Last weekend, and against all better judgement, I gave up hill running for a couple of days, tootled off to London and had a bash at the London Marathon. Me, a near as damn it road running virgin, running the Virgin London Marathon (named after me I guess). Jeesus, what was I thinking?
The weather was stunning on the day though and, all in all, it was a fantastic race. I even ran the first half of it fantastically too, reaching the half marathon point in 1:35 hours (and that included a wee stop just a mile into the race). Unfortunately the second half was markedly less 'fantastic' as I increasingly struggled to hold my pace, with the last 3 miles done at what I might optimistically call super shuffle pace. All the same I was happy with my time of 3:34 hours, especially given my complete and utter not knowing what the feck I was doing and what, with hindsight, was clearly a too fast a pace for the first 13 miles.
I have to say that I was a complete train crash at the end, staggering my way after the finish line looking for Hester, stopping momentarily to be very sick on the way (oh, porridge and sultanas for breakfast then), and finally cramping up and unable to move (at all for 5 minutes) stepping up onto a curb only 20 yards from my welcoming committee of 'fans'. Fortunately I managed to uncramp myself and meet up with Hester and co but the fun and games didn't end there - I couldn't bend my legs sufficiently to sit or lie down (but desperately needed to do so) and had to do a ridiculous straight legged crab like thing on all fours to get down on the ground. Then I couldn't get up again. My sister Maureen kindly battled through the crowds to the nearest Costa and battled back again with a coffee for me, only for me to then sick that all up again into a handy drain, smack in the middle of Horse Guards parade. I was sick all over my VLM medal of course. Doh!
And, when we left, my walking down the steps to Charing Cross tube station was just laughably pathetic. And painful. All the same what a fantastic event and what brilliant, brilliant organisation. And what brilliant crowds cheering everyone on.
Oh and a big thank you to Emma and Colin for putting me and Hester up for the weekend.... and for not taking the micky too much afterwards at my post race state.
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| Pre-match nerves kicking in |
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| Looking naively confident |
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| Perhaps less confident now! |
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| Digging in |
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| "The engines can't take it, Captain" |
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| Staggering over the line |
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| Enjoying a brief moment at the end.... in between spewing up twice |
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| Ze route - cue East Enders intro music |
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