Touched by heroism

Yesterday I felt like a hero. I completed the 26 mile London Marathon despite the weather, despite my lack of training, and largely because of the constant vocal support from the crowds including friends and family.

And everyone else who completed the run felt like a hero too, and that is the unique attraction of the day. It challenges you to believe in yourself, ignoring your head when it is telling you to stop, and forcing wooden legs to keep moving.

And there is no better feeling than leaving Wonder Woman eating your dust, or overtaking Superman as he begins to tire on one of the short uphill stretches.

I found the heat oppressive yesterday right from the start and although I was able to average 10 minute miles on my training runs, I came nowhere near that yesterday.

At the 20 mile mark I discovered that the fabled wall actually exists and everything stopped working, so it was a very painful final six mile hobble to the finish.

But if I found the going tough, spare a thought for those in bear costumes, Father Christmas outfits, and pack mule garb; heroes all.

I would also like to raise a glass to my fundraising Gestapo, Claire and Nic, but they will know what I mean, when I say I will provide the wine!

Today I am nursing my various aches and pains, but while sitting in front of my laptop have already ordered my new trainers…

On your bikes you rude, lazy *****

Although I have been training in rural Oxfordshire, from time to time I meet other road users during my trundles.

Sometimes it is other sweaty and ruddy-faced joggers, sometimes pedestrians, and sometimes horseriders.

As meeting others is an occasional, rather than regular occurence, we always greet each other politely.

Cyclists are the exception. These lycra-sprayed facists never utter a greeting, or reply to one, apart from the occasional resentful and unintelligible grunt.

At first I was mystified; why should one mode of transport make a group of people so unpleasant and so rudely uncommunicative.

And then I realised; it is envy. Cyclists are actually very lazy individuals and prefer to exercise sitting down.

When they witness someone who is showing real commitment, and running themselves into the ground, they are stricken by embarrassment and inferiority.

And don’t point to the Tour de France, with riders ascending the Pyrenees, to prove me wrong.

If they got off their arses and put in 100% effort they could call themselves proper athletes.

Paula Radcliffe on the other hand, could run the London Marathon in the morning, and win the Yellow Jersey in the afternoon.

They think it’s all over…

….it isn’t now! It should be all over. I did what I set out to. I completed the London Marathon yesterday in 4.5 hours, and thanks to the huge generosity of the readers of this blog, and others, raised over £2000 for the RNIB in the process.

But to my huge surprise, I think I may have developed a thirst for this running thing. While I don’t enjoy the actual bit in trainers, running vest and shorts pounding the streets, the feeling you get when it is all over is fantastic. I found myself agreeing to enter both the Great North Run and next year’s London Marathon in the post event euphoria, although I may yet come to my senses.

Also this rash enthusiasm may have been purely the influence of Guinness at the post-event party as my self-imposed three month alcohol moratorium came to an end.

The marathon is much more than a run; it is a rich and vibrant experience, with great camaraderie, spirit, noise, colour and endurance in evidence. Although being overtaken by a Cornish pastie was a somewhat humbling experience.

It is the hundreds of thousands of spectators who line the streets of London that make this event that extra bit special. Their shouted encouragement, and enthusiasm, even when the hail was beating down, cannot be underestimated, and put a spring back into even the most weariest runner’s step. I thank you all.

I would also like to pay tribute to the lady handing out fruit cake to the runners around the 20 mile mark. This was truly the finest fruit cake I have ever eaten and it was only strong willpower, and of course intense fatigue, that prevented me from turning around and going back for a second slice. Mrs Beeton eat your heart out.

Thanks again to all who donated, and for those who didn’t, there is still time!

And afraid I’m going to be rattling the collecting tin again around September time in the lead up to the Great North Run.

Watch this space!

Runners should take things easy too

You can’t drive far without passing signs telling you that you will be a danger to others if you don’t take a break after two hours, despite the fact you are cocooned in a warm car, listening to music, and generally taking things easy.

Long plane journeys, which involve nothing but sitting, and watching second-rate films, give us DVT. We are instructed to take frequent breaks from looking at computer monitors to save our eyesight.

And yet when it comes to the London Marathon, we are expected to run 4-5 hours without stopping. And not only do we do the one thing for a long period of time without a break, but it is an unpleasant experience for most of that time.

I think I’ll have a nice cup of tea, a sandwich and sit down halfway round, just to make sure I don’t lose concentration and become a danger to my fellow runners. If I can find a lay-by I might have a quick nap.

The pies have it

The day of London Marathon reckoning is ever closer but the ‘what happens next?’ phase that begins immediately afterwards is posing more of a dilemma.

Turning myself from a 15 stone lardy lump into someone who looks like they might be remotely capable of running a marathon has generally not been a lot of fun, involving loads of healthy unpleasant stuff like fish, fruit and vegetables, and of course, hundreds of miles of running.

