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No Longer a Marathon Virgin

I’ve been trying to think of a word to sum up yesterday, but I can’t.

I will tell you I’ve barely trained. I had every intention but I got this really bad cough which the doctor wrongly diagnosed as exercise induced asthma and told me not to run. And I’ve had really bad leg pains, my period a few months back I was laid in bed for 2 days in agony. That’s never happened before. My sister trying to kill herself on 8 January 08 didn’t help. I do think I allowed all the things to conspire against me and perhaps use them as an excuse.

I’ve had less than 10 training sessions. And apart from when I walked 2.9 miles 3 weeks ago, I’d only even gone three times around the park which is half a mile about. And I did run 3 times around the park. No I did it in 100-150 metre spurts.

But I always knew I could walk it. I don’t have a car, and unlike most people in the West who rely on cars I do walk. Probably between 20-40 miles a week.

I’ll tell you a funny story. Four years ago I went to Tampa for about 4 days to see a Cirque du Soleil show. Whilst there I decided I wanted to go to Busch Gardens. My hotel was only down the road from it, according to the map 2 miles. The hotel I stayed in was great but the staff looked really ill, greasy, over weight and they were offering massages, which didn’t inspire any confidence the way they looked. I asked to make sure I had the directions right. When I asked them how far to walk the look on their face was priceless. They said you can’t walk. I said why? They replied it’s too far, 2 miles. I’m sorry but 2 miles to me isn’t far. It’s about 40-45 minutes. And it was just down the road.

So I walked, got lost in Busch Gardens, some w**** deliberately tipped the boat up and I got drenched, and I got lost trying to get out. It took me an age to find my way out. On top of that I got badly sunburned.

So I knew I could walk the marathon.

My initial goal having not trained was to run at every mile marker for as long as I could and then walk the rest of each mile.

The morning of the marathon

The night before my legs were hurting and I was contemplating whether to pull out. I had a hot shower and went to bed. As usual I had left things to the last minute and so didn’t have a Marathon Playlist.

Woke up at 0530, got up just after 6am. Breakfast was pasta, banana, more water.

I was at Harrow & Wealdstone waiting for the Bakerloo line to take me to Charing Cross where I had to get a train to Blackheath for the start. I had to pay to Queens Park as the trains from there on in were free to Marathon Runners. Our ticket was to flash our bib number. An announcement came over the tannoy saying that we had to get off at Willesden Junction whereupon a bus would take us to Euston, and then I would have to get the Northern Line to Charing Cross.

Panic stricken, would I be at the start on time.

We had been sent red laces as British Heart Foundation was one of the official charities this year. I wasn’t raising money for them but my dad died of heart disease in 1990, so in memory I changed my left lace and replaced it with the red one as a tribute to my dad. And then I had to put the time chip in which I did on the bus.

Got to Charing Cross and just caught my train with a couple of minutes to spare. Needed a wee. There were lots of us there with our marathon bags. As time was tight I took my coat off and placed it over my legs, and then whilst sitting on the seats slipped off my tracksuit bottoms and put on my ¾ trackies which I was going to run in.

At Blackheath station we had to walk probably half a mile to the start, and then another half or maybe less to go to the loos, drop our bags at our designated lorries dependent on our bib number. The bags had sticker with our bib number on.

Then I had to go and find starting block 9. Dependent on our finish time depended where our starting block was.

I feel all my numbers had a meaning. My running number was 17005. I was 17 when my dad died and my life changed forever. 00, on another site I have 003 as in 007 but 3 is one of my favourite numbers. And 5 I was born on the 5th. As for starting block 9, 9 is also my fave number.

There were no barriers between each starting block, just a gate at the back of each area and a pole with your number on.

The Start

OMG, I was absolutely cacking myself. I still didn’t know if I could do this or not. And whilst I had decided if I would come 3 or 9 from last and hoped I had a 3 or a 9 in my finishing number I just didn’t know.

Then at 0945 we were off, edging our way to the start line. Stopping starting, this was it. I guess my adrenalin was pumping but when an announcer said over the tannoy that he wanted to see us running about 50-100 from the start line I stupidly did so using up precious energy that I would need once I had crossed it.

