With the day finally here, I was up early to get to Blackheath on good time for the start. I wanted to be there some time around 8:00am to find my start area and get to the toilet before the queues got too long. Also, I like to be settled and don’t like to be rushing last minute for a race. There were no problems with the trains and I duly arrived around the planned time. The next hour or so seemed to fly by, even though there wasn’t a feel of much note going on. A few random pictures were taken, and a brief chat with a handful of other runners I have come to know in recent years, all with their own aspirations for the day. My target was to go under 4 hours 30 minutes. Everything in my training suggested it would probably be close but I certainly had a chance. Just before 9:30am, I left my wife and daughter and headed into the restricted area to deposit my bag onto the lorry and locate my start pen. My bib said pen 9 and when I found it, I noticed the pacers were for 5 hours. A look forward and I found pen 7 to be more aligned to my target and snuck in, against the wishes of one of the marshals it would seem who was preventing another runner from entering the wrong pen. If the 90 minutes after arriving flew by, the next 30 were anything but. Nevertheless, 10:00am eventually came around and the crawl to the start line commenced. For me, it was a further 11 minutes and 57 seconds before I crossed it. The first couple of miles were uneventful as we headed towards Woolwich. A nice downhill towards the ferry was also the point at which the sun began to show itself. Before I knew it, we had reached 5K and runners from the three starts were beginning to merge. All of a sudden, the road became incredibly busy. In one respect, it was helpful because it prevented me from going too fast. On the other hand, there were slower runners than me, at least at this point anyway, who were slower than the pace I was looking to maintain of 10 minutes per mile. I managed to avoid the temptation of overtaking. Around 3 1/2 miles, I saw fellow Petts Wood Runner Mike the Mod with his fancy dress Lambretta - modified since his appearance at Brighton, it was now strapped over his shoulders. I passed Mike and headed towards the mile 4 water station. This is where I decided to enter the ballot last year and it was nice this year to run through around 80 PWRs manning the station. The encouragement they gave me was simply amazing, and would have been invaluable later in the race, but was still extremely welcome at this early stage. I headed on and it wasn’t long before I arrived at Cutty Sark. As expected, this was fairly congested. I had been keeping an eye out for friends Philip and Allison in the first few miles but hadn’t seen them, so when I got to mile 7, I thought I would send a text to them and my wife so they could hopefully work out when I might reach Docklands. When I looked down, I noticed my watch didn’t say 7 miles but instead 7.3 miles. Already, I seemed to be doing too much, even though I couldn’t recall anything to suggest I had already done so much more. I headed on through Deptford, Surrey Quays and Rotherhithe and eventually came to one of the iconic points of this event – Tower Bridge. I knew there was a group of PWRs on the left hand side of the bridge and so I went wider than I should here so I could see them on my way across. As with the water station, they were so encouraging with their support and I headed on for the half way point and a right turn towards Docklands. As I turned the corner, things started to take a turn for the worse. I had been keeping myself cool by pouring water on my head but this seemed to be having the opposite effect when the sun disappeared and I became cold. I was also conscious of not drinking too much. My pace to this point had been fine, pretty much as planned, but something wasn’t working and fatigue began to kick in much sooner than expected. As I neared Canary Wharf, I was not in good shape and so when I saw some friendly faces from Bromley Vets, I got an immediate lift and a short burst of energy. This was repeated soon afterwards when I saw Philip and Allison as I entered the busy South Quay and Canary Wharf, a very different arena to my last London Marathon in 2001 when the whole of Docklands was desolate. Eventually, I headed out of Docklands and back towards Tower Bridge. The only people left to see that I knew of was another group of PWRs who had now finished their duties on the water station and moved to a position under the bridge at Cannon Street. In between, and unknown to me at the time, were other PWRs and work colleague. Unfortunately, a combination of noise and fatigue meant I didn’t hear their screams and shouts. I dragged myself towards Cannon Street thinking I needed to look as good as I could when I reached Cannon Street bridge. In my own mind, I made a good job of it but I was so physically drained by this point, it must have looked the complete opposite. The encouragement they gave me as I went through once again gave me a brief lift. I left them behind and headed into the last stretch. I could see Big Ben in the distance. It was only around 2 miles away, but at this point that was a marathon in itself. As I neared, I heard a shout from my right and turned to see a couple of former work colleagues trying to give me a boost. Again, it worked briefly. By this stage, any hope of finishing under 4:30 was long gone. The new focus now was a personal best, but even that was touch and go now. I was physically and mentally drained and couldn’t get my head around pushing hard enough to achieve the PB. By the time I reached Big Ben, I knew there was no hope of achieving it and so I simply focussed on getting myself to the finish. As I turned the bend at Buckingham Palace, I felt a huge sense of relief to see the finish line. I crossed it but instead of feeling elated, there was a sense of deflation at what had just happened. I continued walking through the finish area and collected my not insignificant finisher’s medal. The walk to the baggage reclaim seemed to go on forever but when I had finally collected my bag, I found somewhere to sit down and reflect for a short while, and to have a quick look at social media to see how others had got on. The feeling of complete demoralisation had taken over and so I wasn’t really taking anything in that I was reading. How could all the training I had done not even produce a PB? That remains a question for another day. Most important at this stage was to compose myself for the likely greetings of well done that I really didn’t want to hear at this point in time, and those greetings came.
I met my wife, daughter, friends and other PWRs, including Mike the Mod who appeared soon after me. After having some brief chats, we left to head off to a pre-arranged pub. On the way was probably the first help to fully understanding the day. Two other PWRs both told me they were 20-30 minutes off their target, All of a sudden, it seemed I wasn’t alone. I had a couple of drinks with my entourage before moving on to meet other PWRs who had run or volunteered. As I chatted with more runners, it seemed like the day was very much hit or miss. There didn’t appear to be any middle ground. To sum up the day overall, despite the result, it was still a day to remember. The atmosphere around this event is second to none. The volunteers who make the event tick over are exceptional, baggage at the start and finish, water stations on the course, and the marshals at the finish. The buzz remains well into the evening. One question I posted on social media immediately after I finished was “Why?” I’m not sure I will ever be able to fully answer that question but suffice to say, there is something special about these events that makes the pain worthwhile. So it goes without saying, anyone who hasn’t done one of these and wants to, my opinion is to sign up. As for this marathon, I’ll let the dust settle properly before I try to work out what happened and what I may be able to do next time to improve. Dublin 2018 is the next marathon I have in mind. Right now, it isn’t appealing at all but I know as time goes by, the urge to sign up will return. In the meantime, it’s time to put my feet up for a couple of weeks and work out what the next target will be.
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ABOUT MEHaving completed 5 marathons between 1999 and 2016, I decided this year, I would try to do it properly and plan my training! Alongside, I wanted to keep a blog as it went along, partly to look back on, and partly to help anyone else who may benefit from my own experiences. Archives
November 2023
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