So who am I to deprive the ‘fans’ of a little narcissistic rant about how my day went on the 26th?!

The Preparation
After all of that whining in the week leading up to the race, my cold was all but a sniffle by the time Sunday morning came around. To say that I was relaxed was an understatement. I’d been in bed by 9pm every night of that week, eaten pasta 4 nights in a row and hadn’t been on a run in 5 days.

On the morning of the race I stuffed myself with 3 slices of toast, 2 cereal bars, 2 bananas, 1 pack of jelly beans and 1 carbo gel. My old school teacher was running the race on the day; one of the final few who had been given a guaranteed ballot place after applying 5 times unsuccessfully (something that the London Marathon team are phasing out due to increased popularity in the race). His son, a good friend of mine, was on camera duty. He didn’t disappoint.

The Start
The rain came down half an hour before the start of the race, so all of the early birds who had handed their belongings in to the lorries were now all huddled, freezing under the trees of Greenwich Park. I squeezed down another gel and a packet of jelly beans and joined them. So much for the hot weather we’d been promised!

My previous VLM time of 4 hours 45 minutes surely had something to do with the starting group I was placed in. I was starting the race from pen 8 (out of 9) so it was a good 15 minutes before I crossed the start line and I immediately had to face a home truth.

Mile 1
There was no way that I was going to be able to stick to the 9-minute-mile pace I’d wanted to (and trained for). The crowds were just too big. I found myself checking my watch every few seconds and watching the little digital man run further and further away from me. 3 minutes in and I was already 40 seconds off pace! What a start.

Mile 2
The rain had now cleared but somehow I was still getting wet. How? Because a priest was blessing the runners with Holy Water from the side of the road!

Mile 3
We merged with the blue and green running groups (yes, I did boo them and shout ‘cheat’ a few times) and the red (optimum) race line appeared on the road. But of course there is no way of sticking to it as the numbers are just too high.

Mile 4
By this time I had scaled a few pavements, weaved my way through some stragglers and found my rhythm, partly thanks to the number of brilliant bands playing from the side of the road. Although I did have ‘Achy Breaky Heart‘ stuck in my head for the next two miles.

Mile 5
“Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart…”. The Taiko Drums underneath the Greenwich flyover were amazing as usual. Check out this video to give you an idea of what it’s like under that bridge. It doesn’t do the volume justice at all. Absolutely awesome and what a motivator.

Unfortunately, straight after this the road merged from two lanes into one and forced everyone to a walking pace.

Mile 6
Into the heart of Greenwich we went and the crowds picked up to 3 people deep. This is quite a busy section for the crowds as this area is walking distance from the start line. Where the path was fenced there was a queue almost half a mile long of people trying to get out to the DLR. Spectators do have a tough time of it on race day, but they never complain because it pales into insignificance with the plight of a marathon runner. I would though! 5 hours on your feet, jostling through Central London and public transport on one of the busiest days of the year? What a nightmare!

Mile 7
Past the first of the TV cameras around the Cutty Sark and out towards Deptford. I’ve run this area of London a heck of a lot during training and there isn’t a lot to see. Luckily I spotted my supporters in the crowd, ready and waiting with the camera.

Mile 8
I spotted my first record breaker of the day. The tallest costume to finish the marathon was won by a giant yellow giraffe! The poor guy wearing it was having to hold the long neck (made from what looked like a piece of ventilation pipe) up with his hands. He must have been absolutely spent by the end of the race.

Mile 9
The former editor of Running Free magazine, Julia Buckley, jogged up behind me at this stage and said hello. Last year she ran a small piece on this blog in the magazine so it was great to finally meet Julia and she looked as fit as a fiddle. What Julia didn’t know was that I had picked mile 9 for a wee break (not a Scottish break but a toilet break) already in my head and after we’d finished chatting I snuck off to the side and watered the plants. Unfortunately I ended up running around the 15k timer, which is why I have no recorded time on my official stats.

Mile 10
I was feeling pretty good. The runners had evened out ever so slightly, my pace was fairly consistent and my pouch of jelly beans was keeping my fuel topped up.

Mile 11
By now we’d passed quite a few pubs and I was starting to feel a bit of resentment towards the beer sippers on the pavement. I’d quit beer for the 4 months prior to the marathon as a new year’s resolution, so that pint at the end of the race was starting to sound good. The sun was now out, making it perfect drinking weather. Just another 15 miles eh?!

