Blog: Will Tidey - Freelance Sportswriter

Running The London Marathon 2006

It’s Monday morning and I’m bathed in the afterglow of a magical and life affirming experience. Sucked breathless through our capitol’s historic streets by seas of loud and colourful supporters, I completed my first London Marathon yesterday and was left feeling humbled and inspired. Here’s how it happened.

Leaving my sister’s flat at 7am, I emerged onto the misty streets of Kentish Town feeling decidedly nervous. The air was thick with anticipation and my legs felt beaten just thinking about it. Four months of lonely hard work had culminated in one day’s performance. Worryingly, my last competitive run came in the 1987 Barns Green Mini-Marathon.

A hint of the atmosphere ahead was soon provided by the Fagin-like tones of an authentic Londoner out buying the papers. “Have a good run son,� he said. It made me feel like a soldier going to war, or a footballer going to the World Cup. More than anything, it made me feel strangely connected to the consciousness of this remarkable city.

Each station on the tube bought more and more runners into the train. Sipping energy drinks and chewing space-age food bars, they bubbled and sparked with excitement at the challenge ahead. “This your first?� asked Paul from Newcastle. Suddenly, the shy and reserved British had been transformed into ebullient social butterflies.

Pulling into Maze Hill station, the masses began their march towards the Red Start area in Greenwich Park. Elaborate stretching routines could be seen on the horizon as groups gathered in their matching charity vests. As we got closer I noticed a man smearing himself liberally with Vaseline. “I hope he washes his hands after putting it there,� said a young girl.

Runners were now stripping down and formatting complicated time devices for the challenge ahead. The queue for the toilets was predictably gargantuan, and many decided to utilise the bushes for much needed pre-race relief. Acceptable to a certain degree, but the lack of toilet paper in the undergrowth didn’t dissuade number 34**3 from reaching an unhygienic conclusion.

Entering pen nine, I realised I had been placed at the very back of beyond. To my left, a man dressed as Chewbacca limbered up gingerly. There was a lion to my right and a few rhinos behind me. Looking around, I was struck by the sheer scale of this incredible event. Each runner was facing the ultimate physical challenge, but the atmosphere was one of relish and unbridled optimism.

A cheer sounded and we were released like swarming ants onto the tarmac of South East London. Both sides of the road were lined by cheering crowds. Some clapped, some waved, but they all helped us through it. Small children gave high-fives, live bands played from balconies and excitable landlords shouted encouragement from pub windows.

As for refreshments, the crowd seemed intent on feeding us to the point of bursting. They served fresh fruit, chopped pieces of chocolate and enough jelly babies to fill a swimming pool. It was a show of community support that exemplified the spirit of the London Marathon.

With so much entertainment on view, miles passed under my feet unnoticed for the entire first half of the race. Soaking up the atmosphere and enjoying every second of the experience, I was running better than I had ever imagined possible. Not quite Felix Limo pace, but relaxed and on course to break the four hour barrier.

The crowd were driving me on, but most of all I felt inspired by people around me. There were blind runners, disabled runners and runners raising money in memory of lost relatives. All of them, more brave than I could imagine.

With weary legs I passed my wife and parents at the 22 mile mark, determined to finish the marathon without walking. The wounded lined the sides of the road and limped painfully towards an agonising final four miles. With luck on my side, I had avoided muscular injury and simply battled the ever-increasing burning of my exhausted thighs and calves.

Crossing the finish line in a time of 3 hours 54 minutes, I felt an enormous sense of achievement. The medal was hung around my neck and I wrapped a tin foil blanket over my shivering shoulders. People were in tears around me and you could see the sense the relief in their faces.

It’s easy to be cynical these days, but an event like this reaffirms our faith in the good of people. As I painfully crawled out of bed and walked down the stairs backwards this morning, I’ve already planned to run again in 2007.

By Will Tidey
http://www.willtidey.blogspot.com

by Will on 16:29 on 16th April 2007