It was back in January that club mate Frank through injury had to surrender his club place for the Virgin London Marathon. I was still mentally sore from the disappointing run I had at Loch Ness, which failed to give me a 'best for age' place at London, but I knew that unless I started running sub 3 hour marathons, this might be my only guarantee of a place in the big one. And so the forms were sent off and the training began.
Training was hard in the winter...especially when it's the worst we have had in ages. Running in the snow was probably the cause of my tendonitis in the achilles heel. As much as I wanted to, my granny ankles were genuinely creaking too much and so I had to sit it out for nearly a month. I followed Hal Higdon's Intermediate 2 training programme and once over my injury I picked up where it was up to, rather than where I had left off. The big difference this time was I had resigned myself to making my long runs slower and steady compared to my Loch Ness training. The idea of a PB was gone back in March but I'd paid for my train tickets so I was not planning on pulling out! The pressure was off.
Fast forward to Thursday 21st April, the final preparations were underway. Whilst I enjoyed a large plate of pasta at Umberto's with the running club, Rhona, Emma's cousin and nearest marathon rival was making her way back to London from Hong Kong. She had been due back on the Saturday before but that volcano eruption in Iceland killed that idea. I headed down to the big smoke (London not Iceland) on Friday morning. Rhona confirmed she had arrived so it was all looking quite exciting. I sat with Douglas, a fellow runner from Livingston all the way down. We conversed about training, races and stuff like that whilst we both hydrated. This meant frequent visits to the train water feature known as the toilet. In our carriage there was a hen party at one end, and a stag doo at the other. Needless to say these early morning drinkers had lost their senses and aim!
From Kings Cross I tried to blend in with the Londoners on the tube, but making eye contact and smiling blew my cover. I met up with Rhona at Emma's sisters city centre flat. It was within spitting distance of Victoria Station, and more importantly 5 minutes away from the finishing line. Off we headed to Excel for the expo to collect my number. You can imagine the journey over there. The train was like a pressure cooker full of runners all listening in to each others conversations, wondering if they have done enough training, and some looking a bit panicky. I was confident in my own preparations and remained calm. Collecting the number took all of 5 minutes. we then entered the Expo. Rows and rows of running gadgetry, clothes, sports scientist all promising you great results. I was after a pair of new socks, Rhona a belt. As Sods Law determines, after buying one, the next aisle down had them £1 cheaper. After over grazing on free energy bar samples (I resisted the free beer), we escaped this vortex of running paraphernalia.
I headed over to Putney to meet up with old friends Mark and Wendy. Their lads had grown a bit, notably Tim who at 14, towered over me with his 6ft 4 frame. He is like Sport Billy and does well in most sports including rowing, basketball and running. He was preparing for the 5km Mini London Marathon on the Sunday (he came 2nd by the way). Saturday was going to be all about relaxing. Livy gave us a tour of Putney's park. It is not how I imagined London life. This place was full of triathlete clubs, boot camp clubs, fitness in the park club and hundreds of people running, jogging, roller blading, doing Thai Chi and all sorts of other things. But, it has to be said, marathon runners are the top dogs.
Photo: Big Tim is living proof that eating your greens is good for you.
Later we headed to Kingston-on-Thames to watch Tim do his rowing training and Ollie skateboard at the park. The sun was out so Wendy headed off to Waitrose for a picnic. A great way to chillax! We then headed back for a tour of Richmond Park, opening my eyes up to the vast amounts of green space in London. Again there were hundreds of people out on bikes and running. We also got to do a bit of a tour of celebrities houses. Putney and Kingston are quite well to do and where your neighbours might include Daley Thompson, Nerys Hughes and Simon Le Bon. Other celebrities were out of sight as we went past the Priory Clinic. I was hoping for a glimpse of Subo! We also passed the shrine of Marc Bolan.
Photo: Rhona's Girl Guide's Needlework Badge finally became useful as she turned Andy's macho man vest into a petite lady vest.
In the evening we headed up to Adam and Claire's new flat for a pasta party. They were having a cook off, but to be honest both were very nice and loaded up my carbs very well. I offered up my own variety of Parmesan cheese, as I was busy filing down the dry skin on my feet. Rhona was there busy sewing. As she had been stranded in Hong Kong, I had brought her running kit down, only to discover her husbands Andy's vest had been packed by mistake. She managed to shave around 18 inches off it to make it fit. Fully carbo loaded, we headed back to Victoria for final preparations, reading all the bits of info and settling in. Surprisingly I went to sleep quite quickly, dreaming dreams of Kenyan's falling over and me stepping on them to reach the finishing line!
The sound of sirens and bin vans beat the alarm clock to wake me up at 6am. I grabbed a bowl of muesli, some toast and coffee and then spent the next hour frequently visiting the loo. The hydration plan was working, and with weather forecasts of the mid 20's, it was a plan worth having. One more pee before heading to the tube and trying to remember which station we needed to go to. Confidently we went to Charing Cross and boarded the 8.15am to Blackheath, getting seats on a very packed train. As the doors shut the panic was written on the faces of runners left on the platform, wondering if they would make it in time to the start. We were surrounded by Italians so listening to their conversations for any last minute tips was pointless. I thought italians were supposed to be leaders in fashion, well one was wearing a disposable painters overall. No class at all, get yourself a pair of scraggy shorts and a vest!