Suddenly I was passing the start line at about 09:58, putting on Linkin Park (about 2 hours of songs) and I was running. I got caught up in the emotion of it all and I found I was running more than I had intended to do so in each mile.

The crowds were just so welcoming, they made you feel wanted, special. They were cheering our names. Even though I had my music on I could hear every “Come on Jean”.. “You can do it”…”Only another 25 miles to go” Don’t give up, come on, “Go Jean”. The children were high fiving us. And later on there would be children in the road holding out boxes and plates with chopped oranges and bananas. And I never heard anybody say “my granny can run faster”. I can’t thank them enough. Somebody called my name and cheered me on but also told me I had only one red lace on. I heard that despite the fact I had music. There were people on the marathon forum who were saying that people who need music to get round were wasting a place. Well I could hear every cheer and everything else even with my music.

I did the first mile in 13 minutes, by mile 2 I needed the loo. They were quite clean with toilet paper and I was able to squat at this point.

But because I was running more than I intended to do, I hadn’t trained to run this much, from mile 1 I was starting to feel my legs ache slightly.

I did the first 3 miles in about 41 minutes.

By mile 4 I realised that I couldn’t keep this pace up. That I would hit the wall if I tried to do so. I could see older people, fat people all going faster than me. But that didn’t matter.

I also so a father and son who had been in the Daily Mail. They run many marathons together, but the London Marathon had said they couldn’t run for health and safety reasons. The son has cerebral palsy and is in a wheelchair and his dad pushed him. Well, they allow people on stilts, the man in the robot who is as we speak still completing the marathon, people in fancy dress. But they had initially said no. I went up to the dad and said were you in the Daily Mail. He said yes. I said I’m so pleased they let you in. I thought it was wrong of them to say no when they allow others to do so.

Anyway, at around 4 miles I used my first Go energy gel, suitable for vegetarians (I’m not one) but I have my reasons. And I decided to walk it. I wanted to run over Tower Bridge and I knew that I wouldn’t be running anywhere if I did any more running.

But I was walking fast, the music was fast pumpy music and there’s a psychological study done whereby the faster the music the faster you go, the slower the music the slower you go. And they’re right.

In an hour I had done 4 miles. But my legs were sore, sorer still after about 6 miles when it started to rain. I had my baseball cap on so at least I was protected a little. But it hit my arms so hard, it felt like pellets being thrown at me. My arms and hands had red blotches on, and I noticed that after it had stopped raining my left hand fingers had swollen and I had lost some sensation in them. But I kept going because I thought it was the rain. I was having no coughing fits and no chest pains or tightness in my arm.

But when I needed the loo again and locked the door because it had been raining my hands were cold and it took me a couple of minutes to unlock the door. I thought I would have to scream for help to get out at one point. So when I used the next portaloo I didn’t lock the door but held on to the handle. Somebody tried to open it whilst I was going but luckily the door only opened an inch and I was ok.

I had brought 2 packets of pocket tissues in case I needed the loos enroute and there were no toilet tissue. The toilets were remarkably finish until just before Tower Bridge when they began to become rank. Sorry if you’re delicate. But I could see shit and sanitary towels. It was and smelt disgusting, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. I was so relieved when I started my period last Saturday as I knew there would be no marathon for me if I had started the day before or the day of the marathon.

I did get a little choked up in places enroute. I was running behind a couple who on their back I could see they were running for a Baby charity, I think it was for sudden infant death. And they had a picture on the backs of their t’s with a beautiful baby girl on, and the words “FOR LUCY”. I never cried, but there were moments when I was overwhelmed with the occasion.

At the 11 mile marker I took my second and last Go energy gel.

I had told my sister I’d be at Tower Bridge between 12-13 miles at about 1pm. Well I found her quite near the beginning of Tower Bridge and the time was 1.20pm, I was doing well. If I could have continued my pace I would have done it 6 hours 40ish. I had turned off my music especially for the occasion. I wanted to run Tower Bridge without headphones.