Mile 12
Overcast again but pretty humid at the same time. So much so that the chant ‘OGGY OGGY OGGY’ had been switched to ‘MUGGY MUGGY MUGGY’. But, as ever, taking on water was really not a problem. I can’t praise the volunteers enough. On the day nobody goes thirsty as 750,000 bottles of water are handed out. It’s taking on too much water that is a worry. All of the bottles this year came with flip caps, which meant that you could carry them along with you. And with a bottle of water handed out at every mile there is a very serious risk of hyponatremia. I overcame this by showering my self at every available opportunity to try and avoid passing out from the heat (which nearly happened last year)

Mile 13
Over Tower Bridge and half of the marathon done! I’ve run over this bridge about 40 times but nothing really prepares you for it on race day. This is the bit that everyone sees on TV and you can’t help but get caught up in the euphoria. I was feeling surprisingly good and although I’d lost a bit of time in the crowd I’d managed to complete the half-way distance in just over 2 hours.

Mile 14
Down the Highway towards Canary Wharf and the leaders of the pack are already coming back in the opposite direction; not exactly a morale booster. But the spectators are now borderline farcical as they all cram around the roadside to get a good view.

Mile 15
Tiredness is starting to creep in and it doesn’t help that this is the longest and most boring road ever, with no real landmarks to take in, other than Canary Wharf staying exactly the same size in the distance. Someone cooks a barbecue right next to us and laces the entire stretch of road in smoke. Just what the doctor ordered.

Mile 16
As you enter the Isle of Dogs you travel under a tunnel and out of view of the spectators for the first time in the race. This is where you’ll find a lot of runners sneaking in a quick walk or a sit down now that the crowds can’t judge you. I actually caught another Lymphoma Association runner on the phone!

Mile 17
A psychological milestone. It was at this point last year that I had needed to walk, after feeling quite sick and light-headed. Not this year baby! And to top it off the crowds were better than ever. People are quick to comment on the lack of crowds around this area (Island Gardens), but I was bloody impressed.

Mile 18
Deep in the heart of Canary Wharf now and my mile times were starting to drop off slightly. This could have been due to the stadium-esque crowd levels distracting me from the race. It was truly ridiculous. I felt quite self conscious at one point as a clearing gave the spectators full view of my running vest and ripples of ‘Come on Sir Jog A Lot‘ went through the crowd.

Mile 19
I managed to sneak my way on to the BBC here. As brief as my moment of fame was, a ton of friends got in touch to say they’d seen me! I also clocked a work colleague dancing with her samba school. She cheered me on like I was a celebrity, which was awesome (cheers Karla!).

Mile 20
OK. So this is starting to get hard. The sun was out in force now. I was sick to death of my jelly beans and couldn’t stomach another carbo gel. Why was I starting to hit the wall when I’d fuelled up so well? The turn left on to the home straight was bugger all of a relief. That’s still another 6-mile slog.

Mile 21
Is that cramp? I actually hear myself say “Oh no!” out loud as my right calf starts to twinge with the first signs of cramp and I run with my toe pointed upwards as far as I can get it to try and stretch it out.

Mile 22
I’m still running. Every inch of my body wants to walk and I find myself cursing my own stupid, bloody blog post that stated that if anyone sees me walking they can kick me up the Khyber. Part of me really questions why I’m doing this. I feel terrible for thinking it, but is this really worth the pain? My only consolation, however harsh, is that there are still some runners going in the other direction and haven’t yet passed the halfway point. 4 more miles.

Mile 23
Without noticing it, my mile times level out a bit. I run at the pace I feel comfortable with and when I feel the need to walk I just turn it down a bit. It’s really hard now. I’m soaked through as with every mile I grab a bottle of water and cover myself with it.

Mile 24
I’m not smiling anymore. Not even when Liz Yelling hands me a bottle of Lucozade. What are you smiling at Liz? You’re not running are you? But even as I enter the tunnel before the Embankment, out of the eyes of the crowd and the wave of heat hits me, I don’t walk.

Mile 25
Big Ben symbolises the finish in the distance, but it looks so… far… away. But the crowds are just insane and the level of cheers turns to a roar. Who gives a monkeys about the landmarks in the distance when you have a crowd this energetic there to scream you on to the finish? It’s easy to think that the spectators don’t really understand the anguish you’re going through. But boy do they appreciate what you are doing and the standard of support is literally jaw dropping.

Mile 26
Spotting two friends here is just the kicker I need to get me down the Mall (which now resembles the travelator from Gladiators; a never-ending red treadmill). As I finally turn the corner and spot the finish line I can’t help but smile. This was much harder than last year and I don’t have anything left for a sprint finish. But once I’m across that line there’s nothing like it. It’s like having a water balloon of relief, joy, pain, dizziness and accomplishment smashed over your head.

LonDONE!

Time: 4:21:21 (25 minutes off last year)

The Aftermath
This video sums it all up.

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