Some cool real estate in pa images:
It's done
Image by get down
Memories: a blur. The clear blue dawn. Runners boarding the Tube at every stop. Dozens of baggage lorries, outstanding organisation. Watching the women's start. The quiet before the race, hundreds of clothes being shed on the start line. Pissing, pissing everywhere. A strange personal calm and lack of fear. Having no idea what to expect. The off! Spotting the family standing on the Landie at the start. The constant bleeping of timing mats. The bunch stopping in the first mile. High-fiving kids along the way.
Setting off a little too quick. Keeping the nine minute mile pace group in sight, for a while. Passing Bertie who's running 35 marathons in 22 days. The boos as the blue and red starts meet. Why do we have to go around the roundabout and they don't? Trying to keep to my carbo-gel plan. Stopping for a pee. And again. And then wanting to pee desperately through stomach cramps but nothing coming out, time after time. Kodo-esque drummers under the A102. Greenwich, spotting Mat (thanks for all your help my friend!), running past the Cutty Sark, on through Deptford. Pubs with music. People, people everywhere - not an inch of the race was without support. Oranges from spectators. Feeling strong. This is the day.
Nine miles, Surrey Quays, a wall of sound. Shirts proclaiming "running for Mum": that's what chokes the throat. Onto the Rotherhithe Peninsula. Run once in training, so dull, knew I wouldn't be back until today and now it's packed. Canary Wharf so near and yet ten miles ahead. The drizzle begins. And then rain, torrential rain, it's like swimming and it's great, raw, refreshing. Still strong. Jamaica Road behind a mankini. The crowds are still out despite the downpour. Twelve miles, turn right, Tower Bridge. Is this real? It's a climb but I'm running with a big smile, this isthe London Marathon. Turn right, heading towards Docklands, half way, two hours. That's good, but it's starting to hurt. And it's meant to hurt. Keep going. It's a mental game. What does that mean?
Along The Highway. A handful of elite runners pass in the opposite direction. Good, I'm not too slow. Trying to take water at every stop but struggling to get it down. Stomach is sore. Stop to try and pee again: nothing (and nor would there be until late that evening). Keep going. Crisis supporters' point ahead at Westferry, that's the next target. Into Docklands. The smell of barbecue turns the stomach. Past the Crisis zone, keep focused, can't stop, hardly spotted them, was the family there? I didn't see them. Phew, it's starting to get sore. Wish I hadn't lost that last month of training.
Seventeen miles. Okay, I'll walk after the next water stop to get as much down as I can. Where is it, they're meant to be every mile but only where there's a long stretch of road. Hell, there isn't one. But keep going. Mile eighteen, finally, water, get it down, start off again. Come on. Look, Canary Wharf is so near. Tired legs. Through the office buildings, very crowded but oddly quiet, scan the faces for anyone I know but nothing. It's hard looking at both sides whilst running. Actually it's hard running. I've never run this far before and I'm still going, that's good. Past Billingsgate Market, a row of toilets, the cramp is making me want to do some business but once again nothing happening. Queuing doesn't help my mile pace which is dropping below ten minutes.
Finally back in the right direction, towards the city. Is this a housing estate? Sunshine. Past the Limehouse Link and onto The Highway in the reverse direction. Still some runners coming through eight miles behind me. A stilt walker followed by the clean-up team. The crowds are noisier now but I'm walking, running, walking a little, running. My name's called out several times in a row as I'm walking along. Pip! I pass her my belt with a snarl, sorry Pip, that was a bad moment. Onwards, churning onwards. So many people call my name. "Cris!"; "Crisis, oh, er, Joel", yes, the charity name on the vest is a lot bigger than mine. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes. Dropping to eleven minute miles
Twenty two miles, onto Upper Thames Street, nearly home. Crowds line the canyon of office blocks. "Come on Joel, start running. Nearly there mate". Motivating and well intentioned but I'm tempted to tell them to "Feck off and die, I don't see you running a marathon". Tired now. Head down. Pushing through; painful; walk, run, walk, run. Into the tunnel. Only runners now, silence. Disheartening to be walking by the side as a sea of jogging backs, head down, flows past. Must keep going. Onto the Embankment. Really near now. Hard. Keep going, come on. You'll do this in under four and a half hours. You've got time. Keep moving. Wince. Move.
Under Blackfriars Bridge. A hill! I didn't expect this but drift up. Raining hard again. Push, push, towards Embankment Station. Spot M, M, M and M on the far side. At least I'm running. I hope they didn't see me walking twenty seconds ago. Twenty five miles, the final marker. Turn onto Parliament Square. I cannot walk now, cannot walk now, not now, not on Birdcage Walk. Every step is a challenge. Run/jog. Keep going. Not noticing the crowds, trying to focus. Look out for the family but not there despite their best efforts. The 600 metres sign, really, so far to go?
Under the 26 mile steps. The Palace. 400 metres. One more corner to turn. 200 metres. The finish line in sight. Really? I've almost done it! The PA plays something uplifting, I don't remember what, as the announcer reminds us we're "finishers of the London Marathon 2008". Nearly there. Go for the centre gate, the ones the winners use. Follow the blue line. Look around. No fancy dress or old men, just other tired runners. Nearly there. Can't pick up speed. Keep going. Arms up for the photo, keep them there, over the line, yes, yes, yes. I've finished it! Stop the watch. 4h29m22s. That was too close to 4h30.
I've done it. I've run the marathon.
Chip removed, photo taken, goodie bag received, on with the tin foil, a hobble to the exit. Pass a runner collapsed on the ground. To Admiralty Arch. Family and friends. It's all gone by so quickly, was that really four and a half hours? I feel fine, but I'm done.
And I'll do better next time.