I ran over to my sister. We spoke for about 5 minutes. She had gone to Blackheath afterall and seen me off. I hadn’t seen her at all, but I had told her not to come because of transport problems and I thought they’d be more of a crowd at the start line, but there wasn’t. She told me I was doing well. And I asked her if she knew where she had to go to meet the Wateraid crew at the 25-26 mile mark. She said she’d find it.

So she took a photo of me, and I started running and turned to wave at her so she could take another photo of me. I ran most of the way across the bridge. More people were cheering me on. It was just so overwhelming to have total strangers yelling my name with encouragement. Even when it had rained at the 6 mile mark they stood on the street getting wet.

I got passed Tower Bridge and began looking for the next mile marker, 13 miles. I saw a photographer so I ran passed making ‘V’ for victory signs and making a silly face. Doh! But that was the last time I did any running. The pain especially as my joggers had got wet which made my legs wet and aggravated the pain.

I passed the Wateraid cheering squad, one of the charities I was running for and the only one of mine that I saw. They were at 13 miles, but were facing the other way watching those who were on the last 10 miles come back. There was a brief point for about a mile where runners at the front were running by us runners who had still to reach the half way mark.

It was at this point when I saw a woman wearing a bikini, which I later realised was Kate Lawler, a UK winner of Big Brother. I also saw a bloke wearing a lime green Borat costume. I had to look twice at him to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

I saw the next mile marker and thought this had been too long a mile, and suddenly they had become 2 mile markers, as it said 14 miles.

We went under a bridge for a bit. And then it started to rain again somewhere between 14-16 miles I think it was or maybe the rain came a bit further along. But there were people making jackets out of bin liners for us so I let them put one over me.

I could feel myself starting to slow. I had spoken earlier to a woman who was limping, her name was Sarah with a blue tshirt on. For a lot I was able to walk faster than her, but even with her limp there came a point where she just overtook me. Even injured people with hip problems, back problems, there was an old man who I just could not overtake did it faster than me. But I wasn’t the last.

Anyway, I came to 16 mile marker, and carried on walking. I was ok, but as I went on the crowds were dispersing and there were more vehicles on the roads as they were starting to clean up around us even though the roads were supposed to be closed till 7pm. Up to 8 miles roads were supposed to be opened at 2pm. At 12 miles open at 4pm. The rest at 7pm. I suppose they do have to get them ready. But it is unnerving. Especially as some I felt were close. There were also scoop up coaches for anybody wanting to quit.

But after 16 miles I was walking, head down trying to keep up a decent pace and awaiting the 18 mile marker. I saw the marker. But when I saw it read 17 miles my heart sank. Because I could have sworn that mile was more like 2 miles. Disappointment started to creep in, the never ending road, the lack of crowds calling my name, cheering me on. This is when the ‘plodders’ as the press had also called some of us need the support. The encouragement. And the pain was increasing.

At 18 miles I stopped listening to my music. I had listened to Linkin Park Albums, Grace Hand in Hand, Green Day albums, Gwen Guthrie Nothing Going On But the Rent, Gwen Stefani album and Evanescence album. But whatever the reason I just wanted to turn off my music which was probably a bad idea. As the crowds were less so I guess I needed my music more than ever. But I didn’t want to.

By 19 miles I couldn’t see when it would all end. And I started to think about quitting. But my Aquarians stubborness and British stiff upper lip kicked in. I’m not a quitter, although sometimes for an easy life and because I have enough stress going on I do sometimes give in, like with the eBay thing, I gave into that. I was damned if I was going to quit now. I had come 19 miles. I had 7 miles 385 yards to go. I wasn’t going anywhere but to the finish line.

So I plodded on, with each mile the pain grew and grew. My feet were killing me. They were also soaking wet from the rain. I could see people overtaking me. But I knew I wasn’t the last. And even if I was I would have the distinction of being last. I was proud to be a plodder.

The crowds were few and far between, from 19 miles it was largely just pubs along the route who still had Djs outside calling our names, there were people on bridges and balconies, sometimes I would have to search to see where the come on Jean’s were coming from. But I still acknowledged them. Or passers by who were going about their Sunday business.