As I got off the train, 2 things registered. One was that my hamstrings were very tight. I really needed to stretch but with no room either side of us, this was a non starter until I could get to the starting zone. The other was that the celebrities running would also be on the train. Just as I thought it, I looked up to see kids TV presenter Dick and Dom stood next to me and I had to fight to resist starting a game of 'BOGEYS'. We followed the masses to Blackheath green space, park, common thingy! I have no idea what it's called or where it is, as my main concern was that it was the Blue Start Area. First things first, join the long queue for the urinals before sending my bag to the luggage vehicles. At this point the weather took a turn. Cold wind and rain came from nowhere, so it was time to put on my Scotland poncho. This then became a magnet for Scottish people who looked so disappointed to hear my English voice. I did quite a bit of stretching as my hamstrings were still very tight. No explanation as to why, but I was beginning to doubt they would last the 26.2 miles ahead of them. Then time for one more pee! As with most of the other blokes, we couldn't be bothered queueing again so we used the back of the elite runners loos. Then it was into the Blue Start 2 pen for 15 minutes waiting for the start. Soon after they release the barriers holding back all the other pens of slower runners, and it gets pretty busy down there, with the mob gradually edging towards the start. Then, without any obvious cue, the race starts. It took me 37 seconds to cross the starting line, so all the way around I was taking that off the clock time.
The first mile was predictably full of slower runners who had placed themselves much to far up the field. They just get in the way, so it is here that you learn that elbows can be as equal value to a runner as legs. The sudden stop starts and steps to the side hurt the hamstrings. I was aiming fro a 3:10 so I had a pace band to assist me. I was 40 seconds too slow for the first mile, so I tried to speed up a little and regain lost ground over 2-3 miles rather than in one mad panic. After 3, the 3 start routes merge into 1. Being near the front of the field, there was no congestion, but I understand it does get a bit chocca later on. After 5 miles I was over 1.5 minutes ahead of myself and by this point the crowds are building up on the route. I heard the first cheer for Dunbar soon after and I made the decision there that banter with the crowd was going to make this race easier. Kids begged for high 5's, and DJ's encouraged us to wave at the crowds, who cheered back. There are designated points for charity supporters, where often hundreds of people from a charity stand and support their runners. I was by a Macmillan runner when they passed their fans. The noise and support was incredible and infectious and made me feel slightly self indulgent running for myself and nothing else.
The route weaves through the diverse social makeup of London. Housing estates, financial districts, affluent areas and a mixture of ethnic communities. There is music and smells to reflect them too. For example clubmate Sheila was offered some cannabis by 2 Afro Caribbean supporters, encouraging her to chill rather than run. The burger vans make you want to chuck up as they waft the smell of greasy burgers and onions across the course. All the time though the crowd are screaming support at you. There were water stations at least every 2 miles, and Lucozade at the others. I had probably taken a bit to much and decided that 30 seconds in the loo was going to make my run more pleasurable than holding on for 2 hours. In training I would do that so why change anything now?
By half way I was over 3 minutes ahead of myself and feeling great. But my Loch Ness experience told me to take it easy and slow down a little and keep it steady for the rest of the race. At some point 'the wall' creeps up on you, and thereafter the race is a struggle. I headed into Docklands and then back again, reaching 20 comfortably. At 22 I refueled on gels, and and slab of Kendal mint cake. The onset of fatigue had suddenly caught up. I could feel the hamstrings beginning to take the strain and then at around 24, inside a tunnel the cramp finally got me. Cramp comes and goes, and shouldn't end your race. It's the injuries you get running with it that do. So I had to stop, stretch and get myself in order for the finish. I became acutely aware of how finely connected your core and your legs are. Certain postures triggered the cramp, so the finish was to be a very delicate operation of not over doing it.
385 yards to go! said the sign. Another of the many turns on this winding course brought the finish line into view. I tried for a sprint finish, but soon felt the cramp returning, so I had to settle with a controlled run in. I am glad I did as it gave me time to enjoy the crowd and wave to the cameras. I could see the clock was 3:07:44 and I knew, taking off those 37 I was going to be well within my time and 6 minutes of my PB. Once through I found myself feeling a little bit bewildered and lost for words. There is a photographer ready to take your mug shot, and then I wandered up to get my tag removed and collect my medal and t-shirt. I didn't know what to do next, and I was stretching a bit and feeling pretty good. Then I noticed a Dunbar vest coming through the finishing line. It was Rhona who I though had already finished. She clocked 3:08 another PB for her too, and we discovered later came 9th in her age category. So it was good news all round.
We headed into St James' Park and lay on the grass for a while. I called Emma who had been tracking me on the Facebook tracking thing. According to that I was still running, so she was surprised to hear from me. Stuart asked me to take a picture of Buckingham Palace, which I realised was behind us. So we wandered across and made hard work of climbing the footbridge. However, you get a hero's welcome from the supporters as you go through and it is a moment to savour.
Rhona had to get back for a train, so we walked all of the 5 minutes it took to get to the flat, where Rhona got packed up and I made some pasta. She left and then I ran a cold bath . Within the hour I was feeling pretty refreshed and headed down to Kings Cross to join hundreds of other runners making their way home. On board the train, I had taken the precaution of booking into 1st Class so I could spread out a bit. I bumped into the bloke from Livingston who had a really bad 5 and half hour run, made worse by being beaten by a toilet in the last 100 meters! I'd brought a couple of DVD's and my free beer to enjoy on the way home. The guard was on good form and announced "We apologise for this train being so busy. It seems there has been some sort fo fun run going on in the city today." There was a mixture of laughter and boo's rippling through the train, but he was right, it was a run and it was fun.
Photo: Looking a lot worse than we felt having both grabbed PB's.
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