London Marathon
It was with a sense of relief that I woke from my slumber when my alarm went off. I did not get a good night’s sleep: too many dreams about running, too many butterflies nervously skimming around my stomach. But today was the day that I could at long last discover if I really had it in me.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It started quite innocently just before Christmas. A small article in the Stornoway Gazette stated that Age Concern still had places for people to run the London Marathon as part of Age Concern’s fundraising.
What the heck, I thought by myself. I’ve always wanted to run a marathon & I am reasonably fit. And promptly sent of an e-mail to the contact person.
Two weeks later I heard that I was accepted & I pulled out “Running your Best.” Closer inspection revealed that 2-4 more weeks before the marathon would have been better, but hey, you have to play with the cards dealt to you. And Stephen kindly offered to do the long slogs with me. Good idea.
Training went well, until 5 weeks before the race; just as I was starting to run more serious distances. The Thursday night I played squash as usual with Stephen & GG when I fell over my own feet & my right ankle got twisted. Friday morning my foot resembled a balloon & my weekend plans for a long run scuppered.
A week later my ankle was in better shape, but running was still next to impossible & when I finally managed a run 2 Mondays after my injury, it was sheer agony. That weekend, with the race only 3 more weeks away, I did a reasonably comfortable 10-mile run & felt that I was more or less back on track, but would have to lower my expectations of a sub 4-hour marathon to 4:30.
Three weeks later, we stood in London Arena to register me. Of course, all around me I saw only fit-looking runners & the apprehension started building. Good thing I had Sonja there to hold my hand, because I felt like running away.
Hence the relief to get up & get dressed on the Big Day. I wished Sonja a happy birthday (yes, I usurped it), opened Liz’s & Rethea’s Good Luck cards & emotion threatened to overcome me when I saw that both had pictures of dogs & referred to Griet.
I had carefully arranged my clothes & other accessories the night before, but still managed to mislay my socks & a nervous search ensued. Good thing I had already attached my TimeChip to my running shoes as I would never have managed it today with my shaking hands. Calm down, calm down, I thought to myself. Deep breaths. Think of something totally different. Griet’s face when she licks me in the morning to ask to jump on our bed. I swore as I struggled to put in my contact lenses.
I choked down toast, scrambled eggs & orange juice & after breakfast Rethea dropped us off at the Underground station. On the Tube a few other runners shared our wagon & we exchanged nervous smiles. Everyone quickly went back to his or her own private world again. I held on to Sonja’s hand for dear life.
I could feel her eyes on me & when I turned to her, she said: “You’ll be ok. Relax.”
“Yes, I know,” I replied. I did know, but still, I was nervous. What have I let myself in for? The longest distance I’d ever run before had been 15 miles & today I was supposed to go 11 miles further. My, oh, my.
At Charing Cross Station a minor panic ensued as just about all the runners were heading one way & we the other. We realised that they were taking the (overland) train, while we were continuing our journey on the Underground.
At Canary Wharf Station we had to change transport yet again, this time to the Docklands Light Railway. Before that we had to make a pit stop as my nerves had put my kidneys in overdrive. It turned out to be a good decision to have used the Underground because when we finally alighted at Greenwich, runners & spectators were backed up almost a street block deep to use the line of portaloos.
Everywhere men were worshipping trees by giving them an extra dose of urea & the rest of us pretended not to notice. The air buzzed with nervous tension as runners took off tracksuits & tightened shoe laces . People all around us going through the same motions.
I suddenly discovered that I didn’t feel like eating the chocolate bar I had packed nor drinking the sportsdrink I had planned to have before the start. Sonja’s common sense prevailed & I had a quick banana before I found my starting place. Then it was time for a quick warm up jog & some stretching.
Still smiling: Stephan before
The announcer called us to our starting places. A kiss & a hug from Sonja calmed me momentarily. A few minutes later I was caught in a wave of runners as those seeded behind us surged forward. Have I missed the start? It’s not yet time! The thought was still forming in my mind when I heard the announcer reassuring us that the different groups were just closing up. As I moved with the crowd, Sonja & I kept eye contact. It suddenly occurred to me that I was too busy being nervous to experience the experience.
