FLORA LONDON MARATHON – April 18TH
I was once told that running a marathon was easy, the difficult bit was the long hard slog of the training you had to do. So as I boarded the early (actually the very early) train to London with Steve Russell, Andy Watts and half the Sale Sharks supporters club, I felt pretty confident about the race the following day. I’d trained for longer, I’d run further and faster and shed a bit of weight (it’s amazing what a bit of public humiliation in Tony’s shop can do). The omens were looking good.
Saturday was spent doing the last few formalities like signing on and collecting all the pre-race essentials and goodies (still not sure what the kitchen cleaning fluid was all about). The weather was kind, the sun was shining and there was a general good feel factor from the three of us. So much so we ventured off for the usual pre-race pasta session. Steve had us walking round Soho for a good half hour trying to find some restaurant (or so he claimed) before we spotted some Italian/French restaurant just off Leicester Square. Later on Mr Russell was seen entering and leaving the toilets of the local pub with a rather strange and suspicious man purporting to be a FLM runner, mmm.
Sunday, ah yes. The sun had given way to rain – horizontal, wet and cold. Breakfast, which was promised at 7:00, didn’t happen. After a dish of cereals and a prolonged argument with the hotel staff we left for the start. Greenwich common was wet, all the tents were full and we were feeling a little miserable. We bade farewell to Andy who had very handily got himself allocated to the Green start. Steve and I went in search of shelter. Steve has an eye for these sort of things and very quickly found a warm if slightly damp and rather full tent to get changed in.
We didn’t want to leave but leave we did. As we lined up in our pen along with the rest, Steve and I looked resplendent in our matching black bin bag liners (mine was a superior little number with Macclesfield BC on the front). A search of the pen failed to spot Andy P. Too late to check whether he’d made it or not as the gun fired and we were off. London is big, very big, so big that it has three official starts. But even that fails to prevent you having to weave in and out of people at the start.
At 3 miles the two main start groups join and not surprisingly there is a certain amount of banter between the two. The resulting influx of runners meant that I lost sight of Steve. However all was not lost as but a handful of metres in front was an Indian squaw, resplendent in jacket, short (very short) skirt and feather. Ha ha I thought here’s a good excuse to latch onto a good pace. Over the course of the next six miles I tagged along, only momentarily being distracted by a Runner’s World pacer asking me if I knew a guy from Wilmslow who was running the race and worked for Shell – how weird was that! Heading towards Tower Bridge I lost sight of my squaw, and despondence set in. But my spirits were lifted shortly after as Tower Bridge came into view. It really does make you sit up and notice (wrong metaphor I know but you get the picture).
Crossing half way in a little over 1:36, I was still on schedule for a good time. I felt good and pressed on. It was at this stage that the course enters a loop through Docklands and the route out joins the route back to the finish. The good news is that you get to see the elite runners from a few feet away and realise how quick they are going. The bad news is that you realise that their race is nearly finished and you’re just over halfway. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. The rain which had eased, suddenly decided to come back with a vengeance. For twenty minutes it rained and I got cold. The road filled with puddles and me and my fellow runners began splashing around. Canary Wharf was a temporary sanctuary as not only did it offer a brief respite from the weather but the noise and sight of the crowd was very uplifting.
Around mile 18 I saw a familiar sight – a Wilmslow running vest (it was wrapped around Andy Penney and not discarded in the gutter!). Finally someone to talk to. However such was the speed differential that it took over a mile to catch him. After a quick chat Andy ‘suggested’ I ought to go on as he was beginning to feel the strain. Not far along the road and further inspiration followed when I heard someone shout ‘Wilmslow’ and then my name. I looked up and there was Ned offering support and a cheery face. Buoyed by this and the fact that now I was on mile 19, it was my turn to be running towards the finish and looking at the crowd of runners passing the half way mark. Not much to this marathon lark I thought.
Then suddenly it happened. Around the 20 mile mark I hit the wall. Going past Tower Bridge for a second time was not nearly so much fun. The cobbles were slippy and hard on the feet, the legs begun to hurt and the finish line seemed such a long way off. Mark Wrigley’s words came flooding back to me, ‘at twenty miles you’re only half way round’ – how true. It’s at times like these that you have to dig in hard and think of all the training you’ve put in over the previous months. A couple of miles later and a few swigs of that wonderful lucozade sport stuff (didn’t see Jonny Wilkinson handing out my drink) and I was running along the embankment. Despite the weather, the crowds were as vociferous as ever with every vantage point taken. Looking up I saw Big Ben dead ahead and I knew I was inside the final mile. The spring had returned to my legs, my arms began pumping, my head cleared and my spirits soared. Turning into the Mall and being cheered on by so many people is certainly an experience that’s hard to beat, you can’t fail to be moved by it.
After crossing the line I collected the t shirt, medal and yet another goody bag, swapped stories with the other finishers and met up with Andy W who was the first Wilmslow runner home and Steve who clocked a PB for the course. We didn’t see Andy P cross the line but rumour had it he finished just behind Nell McAndrew! Nice run Andy, first marathon, cracking time. Congratulations to Yvonne who was the first (and only) Wilmslow lady home in a sub 5 hour time – maybe that will inspire a few more to pick up the baton for next year.
Finally on the train home after a swift Guinness and munching my way through the contents of the goody bag, I had time to reflect on what had happened. I set out with two goals, first to set a PB and second to enjoy the race. The months of training, all those sessions running through the airport tunnels and long Sunday runs to Macc and back, the friendly advice of many club members and all those carbo’s consumed allowed me to achieve both. In the end, it’s true what they say that you reap from what you sow.
Results:
Andy Watts 3:10:16 2010th
Steve Smith 3:11:50 2157th
Steve Russell 3:14:16 2457th
Andy Penney 3:18:01 2830th
Yvonne Brown 4:45:10 24436th
Steve Smith