Even the police, fire crews, St Johns’ Ambulance brigade, clean up, water givers, and marathon officials were cheering us on along the whole 26 miles 385 yards.

There were some charities still with cheering squads but most were starting to close down which I felt was rude. We were raising money for them, the least they should have done was check to see if all their runners or plodders had finished before they closed down.

It was funny though. At 19 miles, I asked what time was 15.23. So I’d been on this endurance test for 5 hours 25 minutes and I’d done 19 miles. An elderly woman said how many miles and started to protest when I said 19. She said no it can’t be, we must be further. How she’d done several marathons and she’ll be complaining to the marathon officials because she felt we were walking further than we should be.

But still I kept going. Once I reached the 20 mile mark at least I knew I was on the homeward stretch.

At 21 miles I thought it said 24 miles, and as I got closer I could see it only had 21 miles.

At some point I almost took a wrong turning. And needed the loo again. Luckily there was one of those foil blankets which I felt was cleaner than the toilet seat. I was unable to squat so I used that to protect myself. And I had my packet of pocket tissues as there was no loo roll.

I think it was just before the 22 mile mark and we were told to move to the pavement. I saw the 22 mile marker being taken down. And that annoyed me. I understand they wanted to clear the roads, but couldn’t they leave the mile markers up so we could see where we were going. And how far we had to go.

It was now a case of following the marathoners in front of me and hoping they knew where they were going. I wanted to be at the end, but to get there I had to walk. Every time I had to go up or down a kerb it was agonising.

I spoke to a marathoner in her PJ’s. It was her second time. And I saw that old biddy again, still moaning. I can understand it. She was lonely. Passers by were wishing us luck, but I didn’t see any supporters again until nearer the end, from here on out it was largely passersby and charities clearing up that I saw.

At some point after 22 miles this woman in her PJ’s met up with her hubby and he held her hand which I thought was sweet and with his help she picked up her pace and I followed in the distance, looking behind to see if I could see any other marathoners.

This bloke was running along with a bucket asking for money and he had about £30-40 in there I reckon.

I saw the PJ woman cross the road, so I did, and then St John’s ambulance told me to go round the corner to the signs and turn right and keep walking straight. Some other marathoners came up behind me and eventually surpassed me.

It was a struggle keep going, but on I went.

This marathoner who had finished, he had a medal on was walking back from the finishing line and told me only another mile to go.

That cheered me up. On I went. And went. And went. And went. Suddenly I saw a mile marker and thought oooh, 26 miles. But this is strange because that would make Buckingham Palace next to the Thames. Or have they packed up the finishing and are sending us plodders to the second rate finishing line?

But noooooooooooooooo. It read 25 miles. And I’d been walking for about 30+ minutes since I’d seen this finisher.

On I went.

Just over a mile. Come on Bundy you can do it. Then from behind I saw another marathoner, and she had her family with her. And it must have been her boyfriend or husband but he was holding her hand and it was like he was marching her to the finish line.

So I just followed those in front, and those behind were probably following me, all hoping the ones in front knew where they were going. Because there had been no officials to tell us if we were going the right way since the St Johns ambulance crew.

Oh and some American men asked if the marathon was still going, and how many miles was it? Not sure if they were taking the piss or not? But I was polite saying yes, and 26.2 miles.

Then I passed the 26 mile marker. Woohoo, 385 yards to go.

Then I could see Buckingham Palace and it’s closer to The Thames than I thought, and I saw my sister. The rest of Wateraid had left to go to the reception which would only be open for another little bit, and I still had a little way to go and by the time I’d gone through the exit procedure wouldn’t be any point.

Anyway others had had their family walk some of the route so Anne, my sister joined me for the rest of the way, we saw the 600 metres to go. Then 400 metres. Then 200 metres. And a marshal said I had to go the rest of the way on my own. They were not allowing family pass the 200 metres. Not sure what they’re going to do when a mum behind me comes along with her son who looks about 10ish who was walking with her from about 22-23 miles.

Anne got onto the pavement and walked down the side, as I neared the finish line there were photographers so I ran and made a V sign with my left hand.