As the announcement came for the minute of silence out of respect for the late Queen Mother, I drew deep breaths & said my prayers.
And then the boom of fireworks signalled the start. This is it! I thought. My legs felt too heavy to move, let alone run, but they stumbled into a walk out of their own volition as the crowd surged passed me. People were cheering & clapping & shouting & waving at the cameras as the pace increased to a slow jog.
Four minutes later I passed the official starting line & I was hitting my stride. Runners were still streaming past me – a good thing as I deliberately cut back on my pace to prevent too quick a start. Bad idea to start any , let alone your very first, marathon too fast, everything I read said over & over.
On Mile 1 I checked my time: just over 8 minutes. Way too fast! I was suppose to be doing about 10:18/mile. Adjusted my pace downwards. People jetting past me, but now even more of them. Good. I’ll see you at Mile 18 when you start blowing out. And even here spectators were cheering us on. Passed an Old Age home & all the old fogies clapping & shouting. Way to go!
I was running comfortably & relaxed. No signs of my usual ghost-aches & pains. The Mile 2 marker came up & I was at 17:30. Oh my. Slow down, brother! For the next mile I put in a conscious effort to run slower & with shorter strides. Mile 3 passed in 10 minutes almost to the second. I relaxed a bit & grabbed my first drink from the Vittel water station. Saw Bruce Fordyce (famous South African ultra-marathon runner) chatting along the roadside.
After that miles blend into one another at steady 10 minute intervals. At Cutty Sark (Mile 6 and a half) I watch out for Sonja, but talk about Mission Impossible! At one stage a pacer carrying a “Sub 4 Hour” sign passed me & seemingly everybody tried to keep up with him. Good luck to you, I thought. Maybe next year.
Here & there I saw runners with South African flags on their clothes. Chatted a bit, but nobody was really talkative. Marathons are serious business at our blistering pace. Maybe they couldn’t concentrate on running & understanding my thick accent at the same time.
Bruce Fordyce came up from behind & we talked a bit. He’s also running for charity & had flown in from South Africa 2 days before. I jokingly said he’s making me feel quite proud of my pace. He laughed.
“Not a bad pace”, he responded. He’s making it look like a stroll in the park, which it was for him, considering that he did the Comrades (89km or 55 miles) in just over 5 hours not so many years ago.
London Bridge (Mile 12) was looming & once again I looked out for Sonja. This time it’s Mission Doubly Impossible. Spectators packed both sides of the road 4,5 deep. We should have arranged which side of the road to keep to etc. But never mind, people were still cheering me on when I caught their eyes as I searched the crowds for Sonja's face.
I crossed the TimeChip mat at 20 km in just over 2 hours & somehow missed passing the halfway mark. I ran into Andries Keun, who grew up in the same town in South Africa as I & the next mile passed unnoticed as we chatted away. Small world!
He pulled over for a call of nature & shortly after I had passed Mile 15, I became aware of low blood sugar & a craving to eat. A Samaritan in the shape of a boy appeared along the road-side, holding out a bite-sized Mars Bar. Lifesaver! After that I noticed quite a lot of people holding out oranges wedges, jelly babies, sugus & boiled sweets, obviously doing their bit to make “hitting the wall” as painlessly as possible. It affirmed my believe in the goodness of human nature!
Near Canary Wharf I encountered the first runners walking – in almost all cases big men like me. What an encouraging sign. Sigh. We aren’t designed for long distance running. My left upper leg showed signs of cramp & I dug out some salt tablets to chew on the run.
The next four and a half miles passed in oblivion. I ran on auto-pilot and have no recollection of anything between Canary Wharf & Mile 21. Except passing through a long tunnel with yellow lights in which my eyes couldn’t properly focus & I feared experiencing the first signs of migraine. But I burst into glorious daylight & everything was fine again. My legs were getting tired & heavy, but I still managed 10-minute-a-mile miles.
