Firstly I'd like to apologise for the delay in this write up, but as you can imagine, running a marathon can take a lot out of you. You'll also soon realise I have quite a lot I want to say, and getting all of my thoughts down coherently isn't easy at the best of times!
The weekend started with us travelling up to London on the Saturday and heading to the expo at the Excel centre. The expo is an important part to the marathon experience, with each runner required to attend to collect their race number and chip. Why they can't post them out I'm not sure, but it probably has something to do with all of the sponsors that attend the expo trying to flog you their wares.With my cynical hat off, the expo was a fun experience. Surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of fellow runners really made it sink in what I was about to undertake. The registration process was smooth, and despite arriving at what was probably the peak time of Saturday afternoon, the queue was only about five minutes long.
Unfortunately my freebie grabbing skills were not quite up to speed on that day, so the best I could muster was the standard goody bag featuring such eclectic items as a Worcester sauce sample, and a krill oil capsule. Tasty.
The hotel we were staying at was based near Waterloo, so after trekking back across London following the expo, Saturday evening consisted of a short stroll along the south bank to an Italian restaurant for the obligatory pasta based carb-loading. With carbs consumed, we spent the rest of the evening discussing the route, and good places for my wife and her friend to spot me the following day.Rotherhithe and Canary Wharf came out as winners.
Sunday morning came, and with it a nice early start to ensure plenty of stress free time to get ready and have some breakfast. The hotel was full of fellow runners, and was suitably marathon prepared. As we arrived for breakfast we were greeted with: "Welcome to breakfast, the porridge is over there". Fantastic, talk about knowing your audience!
So, all breakfasted up, and suitably kitted up and ready to take on Mo Farah, I said my goodbyes to the wife, and headed to the train station for my commute to Blackheath whilst she went back to chill out and watch the start of the race on the TV.The first train was rammed to the doors, but fortunately a second train came along only a few minutes later and was virtually empty meaning a well appreciated seat. It was at this point that the nerves finally started to kick in. The landmarks of central London were fast disappearing into the distance, and it suddenly became very apparent just how far I would have to run!
Once at Blackheath there was a great atmosphere, with all the runners descending on the park and onwards to their various start pens. I obliged in my duties of pre-race toilet stop, and dropped my kit bag off to the waiting lorry before heading to my pen to await the start of the race.
The wait went by surprisingly quickly, with an impressive cheer from everyone there for Mo as he was announced, and then, we were off. All in all it only took five minutes for me to get to the start line, and once there, it began. Despite what I had feared, and the numbers of runners involved, the sheer weight of runners didn't really have any impact on my progress, which was a relief!The supporting crowd throughout the course were fantastic, unbelievably so, and right from the start they were cheering and clapping for every single runner out on the course. The first few miles went very smoothly, and I'd quickly settled into my usual running rhythm. My highlight of the first few miles, had to be the group of highly enthusiastic Italians, who were whooping, cheering, and "oggy oggy oggying" their way around. They were clearly enjoying themselves, and that enjoyment was infectious for all of those lucky enough to be in earshot.
Another highlight of the opening miles was one supporter holding aloft a home-made side disinterestedly, that simply said, "Worst Parade Ever". Brilliant.
The sheer scale of the race was further emphasised when the two main start routes converged, from this point on the supporting crowds only got bigger and louder. Heading up to and around the Cutty Sark at about 6 miles was a massive buzz, and although I personally prefer running past the Victory in the great south, the crowds surrounding it were so loud. Looking at my times they definitely had an impact as my mile pace afterwards was a bit quicker than the pace I'd settled into.Onwards then to Rotherhithe and the first point where I was expecting to see my wife. Although the process of constantly scanning the supporting crowd for a familiar face can be quite distracting, knowing that there is a loved one somewhere and coming up is a real motivator, after all, you want to look fit and fresh when they see you! I spotted my wife as I was passing her, but I couldn't let the moment pass, so I slammed on the brakes, darted back to her and grabbed hold of her in the crowd for a nice sweaty hug before carrying on my way. I'm not sure she appreciated it too much but never mind.
Tower bridge was the next landmark, and it come into view immediately after a ninety degree bend, and so it was upon me from out of nowhere, a sight I was very happy to see as it marked more or less the half way point. I hit the official half way point in 1:54, and was feeling good that I would be able to get around in sub four hours.
Unfortunately that feeling didn't last too much longer.
When you are embarking upon a marathon there's plenty of good advice that people will band about to try and help, for example...
- Don't focus on the full 26.2 miles, break the race up into short manageable chunks.
- A slow steady pace is better, and easier.
- Find a refuelling strategy that works for you and stick to it.
- Run with your head lifted up.
- Ignore the crowds, run your own race.
