There it was, the big red archway signifying the start of our last 26 miles in a year’s worth of preparation. Once past the start line, 25 minutes after the leaders set off, we set a steady pace in the 11 min/mile range which we had targeted as our comfortable and sustainable pace for the duration of the distance. We had managed to control our excitement as we passed the first of many punters lining the streets shouting their support. With the experts voices ringing in our ears, ‘don’t set off to quick, the first half is just transport for the second half’ we just enjoyed the atmosphere, knocking off the miles comfortably, looking eagerly for friends on the sidelines.
The spectators were amazing and it took the first mile to get used to them calling our names. What was nice is that they called both our names together, as if recognising that we were running together – Ahhh how sweet! The course is slightly up and down but by no means hilly, infact most of it is downhill I’m sure. In this section of the course we passed perhaps one of the more insane runners. He was running with a washing machine on his back and was already breaking into a sweat with a beetroot red face. Poor bugger must have been regretting the decision/bet to carry that hunk of junk around the course already. We also ran past a number of pubs and lunatics with microphones. One place had decked itself out in a haunted house style with black bunting across the road and a big grey brick wall backdrop drapped over the building – fantastic. This 6 mile stretch was like the best long run we had ever done.
The forecast was for a warm day of about 19 degrees but it soon felt like 25 as we made our way back towards Greenwich in the direct sunlight, water being consumed and discarded in equal measure. We still felt comfortable though and as we ran through Greenwich near the Cutty Sark (a boat) the crowds intensified and the goose bumps were occurring on a regular basis all the way to the 10 mile mark. With the anticipation of Tower Bridge only about 2 miles away and the thought of seeing familiar faces in the crowd, we were spurred on despite the continued sun exposure.
Between miles 10 and 11 we were woken from our running haze by shouts from the sidelines that were just a bit louder than the aforementioned anonymous cheers. It was none other than Bertie and her friend Mel! They were vigorously waving their flags and shouting their support to all the runners that passed them by – but we got a particularly loud cheer, naturally... So far so good and it was now getting to the business end of the marathon. We knew that we had a lot of running to do and would need to conserve energy for the second half, and I was already beginning to feel a bit of fatigue in my hip flexors and a slight rub in my left shoe; but these weren’t too serious and we pressed on.
Mile 12 and as we rounded the right hander at this point we were met with the sight of Tower Bridge. The crowd was 3-4 deep on the side of the road and each charity had a dedicated section of the footpath to use as their cheering station. The atmosphere was electric and the colour was amazing. On this perfect spring day, London looked at its best and with the added excitement from the crowd, you just had to soak it all in because there would never be another opportunity for this sight again, absolutely magic. To this point we maintained a very steady pace and after waving to Jenny and Daniel Willets on the run off the bridge we were looking strong as we began running into the Isle of Dogs.
Half way though and given the boost from the huge crowd and the festival atmosphere on Tower Bridge we drudged on into the Isle of Dogs. This is where the course doubles back on itself and we could see all the club runners making their way towards the Embankment. The crowds were big on both sides here too and with additional bands and music coming from the middle of the road as well as the sides, the atmosphere here was as intense as ever. More gels, water and lucozade consumed and wistfully thrown to the side the signs of fatigue were beginning to show themselves. The smell of bricks and mortar as we wound our way through the quieter streets between miles 14 and 16 was becoming more prominent and as the heat also stepped it up a level a walk break beckoned - and we obliged. Instantly, our legs felt like jelly.
This was new territory for both of us, as this hadn’t happened on our long runs in training, so naturally we ignored it and pressed on, albeit slightly daunted of the task that lay ahead. The 16 mile mark was somewhat of a psychological breakthrough and barrier in that it was my longest run in training before my calf injury, so anything beyond this point was to be my longest run ever. Running through Millwall was, it has to be said, rather boring. Especially compared to what we had just witnessed only a few miles back. This was hot, hard and beginning to test the stamina. Still on the bright side, only 10 miles to go... What is that smell of brick I occasionally get a whiff of?
