I can honestly say that 13th April was one of the best days of my life. If you have never been involved with a London Marathon – whether as a supporter or runner – I would strongly urge you to as it is such an enjoyable & exhilarating day (unless you’re running when at times it’s quite the opposite!) when thousands of people come together across London creating the most amazing, vibrant, alive atmosphere which cannot be portrayed on pen & paper or TV footage.
I write this a week after the event, with a smile on my face, still on a high & buzzing from the fantastic experience.
For the first half I was flying…. in stark contrast to the lonely country roads and laborious treadmill I’d been training on, I was suddenly running through one big giant, colourful party, hearing all different types of live music. Through the rich and poor suburbs of London, the crowd support was vast, a bursting wall of encouraging noise, strangers calling my name (printed on my T-shirt) and beautiful, smiling kids from all different ethnic backgrounds high-fiving me.
At times I just could not wipe the smile off my face, soaking up the good will and encouragement generously being showered on us runners. Other times I wanted to burst out crying, seeing so many people running in memory of loved ones (a young father who had lost his baby daughter was heart wrenching), a blind man – his journey in the dark, people with disabilities... it was moving beyond words. I thought of my amazing Dad and my brave and wonderful Mum and all the support & sponsorship I received from friends, family, colleagues, people I didn’t even know. It was all very humbling.
Mile 13 was special to me. Firstly this is the point where you pass the elite runners going the other way and to see their energy and strength was incredible and an inspiration to carry on running. But more importantly, this is where my close family & friends would be positioned. When I was nearing mile 14 my heart dropped – I thought I’d missed them, I wanted to cry. But suddenly I heard a cheer with a different type of emotion buried within it, a familiar and strong sound of encouragement – it was them…..what a moment, a short one but priceless!
At mile 20 I was starting to get really tired, however as I had been up to 22 miles in my training, it wasn’t unfamiliar territory, plus the fact I was looping back round so was looking forward to seeing my family & friends again at mile 22.
Mile 24 was when it really started to get tough. I was exhausted and although I had already squeezed 4 carb gels down my throat, my energy levels were sapped, some people were stopping and walking around me (excruciatingly tempting to join them). I wanted to give words of encouragement to them and shout ‘keep going’ but it came out as a mere whisper.. not much use to anyone I’m afraid!
The last 2 miles were torturously gruelling and I was feeling slightly disorientated. My thighs were cramping up and it felt like someone was squeezing them so hard, holding my legs down and dragging me backwards. I was questioning if I could manage another 10 steps running, let alone 2 miles – it felt like I had a mighty long way to go….(another moment of wanting to cry!). My willpower was seriously tested here, but I had come this far, in both my training and the race I was determined to keep going.
The rest is all a bit of a haze, I was in my own world, just deeply focused on getting one foot in front of the other and knowing my personal journey was coming to an end. Here the crowd support became increasingly intense. I remember a lady looking me in the eye, I’d never seen her before in my life but she was passionately shouting my name– she was genuinely willing me on. I was touched – this really lifted me, people can be truly wonderful.
The 800m.. 600m.. 400m.. 200m countdown were the longest moments in my life; it felt like time had slowed down. I embraced this as much as possible as I knew it was a significant moment in my life. I experienced such a strange mix of emotions when I turned the corner to see the finish line.
After a while of staggering around in such a daze, it started to dawn on me that I DID IT, I ran ALL the way, with no stops. What an amazing, indescribable feeling of elation – so pure and exhilarating. I had always thought I would really cry at the finish but instead I was overcome with a feeling of contentment and liberation.
I ran the London Marathon along with the naked man, Elvis, a rhino & the guy who bounced a basket ball all the way round! I ran past the Maasai Warriers who came all the way from their remote village in Africa, with Buster – the 101 year old man, a banana (!) and 34,999 other runners from all walks of life all with different reasons for being there.
My goal was to complete the marathon in under 4 hours and whilst I am pleased to say I achieved this (just!), I realised at the start of the race that it wasn’t about what time I could achieve (I decided not to look at my pace band and I didn’t once) but more the experience and what I was running it for…
- In memory of my amazing Dad. To raise money and awareness for Beating Bowel Cancer and to achieve something I wasn’t sure I could.
- In memory of Christine. For the others I know of who died of or recovered from bowel cancer.
- Because of those special people I know who inspired me – you know who you are. Thank you.
- On one day, to experience an immense sense of good will and spirit, bravery and raw emotion, an overwhelming sense of togetherness and profound human nature.
Tara