Marathon Man

Over 24 blissfully restful hours have passed since 35,000 determined runners doggedly completed the London Marathon; as you probably know by now, I was one of those people. I didn’t dress up as Superman, or in a leopard print mankini like one particularly colourful gentleman I encountered along the route, yet nonetheless I was one of many who can tick it off life’s endless ‘to do’ list. Essentially, I’m left with some vivid memories, temporarily demented hamstrings and an overwhelming desire to detail my experiences. As well as several pressing questions, of course. Namely, was it all worth it? Would I do it again? Can I be proud of my achievements?

As I write this blog, the complementary medal that I received hangs haphazardly from the corner of a mantelpiece. It inspires a plethora of emotions within me; from sheer relief when I finally crossed the finishing line, to the subsequent frustration I felt when remembering my target time wasn’t achieved, or even pleasant surprise at the manner in which ordinary Londoners got together along the route to heartily support us. What I can guarantee for certain is that no other single event within a period of time encompassing only a few hours has ever motivated or perplexed me so much. Marathons are infectious, addictive and nerve-wracking, a drug which I feel inextricably addicted to. And I’ve only just completed my first! Undoubtedly, I will be completing several again very soon indeed, as my Spanish running pilgrimage looms ever closer.

Nevertheless, despite being proud of completing the race in a respectable time (4:17 approximately), an uneasy voice lingers at the back of my mind. I was over half an hour too slow for my target time of 3:45, an achievable threshold which I genuinely believed could be accomplished. Initially, my pace was good; in fact, that was the principle problem. Sticking with a pacemaker who was above and beyond my ability, I was regularly notching up 7 minute miles before halfway; inevitably, this was impossible to replicate and I struggled after an hour and a half of the race. Firstly for energy, consequently when attempting to find a comfortable speed which I could adhere to. In addition, I found the Lucozade carbohydrate gels very difficult to digest; perhaps it would have been sensible to at least sample one beforehand to discover whether or not I liked them and get accustomed to the taste whilst running. Yes, I raised nearly £1000 for a wonderful charity in Children with Leukaemia, who were very supportive and helpful both during the build up and on race day itself by the way. I’d thoroughly recommend running with them. However, there’s still a sizeable marathon monkey on my back which taunts me, as well as the unsatisfactory performance I turned in. Though this unfinished business can wait; the mistakes can be rectified in the future.

Asides from pernickety moaning, running a marathon is all about togetherness and team spirit. London, undeniably, is a vast and remarkable metropolis, a capital city which on the whole we can all marvel at and be proud of. Yet it’s often the case that many of us seem to transform into distant, unfriendly creatures when frequenting the capital; think of cramped, awkward tube journeys, or the manner in which homeless people are habitually ignored. On the other hand, the camaraderie and encouragement espoused by runners and spectators alike was extraordinary. In fact, it’s the one element I’ll remember most fondly in years to come. From a fancy dress party blaring out music in the Charlton region, to the brass band playing the Rocky theme tune ‘Gonna Fly Now’ along the final few torturous miles. High-fiving people on the sidelines, getting clapped on the back by fellow runners when I felt like it was impossible to continue, all of these ingredients combine to give me a bit of a cheesy, warm glow.

Naturally, getting overtaken by pensioners in places felt a bit humiliating and unnatural, but the pace of some competitors is deceptive. I spoke to one gentleman in his 70s, who was running his 26^th marathon, which is remarkable considering he only completed the first after retiring a few years ago! The spirit and dedication of all sorts of people, young and old, large or small, is something which is more impressive and important than achieving personal target times. With hindsight, I can appreciate this.

And so it is, that when I reflect initially on my first London Marathon experience, I realise I can be relatively proud of my personal achievements. Conversely, there’s still ample room to improve! Was it all worth it? Without a doubt. The mental barriers which I overcame and saw people conquer themselves were astounding. The concept of regular, everyday people coming together for one event, for whatever personal reasons they may have, to overcome something as difficult as the London Marathon, is quite simply inspirational. Well done to all of you who competed or were involved in the race, be you a runner, spectator or organiser. Congratulations on helping make the occasion so brilliant; same time again next year?

Peace out,

George