...all brilliant bits of advice, all sensible, and all useful. Unfortunately it was about mile 16 upon entering the Isle of Dogs, (now officially my least favourite island), that for some reason my brain decided to disregard all of these things and started to tell me to do pretty much the complete opposite. It was also the time that I started feeling the cramps start to hit my legs. I'm not entirely sure which one came first.
I'm not convinced that I ever truly hit the dreaded wall, but the initial cramping in the back of my legs was then joined by the strangest cramp I have ever felt, kind of on the insides of both of my knees. This combined with the temperature hotting up, meant that my time was starting to be seriously impacted.Tired and cramping I had no alternative but to start walking for short stints, I tried to keep the walking down to a minimum, partially through sheer determination, but mostly due to the fact that the crowd were so supportive, that it felt really bad to be letting them down by walking.
They would scream and shout out your name, encourage you to get going again, "There's only a few miles left, don't give up" they would cry. All very helpful, but sometimes, you just need a little moment to get your thoughts together by yourself, or maybe that's just my introverted view.
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At the time it felt like these walking periods were far longer than they apparently were, with only a handful of the miles nudging above the ten minute mile mark. Relentlessly I carried on, and as we got off the Isle of Dogs, and started heading back past Tower Bridge I got a bit of a second wind, it didn't last long, but the crowds were building and I knew the end was nearing.About three out, I know that the 4 hour mark was going to slip away from me, I needed to hit sub 8 minute miles to even have a chance, and with more than three and a half hours of running in my legs, I knew it just wasn't going to happen. I didn't let it get me down though, and made the decision then to stop pushing myself for it, and to relax, chill out and try to soak up the atmosphere as much as possible to the finish.
Like Tower Bridge, the turn into the Mall was upon me almost unexpectedly. The finish line was in view and I had done it. Although the thought of a sprint finish entered my mind, I knew the a slight increase in pace from shuffle to jog was about the best I could muster at this point. About ten metres out from the finish line I decided to make the most of the moment, and raise my arms aloft in true celebratory style. Unfortunately, doing so somehow triggered a sharp cramping in the backs of both my legs, forcing me to hobble and limp across the line, much to the amusement of the runners following behind me.
Not quite the perfect finish line photo I had in my mind, but I had finished in a time of 4h05:22 which despite being annoyingly close to my four hour target, is still a very good time for a first marathon and of course, a new PB.
Once across the finish line, the post race 'funnel' was immense. Apparently as I was finishing they were averaging nine runners across the finish line a second, so you can imagine the logistics. Timing chip removed first, and then medal and goody bag given out. Off to the side for a post race finishers photo, and then down the Mall to try and find your allocated lorry carrying your kit bag.
I was absolutely knackered as you can imagine at this point, and having to walk an extra half a mile down the Mall to do all this, before then turning to Horse Guards parade to the meet and greet point was not exactly welcomed by the legs. Once I'd been reunited, and had the well earned hugs, I just wanted to sit down. The floor was a long way down at this point, but I made it down there eventually.My wife was particularly pleased to see me, not just because I am generally awesome, but mostly because she had gotten into a bit of a panic. Before the race we both installed a GPS tracking app onto our phones, so that she could follow my progress around the course, and ensure that as I was approaching her viewpoints in the crowd she would know and be ready for me. As I'd finished for some reason the app told her that I was in the medical centre. You can understand why she was a bit concerned!
As for my next challenge, everybody seems to enjoy asking me if I'm going to be entering the ballot for next year. My wife is particularly interested, although she has also already told me my answer.On completing the marathon I had two words which I was keen to post on Facebook at the time, but my battery had died. "Never. Again.". On reflection, that may have been a bit brash. I'm certainly not intending on entering for next year, but may well convince myself to pick up the challenge again in the future and try to get sub four hours, there's certainly lots of things I have learnt from experience that will help me if I ever am lucky enough to do it again.
The biggest reason for not wanting to go for it next year is not the race itself, just the sheer amount of training that goes into a marathon. If any of you are feeling inspired though, the ballot opens on April 22nd, and you'll have to be quick, there's only 125,000 ballot entries available and they go fast!
I am intending to carry on with my running, albeit slightly scaled back, and am seriously considering entering the Great South Run again this year, as I know I can beat my PB for that one, and in the meantime, I'll probably get back into Saturday morning parkruns, a great platform for anyone wanting to give running a go, and a nice change for my legs to go at a faster pace in an attempt to shave down my 5k PB time.
It wouldn't be right to not mention my sponsorship total in this post, and to thank each and everyone of you that has sponsored me. I now need to collect in all my cash sponsorship, and so the total is not yet confirmed, but I am currently expecting it to be a mind blowing £1,460.83, or in fact an even more staggering £1791.79 once gift aid is taken into account, that's not just enough to send a dairy cow, it's almost enough to fund an entire farmyard!
I know it's unlikely but if you are still yet to sponsor me and wish to do so, the page is still open at www.virginmoneygiving.com/davidjohns and anything you can give will be very gratefully received!
