The last 12 months have made for some interesting times, mostly positive, but with the expected downs too. Along the way, I have crossed paths with so many people expressing their support, many I already knew from years back or more recently at my running club. Then there are others I have met during the year, maybe at the Tuesday night club runs or Thursday night track sessions, or others through marathon training. The one thing they all have in common is the support they have afforded to me through this journey. Committing to this challenge is tough in itself, but would be considerably harder without that support, especially at the low points when you feel you haven't achieved.
It’s now a week on from the part elation, part deflation of last week’s London Marathon and there has been time to reflect on how things went, and talk to many others about how they saw the day, both runners and volunteers turned spectators. I can answer one of my questions which I had posted on Facebook immediately after finishing, and before I had left the finish area – why? The answer is very simple, and applies to each of the three places where I have taken part in these events – London (3), Brighton (2) and Dublin. The atmosphere and emotions that go with it simply cannot be beaten. I was lucky last week that there were so many people I knew out on the course at various locations, starting with the amazing Petts Wood Runners water station at mile 4, more PWRs on Tower Bridge, Bromley Vets (BVAC) around mile 17, and family, friends and work colleagues (past and present) at various locations. The support wasn’t just on the course though. Every person who has donated to my charity, liked a Facebook post, asked how the training was going and so on, has had a positive impact. There were even a few messages from overseas too. Probably the biggest surprise was what was waiting for me when I arrived home from work last Friday - a selection of cards from Charlton Park Academy which had been made by the children and staff at the school. The staff there have gone way beyond the level of support I could have wished for when I first started out. Their support has been amazing. One of the biggest differences which is more noticeable this time, mainly because I have trained harder than ever before, is the ongoing support that exists from so many at PWR, BVAC and parkrun. The last time I participated at London was through a public ballot place. My primary hobby was still as a football referee and so come the end of the event, that was it really. It’s very different these days, and not just in London. At Brighton and Dublin, there was the support mentioned above, but that extended way beyond race day, starting in the months before, and ultimately being shared after with so many asking how it went. As for last week, the initial deflation at the finish has been replaced with much more positive reflection. The second half felt quite hot at times in the sun, and possibly contributed to the end result. There will be other factors of course which need to be worked out before the next attempt at breaking 4 hours 30 minutes, but after much discussion with many people, and having realised the distance covered was a shade over 27 miles, I can argue to a degree that I did at least beat my best official time over 26.2 miles – my watch recorded a time of 4:46:58 for the precise distance. It’s just a shame the official result is different. Damn that extra distance! And so to Dublin in 2018. There was much discussion at last Tuesday’s PWR post marathon gathering, much of it around the experiences of London and Brighton, and towards the end, the subject of Dublin came up. It seems to be a popular choice for a weekend away in 2018, at least right now. I hope that remains through to next year – the memories of my participation in 2015 are still fresh and I’m looking forward to returning there to put my target to bed, and celebrate in style. The next challenge for me is a new one – my first triathlon in early June.
