London Marathon - My Thanks to You!

I managed to get to the Start of the London Marathon with no problems at all, thanks to Erica Christie, Iain Burke and Mark Patterson.  Sadly Iain was injured and could not race this year but he had already taken the decision to defer his place until next year.  We had carbo loaded on Saturday night at the hotel and a 7:25am taxi took the three racers to Charing Cross, where we joined the tide of runners making their way to the Start of the 2012 VLM.  We were all in the Blue Start zone and we met some other Scottish runners on the way to Blackheath, including Chris Upson.  Although 50,000 had registered for the event, only 37,542 collected their number and, I was to learn later, only 37,227 actually started the race.  I say “only” but this was actually one of the biggest ever turnouts for the London Marathon.

I met Alan Fitzsimmons in the queue for the toilet and we chatted with those around us, learning of their own particular stories before we headed for our respective start lines.  I was in pen 3 and although I looked around, I didn’t see anyone that I recognised.  This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as I was out to run my own race and didn’t want to end up running along beside someone who had a different target.  I had trained for a sub 3:30 time but with missing some of my schedule had decided to attempt a sub 3:35, which would qualify me for the Boston Marathon.  Although I had set my Garmin to an 8:10 min/mile pace, I wasn’t going to get hung up about every mile taken that time.  I wanted to run with constant effort, rather than with constant pace. 

The weather forecast had been perfect for me: cold, overcast, light wind and showers but unfortunately the actual conditions on the day were far more conducive for spectating than for running, with blue skies and bright sunshine.

I presumed that, like it or not, the first mile would be faster than planned and I was correct as Garmin bleeped to indicate a time of 8:00 for the first mile, which had seen us run down Shooters Hill Road.  We turned left along Charlton Place Lane and I was relieved, in more ways than one, to see that the organisers had placed toilets along the second mile of the route and I joined in with the others, whose pre-race nerves etc had called for an early pit stop.  Despite this, my second mile had taken 8:22. The route had been flat and downhill though and I felt that I had managed to control my effort.  I had also run in the shaded part of the road, where possible.  The Lane changed into Ha Ha Road but I wasn’t laughing, I could hear gun fire from the local barracks and Garmin revealed that I had run mile three in 7:31.  In my defence, I felt that this stage of the course was being kind to us and presumed that I would need to work harder later on.  I crossed the 5k point in a time of 24:53.

Although I was now consciously trying to control my pace, as well as my effort, the next section, along John Wilson Road and left onto Woolwich Church Street, was downhill and I completed mile four in 7:39.  The fifth mile was also downhill, along Woolwich Road, with the home of Charlton FC on our left hand side, but I managed to slow my pace to 8:02. I resisted the temptation to run along side former club mate Emma Bryson, who was having a great race. The road name changed to Trafalgar Road and then Romney Road, where a sharp right and then left took us past the Old Royal Naval College and the Cutty Sark.  A cry of “well done” wouldn’t have been out of place here.  To be honest the support, right from the start, had been phenomenal all along the route and it was to continue to be so.  Being along the Thames, miles six and seven were flat and my splits were 8:05 and 8:03 respectively, crossing the 10k mark in a time of 49:55.

The eighth mile took us up Creek Road and I completed it in 8:03, without a paddle, but still on schedule.  I had been taking on water or Lucozade at every drinks station and had also been pouring water over myself to cool down, however my foot started to hurt and my chronic fatigue started to kick in, resulting in my pace for mile nine, along Lower Road, dropping to 8:20.  I crossed the 15k mark in a time of 1:15:51.

I struggled along Surrey Quays Road and Quebec Way, completing mile 10 in 8:39.  I shouted words of encouragement to fellow Kilmarnock Harrier Brian Darroch as, a long, long left curve, around Salter Road took me to my 11th mile, in a pace of 8:34. Jamaica Road took us into Bermondsey, where I found myself being passed by my work colleague Margot Crosbie and her Gala Harriers club mate.  The 12^th mile had taken me 8:30.  I crossed the 20k point in a time of 1:43:24.  I’ll be alright, when I get to the halfway point, I thought but the 13^th mile, which took us over Tower Bridge, had taken 9:02 and I crossed the halfway point in 1:49:03. 

Wheels Come Off

I was now officially shattered.  If only I could rest for a minute or two and get my second wind, I’d be fine I thought, but the streets were lined with enthusiastic supporters, encouraging us on our way round, and there was no place to pull over.  I kept going but it wasn’t for much longer and the next thing I knew I was getting carried into a medical tent with tears blinding my eyes.  I saw someone rip off my Race Number and I protested, explaining that I only needed a rest.  “Sorry but your race for the day is over” said one of the medical team as they started to perform a range of various tests on me before given me some glucose and clamping an oxygen mask around my face.  I saw a woman being carried in and she was receiving treatment on the floor as I started to recover.  I managed to sit up on the bed and although I was feeling dizzy, I was compos mentis.  “I’m fine now”, I declared but the boss of the medical team was having none of it.  I continued to protest and explained that I would take it easy for the rest of the race.  I had to say a few words in front of a witness, testifying that I was discharging them of their responsibilities and continuing the race at my own risk.  She actually said that if I died then it would be my own fault!  With a note of my decission written on the back of my Race Number, I pinned it back onto my vest and rejoined the masses.