Till I hit Mile 22. My pace had dropped to 11 minutes per mile & I calculated that I still had ample to time finish within my goal of 4:30 if I could keep this up. And somehow I subtracted 22 from 26 and came up with 3. 33 more minutes of running, I thought. Just over half of my training track in Lewis Castle. I imagined myself back there & thought that this should be easy; at least I knew no more uphills waited for me on the Marathon track.
Was I in for a surprise. Mile 23 passed the Tower of London & it’s infamous cobble stones. Sure, there were mats placed on the cobbles, but so many people were walking that I constantly had to go off the mats to avoid them. And then came that incline. Only 100 metres, if that much, but oh boy! My legs were screaming to walk, but I continued with a slow shuffle. Turned left towards a bit of a downhill & the pain eased off a bit. Breathed a prayer of thanks.
I could see the Mile Marker & drinking station ahead of me. All of a sudden the penny dropped. Only now I had 3 more miles to go. And with that, I lost my concentration. I picked up a Lucozade Sports from the drinking station & for the first time in the race I walked.
I gathered my thoughts as I was drinking & about 50 yards later I was running again. Minor setback only, I tried to convince myself & managed to run that mile in 12 minutes. I was approaching 4 hours into the race with only 2 more miles to go.
Only two more. The longest two I have ever run. I don’t know if I will ever again run two miles as long. Two miles that passed in a blur of running & walking with the spectators cheering: “Only 2 more miles; less than 2 miles; only one more mile! Come on! Keep it up! Run!”
An older lady & I played hare & tortoise. Seventy if she was a day. Passed me everytime I walked in a slow steady shuffle. Bent over & frail looking, but running every step. We turned right at the top of the hill at Westminster & I lost sight of her as I looked up & had to dodge a gentleman posing for the cameras wearing a sign on his back: “20th (& last) London Marathon”.
I passed a marker stating only 800m more to go & I resolved not to walk again. When I turned right towards Buckingham Palace I willed myself to increase my pace ever so slightly & I started passing runners even as I was passed by others.
I turned right again with the stream & suddenly, 150m ahead of me, the gates of heaven loomed. “Finish”, it said. The end is neigh, I thought.
“Do you know how far it is to the end?” a runner asked as I passed him.
“In front of us”, I answered.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” I too couldn’t believe it. More than 4 hours on my feet. I tried to put in a burst of speed as I let the roaring of the crowd carry me towards the end. I glanced at my stopwatch as I crossed the line: 4 hours and 23 minutes.
I could cry with relief & accomplishment when I walked up the ramp to let the marshals cut the TimeChip from my shoe.
The sweetest moment came when I bent forward & a lady with a smile and a “well done” hung a medal around my neck. Yes, I thought, well done.
All of this would not have been possible without a lot of help. Sonja, of course, stands first in line for my gratitude. She was the one who had to put up with my grumping, tiredness & who had to massage the old legs. Thanks for the “Blue Day Book” when my ankle threatened to sink me.
Stephen, who trained with me. Thanks! Next year we’ll both do it in less than 4 hours. But you don't have to wait for me.
Dave Lankford who with his sponsor cheque, sent me a wee note which, with the Blue Day Book, gave me hope in my darkest hours.
Rethea, who carbo-loaded me with wonderful vegetable lasagne.
Many others who asked how the training was going, sponsored me & encouraged me.
Stephan & Sonja afterwards at Age Concern's reception
All the countless volunteers who gave up their Sunday to dish out water & Lucozade along the way. The kind folks with sweets & orange wedges. The spectators who cheered & encouraged. The girl who after my finish, gave me my cheese & tomato sandwich with a smile. The boy who handed me a space blanket to keep warm. The lady with the medal. They all helped to make my day.
Lastly:
The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights. -- Habakkuk 3:19.
© Stephan Smit 2002