To slightly paraphrase the immortal words of Sir Edmund Hillary, "well, that's the bastard knocked off". An amazing day, an amazing event, an amazing feeling. Oh, and the hardest thing I've ever done in my life! Up front, I didn't make my target time, but to be honest, that's barely important right now.
After I left you this morning, an untroubled but rather busy commute got me to the Blue Start just after 0815. Plenty of time to loosen off, dump the kit bag, drink and warm up. They got us into the start pens (organised by expected time, I was in 4) just after 9, at which point the heavens opened and it absolutely pissed down for 20 minutes. Just like home. As soon as they take the tapes down and let the pens merge, much jostling and use of the grass verge ensues, and I ended up alongside a load of Pen 2 people. Lots of chat and banter all the way, a general longing for steak, chips and beer, and hearty "good lucks" all round.
0945 and we're off. Desperately trying to keep the pace sensible, which is actually quite easy becasue of the sheer number of runners. A quick dash to the loos at 2 miles (lesson lerned - go before, even if you have to leave the start pen. It's quicker to pass a few people than lose a minute in the loo) and I settled into a very steady pace, with 5ks in just under 25 minutes as I slowly brought myself back to bang on target pace by half way.
Or at least, what Garmin thought was target pace. As I checked the distance against the mile markers, it became apparent that with all the weaving across the road to find clear air, I was running slightly more than the posted distance, so I still needed some mental arithmetic at each mile marker to double check.
No real dramas in the first half, other than a slightly sore knee around Cutty Sark that soon passed. Just as I went over the half in 1:45:20, the men's leader came the other way, just passing the 22 mile marker. As I plodded on at my target pace, I was feeling OK, but it was pretty sticky and humid after the rain, and as the sun started to peek through it got pretty hot.
All was going well until 15 miles, when the top of my left thigh started to tighten rather horribly - the muscle that runs across the top of the anterior thigh from just under the groin. This area of my leg is often stiff during long runs, but never to this extent. Within half a mile or so, it was clear that I was going to need to slow down to see if it settled. It didn't, so Plan B was dusted down. The one that says "don't do any damage, ease off the pace and bring the vehicle home in one piece".
I hobbled on, in a fairly unseemly gait until mile 19, whereupon my bowels informed me that a "Paula" was in the offing. Fortunately some portaloos hove into view at this point, and I spent 4 minutes attending to matters. Oddly, when I came out, the thigh seemed to have settled a bit and I was able to push on at a slightly better pace for the next few miles. It started to tighten again around mile 24, but by this point you're starting to think "made it" and can afford to push on through the soreness. The appearance of Big Ben on the skyline constitutes the "not far now moment", and turning off the Embankment at mile 25, I was starting to sport a smile and build up the sprint finish (officially the world's slowest, to be fair).
The last mile is just unbelievable. Up Birdcage Walk, the crowds (of whom more later) are so noisy it's untrue. The smile becomes a big grin as 600m to go appears, and that longed for right turn at the Palace is taken. Mustering the last reserves of energy for the final blast up The Mall I must be honest, I was feeling pretty euphoric. Slightly worried that the race photos will show this exhausted loon encouraging the crowds to greater cheering. I was absolutely ecstatic to cross the line - both because it was over and I'd done it.
So. My time? 3:52:20, officially. 8716th finisher and 1034th in the MV45-49 category. Well outside my target, but still under 4 hours, which I am very proud of. The splits of 1:45:20 and 2:07:00 tell the story of the race, the leg and the pit stop. Oh, and Garmin reckoned I did 26.75 miles. Just what you need.
The finish procedure is simple. Man snips timing chip of shoe. Woman presents medal. Man takes "Finisher" photograph. Wander up The Mall and recover Kit Bag. All done in about 10 mins. Then it was off to the Marie Curie reception at the Charing Cross hotel for a shower, massage and refreshments. And that's it. The day is done.
Now, some other thoughts. The event itself is simply unbelievable. The organisation is like clockwork, the huge number of volunteers - without whom there'd be no race - are exceptional, and the crowds, well, there are almost no words to describe them. Every yard of the route is lined with enthusiastic, smiling and supportive people. Whether just encouraging, handing out sweets or fruit or bantering, they're special. Around the major landmarks like Cutty Sark and Tower Bridge they're 10 deep. Even round the canyons of Canary Wharf. it's mobbed, and from there to the finish they just build in numbers and support.
I simply can't express how much I enjoyed the day. The run could have been better, but so what, other marathons are available. But I don't think the day or the experience could. I'm very proud to be able to say "I am a Marathoner".