I had done it. The clock said 8 hours 8 minutes and something seconds. So because I passed the starting line 13 minutes in, I knew my finish time as about 7 hours 55 seconds.

The staff at the finish line clapped and cheered saying well done Jean.

They scanned my chip on my foot to get my finishing time. And that’s another thing they’d also taken down the 35 and 40km markers for our time.

One said do you want the form for next year? I said I thought we could only apply online next year? He laughed and then said you’ll do it in under 5 hours next year.

Then I walked along to be presented with my medal. It must be bedlam when the masses come through at 3-5 hours. Jeez, these people must work hard then.

Then I had to have my photo taken with my medal.

Then I went and got my goodie bag and what a great goodie bag it was too. The t-shirt is so lovely. Unlike the bag we got at registration.

My sister and others found a hole in the fence so they came through.

Then I had to go and collect my bag and put my coat on. Anne asked how do they know it’s your bag. So I explained it’s got my running number on.

I was freezing. I saw a man being stretchered into an ambulance.

And another woman was bent over. A St Johns ambulance woman came over to her and said “I’m asking you for the third time do you want any help?” Silly woman she should at least have gone and had a quick once over.

Although my hand was still numb.

There was no way I could get home by myself, and certainly no way I could have carried both bags. Anne had bought me a present. She was so proud of me. She had called mum after seeing me on Tower Bridge.

We wandered to Charing Cross to get a taxi, and there was a queue. There were a few marathoners there. I needed the loo, so went into the station and down the stairs, but only had a £5 note on me. I rang the bell. And asked for change. She said it was upstairs. I had put my medal on over my sweater, I think she knew I had just run the marathon so she let me in for free.

Got a taxi. Lovely bloke. We chatted. My legs were agony. Had to go inside to get the taxi fare £52. And took my shoes off outside as the toilet floors had looked a bit dodgy.

Got home. Mum had put on a baked potato like I’d asked. She said she was so proud of me.

When I took my socks off, I have only one small blister on my middle toe, and my right big toenail is going black. Apparently that happens a lot with runners.

Showered, checked my emails quickly, one of my friends Jeanette had sponsored me that was sweet of her. My other friend had sent me a good luck email, but I’d received it at 11.30ish on Sunday so I didn’t see it until after I got home.

Mum was annoyed that they’d only shown the celebs and front runners. That the only walkers she saw were men. Bless her.

I struggled up the stairs to have a shower. Every step is a struggle. Getting up, sitting down I have to prepare myself for.

Monday

Woke up, when I turned over my whole body hurt. I have to prepare myself before I can make any movements and there’s always an oooo or an ouch to be heard coming from me. I wanted the loo for about 2 hours before I could actually summon the courage to get out of bed. And when I tried I couldn’t stand up straight and had to get back into bed.

I had breakfast in bed, and got mum to refill my hotty. I was not fit for purpose and am still not. I am walking around bow legged and looking like a pregnant woman walks. And I saw the funny post marathon advert and that’s me. I can barely move.

And it’s because I wasn’t prepared. If I can do the marathon with barely any preparation except mental toughness then imagine what I would have done if I hadn’t allowed things to get on top of me.

I still can’t find the words to describe my first marathon - expedition, trek, endurance test, painful, excruciating, emotional, self-inflicted torture.

Will I do it next year? You betcha, and this time I know what not to do. And I’m getting my sister to apply and will try to get 2 of my friends to apply as well.

Everybody should try a marathon.

I am going to attempt to walk to the shops tomorrow to buy thank-you cards for some of the people who have sponsored me.

Oh by the way, a few of my friends have asked if it’s too late to sponsor me? I don’t blame them for waiting until afterwards as I wasn’t sure until I crossed the start line if I was going to do it. But the answer is it’s not too late to sponsor me. Merlin, Wateraid, and David Shepherd Wildlife Foundation donation pages on just giving are open for 60 more days, Eaves Poppy Project is open for 90 days, Childhood First I’m not sure about but the page is still up. And the website links are on page 1 of this thread.

Thanks for reading