I was still, more than a little, uncertain on my feet but after a few steps was able to break into a jog.  Some 22mins and 21secs had elapsed by the time I reached the 14mile point on The Highway.  I could now witness the leaders running back along the other side of the road, having completed over 23 miles.  I shouted support to Russell Whittington, just before the roads parted and I veered right, along Narrow Road on the bank of the Thames.  Perhaps surprisingly, the 15^th mile had taken me exactly 9mins.  However as the effect of the oxygen started to fade so did my time and I struggled along Westferry Road to complete the 16^th mile in a time of 9:24.  The 17th mile took me into the Isle of Dogs at a pace 9:17min/miles. A left turn, along Eastferry Road and I was having to walk/jog to the 18^th mile in a time of 10:16.  Slightly more jogging, than walking, took me to the 19^th mile spot in 9:37, where I was apparently oblivious to the support of my friend Mike Gordon shouting my name.  However there were loads of others reading my name on my number and shouting “C’mon Ian, you can do it” every time I slowed to a walk.   I made my way around Canary Wharf in 9:38, before being deafened by a crescendo of support outside the Morgan Stanley building at the 20mile point.

I had no more to give but there was still 10k to go.  I walked some more and the 21st mile in the Burgh of Poplar, once the home of proud, rebel Councillors and Guardians, took me 10:30 to complete.  I had a support team of Fetchies waiting for me at the 22mile point and this, rather than 26.2, was my immediate target.  It was getting more difficult though and more and more people were pulling up injured or collapsing with exhaustion.  Someone shouted “C’mon Kilmarnock” but it still took me another 10:37 to get to the 22mile point.  I saw a ‘Fetch on the Right’ sign and then another one saying ‘Fetch 200m’ and then below a sign saying ‘5’ was my team, providing me with support and encouragement and offering me a whole range of liquid and solid foods.  I ate some cheese and chocolates before continuing on my way, fed and watered.  Unfortunately my stomach wasn’t ready for solids and within a few hundred metres my cheese and chocolate made an unwelcome return.

I continued along The Highway to Wapping and the 23mile point but my pit stop had resulted in an 11:19min/mile.  Even at this pace, I was managing to overtake some fellow marathoners as the miles took their toll on them too.  Through Tower Hill to Lower Thames St, the next mile took me 10:01 and I arrived at a tunnel, which I had been forewarned about.  Walking became the norm as runners tried to save enough energy to have a strong finish.  “Right, Left. Right, Left” I repeated to myself but I couldn’t quite make it and had to join the walkers for some of it.  For some reason, when I crossed the 40k point, emotions got the better of me and the tears ran down my face.  The penultimate mile had taken me 12:07.  Only 2k to go but the final stretch along Victoria Embankment wasn’t to be any easier.  I saw Race Director, David Bedford, running towards me and we shook hands before we continued in our opposite directions.  The final mile took me 10:26.  A right turn into St James’s Park and a sign indicated 800m to go and then another at ‘385 yards’ .I eventually crossed the line with my Garmin indicating a distance of 26.74miles and a time of 4:18:00.  I can only assume that the extra half mile must have been added on my way to and from the medical centre. 

I had done it, my legs were aching and I had to dig deep to find the energy to keep me going through the Finish Zone and collect my medal, goody bag and personal belongings.  A quick change and I made my way along Pall Mall and St James’s St to Piccadilly and Henry’s Café Bar.   As I waddled along, person after person applauded me and offered their congratulations.  The adulation was to continue in the pub with stranger after stranger congratulating me.  Mark, Erica, Iain and others, including Hamilton’s Jim Breen and Kirkintilloch’s Gary Mitchell and Claire Morgan joined us for a well deserved liquid refreshment.  Each of them will have their own tale to tell.  Unfortunately Jim was one of 552 starters who failed to complete the course, much worse was that of Claire Squires who lost her life.

Summary

My Doctor had advised me that although running was good for me, it was unlikely that I would be able to complete a Marathon.  Well I did it, not without difficulties, but I did it.  The support along the route was quite simply amazing, my humble thanks to all of those in London for making it, if not enjoyable, still a special day.

By running the Marathon I helped to raise money for the Scottish Motor Neuron Disease charity, in memory of my little sister.  Thanks to all of those that sponsored me, it’s not too late if you would like to join them.