Probably the kind
of song I didn't need to hear at the time! I changed it to
a playlist I had compiled the night before, containing some
Pearl Jam, Travis, and Scissor Sisters. It immediately helped
me as I rounded the Westferry Circus and through the tunnel
towards Narrow Street and Limehouse.
One of the other factors pushing me towards the finish line
was knowing that my fiancee and friends would be waiting at
the finish line. I had told them I was to finish around the
5 hour mark, but as I passed the 20 mile mark I was going
to be at least another hour. I called Lopa and told her I
was literally "running late", and told her to wait
in a pub nearby if she had to, as the skies opened up again
and poured down upon the helpless runners. Most of the runners
around me ( including myself ) were hobbling away at a slow
pace at this stage, and breaking out into a couple of walks
when required.
There
was one runner who came and went through the pack I was running
with who I shall never forget. "The Mobile Karaoke Unit"
was an inspiration to me. Running with a microphone (connected to
a mobile speaker ) in his left hand, and a plastic folder containing
song lyric sheets in his right, he ran and sang whole way. Non-stop.
If it wasn't Crowded House's "Don't Dream it's over",
it was "Jailhouse Rock" or other party classics.
I was running 10 minutes, and walking 5 mins by this stage.
The pain was becoming unbearable, and the difficulty in maintaining
a constant pace began to dip my emotions yet again. The runners
around me were starting to suffer as well, some bent over
on the side, others stopped by the road stretching or tending
to injuries. I kept going. I didn't want to stop, I had to
keep going, even if it meant walking a little.
I managed to get to the cobblestone road under Tower Bridge,
and after nearly spraining my ankle running over the uneven
surface, I started to feel upbeat again and put some more
music on. I was on the Thames Street, and slowly heading towards
towards the finish. Whoo Hoo !
Then the hail came down.
Not light rain, hail. And it came down hard. I cussed under
my breath and continued on, my head down and feet shuffling
as fast as they could. The marathon had already taken many
casualties, and this wasn't helping. As Karaoke Man cranked
out "Layla" in an unintentional staccato heavy breathing
style, I check my watch. 5 hours 30 minutes. I had just passed
Blackfriars Bridge, and swore I was going to finish before
6 hours. I had to. As I turned and looked beyond the London
Eye, I could see Westminster Palace and Big Ben. My armpits
were starting to chafe, and my water-logged clothes were starting
to become extremely uncomfortable. Keep going.
I had been reading an article in the New Scientist about
The Wall, and spoke about how much of it is controlled more
by one's mental impression of how long there was left to run,
rather than how long one's muscles felt there was left. As
I reached Westminster and turned towards Buckingham Palace,
I realised what they were talking about.
I could see the finish. I could picture it. I could feel
it. My slow shuffle/walk combo suddenly became a sprint. My
pace amazingly picked up, and started to feel stronger, and
more confident. I ran past a group of cheering supporters,
and I screamed to myself "COME ON!!!" They all fell
silent and stared at me, like I was like a man possessed.
A woman running next to me looked at me in horror and started
running faster, probably to get away from me.
I could hear the announcer at the finish line as I approached
Buckingham Palace, as I then stepped it up a notch and sprinted
for my life towards the end. I had finally done it. I nearly
cried my eyes out as I crossed the line in 5 hours 45 mins.
As I hobbled towards the Repatriation Area to meet my friends,
the rain still came down, but I didn't care. All those little
battles with my self-confidence and drive during the race
were handled and conquered accordingly. I set out to finish
it, and I did!
Any regrets? I wanted to finish around the 5 hour mark, and
my training could of been more extensive, with more long distance
runs. I felt my legs were not prepared for the race, and would
like to think that next time I could do it non-stop. I probably
should have altered my diet more as well and kept my weight
down. But all that paled into insignificance as I hobbled
towards Lopa and my friends, who I all gave a big hug, and
went home to attack a bottle of Moet & Chandon and a nice
hot bath :-)
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