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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. I'm not quite sure what to think right now. The Brighton Marathon last Sunday was a great day out both weather wise but more importantly, cheering on my fellow club runners, and many others, to the finish line. It also emits fond memories of taking part in this event in each of the last two years. Most of all, it signalled the real countdown to London, I suppose like advent signals the countdown to Christmas. At the same time, it means this short journey is nearing its end. Easter fell between Brighton and London this year and on the plan for Easter weekend was 10 miles. I was away with my family near Bridport in Dorset. We've been to Norfolk over Easter for the last two years and strangely I found the Trowse 10K happened to be on the same weekend. This year was also strange as I found the East Cliff Quarter Marathon was taking place on Easter Saturday. Fancy that! Add Bournemouth parkrun on the same day and I'm as good as at the planned 10 miles. Trouble was, I must have made a mistake in my planning of the journey time to Bournemouth parkrun. When I rechecked the time I needed to leave for parkrun, I found that it was a 75 minute drive. Add on a little extra just in case and it was hard to really expect my family to have to be up so early, or for me to have the car and not be back until late afternoon. After a quick check, Weymouth parkrun seemed the best solution, and an extra 30 minutes or so in bed. The drive afterwards to Bournemouth was approximately 60 minutes so the second leg was in the lap of the gods. We found Weymouth parkrun in good time. A bang of a drum and a shout out for first timers meant it was time to go and listen for anything important about this course. Added to that was a tongue in cheek who's come the farthest today. Any thoughts of the biggest cheer were soon dashed by Brisbane and Durban. Pfft! Time to start. I arrived at the start pen and noticed time bands. Quite useful in the hope of not being held up through the start, and also not holding up faster runners. All of a sudden, one of the volunteers stood on a crate and blew a horn to gain everyone's attention. There soon followed some jovial song from the same gentleman as I struggled to get my phone out to record a little. He finished his song and talk and the crate disappeared, but only to be used at the front of the pack for, what turned out to be, the Weymouth haka, luckily though, nowhere near as scary as the New Zealand version. Sadly, I was enjoying it so much, I forgot to record any of it on my phone! With the formalities done, we were on our way, one short loop through partially wooded trail followed by a longer stretch out and back before finishing on the second part of the first loop. As I headed out towards the turn point, and probably at just over 1 mile (of 3.1), I saw the lead bike and the leader.......on their way back! The leader was flying and the lead bike working hard to stay ahead. I wasn't the only one to notice the impressive performance about to be recorded - others around me made comment at where they usually cross paths with the leader - much sooner than normal. I headed back towards the finish and decided to push on harder than planned, eventually finishing in 25:24. On reaching the finish area, I discovered a new course record had been set - 14:47. With parkrun done, it was time to attempt the second leg. I didn't know at this point whether there was a cut off for collecting my number before starting and so there was some doubt as to whether or not I would make it in time. At one point on the way, Is had given up any hope of making the start, but with luck on my side, I was dropped off by Bournemouth pier and then ran the 200 yards or so to the registration area. Two helpful ladies found my number and took my bag, one of them pinning the number to my vest while I handed over my hoodie. Never mind the PWR sandpaper vest that had done me damage in recent weeks, I was briefly concerned I might end up with a couple of unwanted nipple piercings! I got away unscathed. To be fair, the two ladies were incredibly helpful and placed the pins safely away from the danger zones. I rushed to the start line, well the very back, and within 60 seconds we were on our way, running along the seafront. I hadn't really looked at the route, nor thought about it on the way. As I settled, I started wondering. Was this an out and back course, all along the seafront, or was the cliff to my left something to be concerned with? About 2 miles in, and with the cliff face becoming ever higher, I decided to ask. My worst fear was confirmed. As it turned out, the incline worked out naturally leniently, with shallow inclines broken up with short flat sections, even a downhill thrown in. The last couple of miles were largely uphill but fairly shallow and long. The bigger danger was cars being parked and occupants getting out apparently unaware there was a race on. I wasn't far off crashing into one - she moved with about 5 yards to spare after I called out. The last half a mile was mainly downhill. I reached this point having not been overtaken once throughout, clearly a benefit of starting right at the back. I was sure I had never finished a race without being over taken before..........and sadly that was to remain. I was passed by 4 others in the last 200-300 yards. Oh well. Small chocolate eggs awaited finishers followed by the bag drop. The queue to reclaim bags seemed slow and when I reached the van, I realised why. None of the bags had been placed in any sort of order in the van. Near the front I saw a white plastic bag labelled 108. Why couldn't those numbers be 180? I waited, was asked a couple of times what my bag looked like, I even heard that my bag had been given to someone else until that person said it wasn't hers. Eventually, the chap in the van, unable to find 180, showed me the contents of 108 and asked if it was mine. Yes, that looks like the one, confirmed when I found my PWR hoodie inside.
All in all, a successful morning on many levels, and different in many ways too, from the pre-parkrun ritual, the sub 15 minute course record set at Weymouth, the last minute check in at Bournemouth and the complicated bag storage at the same event, the importance of time was very much on display in very different ways. Next week won't be quite as low key, or have quite the same baggage retrieval process. In the meantime, there is the final gentle run on Tuesday plus the visit to the London Marathon exhibition to collect my number. Oh, and a little bit of nervous excitement too. |
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
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