But the one saving grace has been the kind things people have said: ‘I can’t believe you’ve lost so much weight’, ‘you look so different’, ‘I hardly recognise you’ (although the latter was said by someone I barely know so doesn’t really count) and this has nearly made it all worthwhile but then they all ask ‘what happens next?’. What they mean is are you going to to revert to your fat git on a sofa ways or is this the dawning of a new you.

Now while I can’t deny I feel full of vitality and life, and that hangovers are but a distant memory, the truth is that the actual healthy living bit ain’t a huge amount of fun. For God’s sake I don’t even like running. And of course, there is only so much weight one can lose. Once people are used to me being human shaped and relatively fit the only comments they will pass will be about me looking older or fatter. Not a comforting thought. And even to stay in this health hinterland I will still have to forgo beer and chips, and it will undoubtedly require more bloody running.

So there has been reward in getting into shape, but staying in shape sounds like purgatory in trainers.

On balance I think I’ll let myself happily go to seed. After 30 years of sedentary living it has taken me three months to get fit for a marathon, so I plan on another 30 years of pies, pints and chocolate, and then I’ll think about doing it again.

Beware of Greeks bearing news

Pheidippides has a lot to answer for. He is the Greek soldier who was despatched from the town of Marathon to Athens in around 490 BC to announce that the Persians had been beaten in battle.

In a foolish show of bravado Pheidippides ran the whole distance to break the news before keeling over and dying.

Now call me a cynic, but the whole marathon running phenomena seems to have been spawned by one of the most pointless acts in history.

If Pheidippides ran to Athens because he had forgotten to put the cat out, or because everyone in Marathon had run out of milk for their cornflakes, you could see the logic in remembering him. But to literally run yourself into the ground to say: ‘we won, no action required’ seems somewhat misguided.

But this 2,500 year old foolishness is compounded by the fact that when 50,000 or so of us emulate Pheidippides’ less than heroic achievement by running the 26.2 mile London Marathon the only message we will have to impart at the end of our run will be: ‘Ow, that hurt!’

So officially I’m fit to drop…

Life may be no more than a prolonged critical illness but some of us are attempting to die more slowly than others. I was convinced that all my recent physical exercise and healthy eating might keep me on this mortal coil for a little longer than might previously have been the case, but that isn’t a view shared by AXA Sun Life, with whom I have a life insurance policy.

I have just received a letter from them saying that to maintain the same benefits as I have currently, my monthly premium will increase at the beginning of April, from £18.79 to £137.74. Not only is that a pretty steep increase but it would suggest that the learned view of AXA Sun Life is that from the beginning of April I am seven times more likely to die than right now.

Now this may be a coincidence, but given that I am running the London Marathon on April 13th, I can’t help but think that someone has tipped AXA Sun Life the wink.

I wonder whether I can beat the Grim Reaper over 26 miles. Perhaps it will be a dead heat.

But what are you saying with flowers…

This is Paige, my five year old daughter. Paige has been blind since birth and is the reason I am running the London Marathon to raise funds for the RNIB.

Paige is not only blind but deaf in one ear but she more than compensates for her disabilities with a double dose of chutzpah, charm and cheek.

Paige is also the master of the bon mots. Today, Valentine’s Day she asked me: Why do people give each other flowers? They just die and smell of sick!’ (I presume she meant the flowers not the people).

I will be using that excuse later today when I explain why I forgot to buy the roses again this year.

But Paige and thousands like her need support not only in their childhood but through their adult years and that is where the RNIB and other similar organisations play an invaluable role.

I hope to raise £2,000 in sponsorship by running the London Marathon. If you would like to make a donation please just click on the text under the ‘Sponsor me’ tab on the right and go silly with your credit card. Thanks.

Bloggers on the run

So far this blog has focused on one of the 30,000 runners in this year’s London Marathon i.e. me! But there are lots of other jogger bloggers among this year field, many of whom are raising funds for various charities.

To visit their blogs click here with your left hand while reaching for your wallet with your right so that you can hand over what is left after you have sponsored me. And if you only look at one other blog make sure it is this one

The mental marathon

Without doubt long distances are run mainly in the mind.

Your lungs are balloons the day after the party, your legs have long turned to lead, and your heart sounds like an alarm clock in a biscuit tin, but if your mind tells you to continue, you will.

Only when the mind gives up, is it all over.

I really can’t describe the dedication and sacrifice that go into running a marathon, mainly because I haven’t completed one yet, but I do know that nearly 30,000 people conquer the mental demons to complete the 26 mile challenge every year in London alone.

Only now do I really appreciate their achievements.

But even these heroics are put into perspective by the accomplishments of the late Jane Tomlinson who completed many sporting milestones including at least two marathons, several triathlons, and a 4,200 mile gruelling bike ride across America in a seven year period after being diagnosed with terminal cancer.

And she raised nearly £2million for charity in the process.

To achieve this while literally dying is astounding. Her mental strength and indomitable spirit are truly humbling.