Looking for my other runs? They are here: Running Index.
First off, it's not a "race", it's a run. Well at my speed it's more of a jog. Secondly, although I call this a "report", I regret that the pain has caused large sections of the run to be extinguished from my memory but I will do my best...
I'd like to start by thanking everybody who has supported me by encouragement, donation, interest, scorn or ridicule. It all helps! The London Marathon is such a big event and generates interest in so many people. At the time of writing, the day after the event, I think have raised just under £2,000 including Gift Aid for the Chickenshed Theatre including online and offline donations and pledges. I am hoping a little more may trickle in and it would be most welcome direct to me or via my donation page.
I was running with my friend Nigel who a) had flown back from Canada on the preceding Thursday after a delayed return due to Iceland and so was jet-lagged b) had done his ankle in and so had it strapped up tightly and c) is a gritty Northener who wasn't going to be defeated. For my sins I can claim horrible "runner's knee" in both knees which had interrupted my running from 5 weeks out but that's about it for valid excuses.
The great day arrived and I met up with Nigel at the tube station for our journey south to London. I didn't think we were meant to be running in fancy dress but Nigel saw fit to come as a Polish builder. In fact the idea is to wear clothes you don't mind discarding just before the start. According to Karen I could have taken half my wardrobe.
We stepped out of the train into cold, heavy rain and it was pretty miserable. Where was the scorching hot sun we had been promised...well we didn't want that anyway. Runners are never happy with the weather. On the walk through Greenwich we passed an over-flowing little-bin with hundreds of discarded water bottles around it. On the top was a 2 foot high cone of discarded banana skins. Very impressive! I wonder if the first person to leave a skin could guess how it might turn out?
Race nerves got the better of us and we sought out the mens toilets which appeared to be a hundred yards or more past the female urinals. We noticed some blokes doing what some blokes do in times like this - peeing up the back of the ladies make-shift tent to the sound of indignant comments coming from within aided visually by some translucent parts of the tent. Allegedly.
My race preparation had included putting a Chickenshed logo on my back and very clearly marking "Go Grahame" hoping for some support. Karen had cut up the Chickenshed tabard they had supplied and sewn it on. Nigel's pathetic attempt was to get a blue T-shirt and write "NIGEL" on it using Tipp-ex on the front which then bled through to the back of the shirt with ghostly mirror writing. Of course, Nigel was spot on and I was miles off. His lettering was distinctive and short. Ideal. Maybe if I had run backwards I would have got more support? I could hardly of got less. Every few yards women, not all of them mentally derranged or desperate, were calling out "Go on Nigel". Even some blokes too. I think one person shouted out "Go on Chickenshed Grahame" after 17 miles but I may have misheard. There were even a row of girls calling out "Nigel. Nigel. Nigel." at one point. I helpfully told Nigel that it was because he looked completely shagged and about to drop. His answer was to say that he welcomed all support of any kind. Having tried to upset his superior position for endless miles I gave up and started "bigging" him up for the expectant crowds. Next time I am going to call myself Nigel too I think. I did consider reversing my shirt and Nigel kindly offered to swap shirts. I passed on this opportunity...
The support from the crowd was fanatastic. Noisy, friendly, funny. The best sign was "Pubs waiting". I didn't feel it appropriate to start arguing about apostrophes. Second best was "How are your nipps?". "Sore" came the answer although no blood unlike some. The music was good too - a balcony on a pub converted to a pirate ship with the band in costume, a group of 10 or so people on a balcony singing Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now", the drums in the underpass reverberating around our heads, the sole trumpeter who surely can't have played for hours on end and the war veteran in the bath chair and blannket ringing his bell
And to the run itself: we started off at 9min 30 miles and that slipped to average just over 10 min miles for a time of 4 hours 26 minutes. There was never a chance of breaking 4 hours and I don't think I could have gone any faster this time and couldn't see the point. Next time(?). My knees started hurting after just 2 miles but luckily a load of other muscles joined in so by 8-10 miles I couldn't feel the pain of the knees. Oh and I had sore feet too. Nigel kept popping Ibuprofen into his mouth and grittily hung in there. We saw his in-laws after 12 miles and Karen and his wife Natasha after 22 miles. I wasn't too good by then but was determined to carry on. Those last few miles were very, very tough.
Karen and Natasha, and her youngest, Noah, met us at the meet and greet area with very welcome refreshments and clothes which was really appreciated. Today I feel I know what the Daleks feel like: challenged by stairs! A session at the physio has helped though.
Every runner, every spectator, every official or helper were friendly, happy or just delirious and helped to make a wonderful day. It's a great day for London, Londoners and visitors.
The total raised looks like being about £2,000. Thanks again to everyone!
Grahame