The London Marathon 2017

As I sit writing this, I am currently resting my poor hamstrings on an ice pack and contemplating how long it will take me to remove myself from the sofa and get up the stairs. Stairs and marathons… OUCH!

After the knee issues that prevented me from training properly for last year’s marathon, I was determined to tackle this one and smash it. And most of my training went really well. I entered my taper weeks feeling confident and strong. Then the hamstring… A nice easy 8 miles. I felt a niggle at 6 miles. I stretched my leg and carried on. Eek. Suddenly, I couldn’t run. I limped home, despairing that my dreams of a second, more successful marathon experience were scuppered.

Physio confirmed that I’d need to rest until the marathon day if I’d stand a chance of running the thing. That was a blow to my mental state. I felt in panic mode for the rest of the taper, fearing that my fitness would be lost by the big day.

I decided to forget about finish times and concentrate on enjoying the experience and appreciating the chance to run it with someone else- my sister-in-law, Lindsay, was running for the same charity and by the day of the marathon we knew our target had been reached- we were absolutely buzzing as we met on the morning of the marathon.

We got going and kept to a nice easy pace, one that put us on target for finishing in 4 hours 30. This was fun, the crowds certainly didn’t disappoint and we soaked up the atmosphere. I began to feel my hamstrings niggling away at the 6 mile mark. I was determined to push the thought of pain to the back of my mind and we continued on. At mile 14, Lindsay was desperate for the toilet and so we joined a ridiculously long queue and the minutes ticked by. I tried to keep my legs moving, and as I did the niggle in my knee got stronger. As we re-joined the race, that niggle had turned into a real pain. But as strong as the pain was becoming, my head was stronger. We kept on. Spotting our children in the crowds was a huge lift and drive to continue.

At mile 17, Lindsay began to struggle. She’d hit a wall. We had spoken before the event about whether we should stick together. She had said for me to go on. But there, in that moment, there was no way I was going to leave her. We were in this together! We broke the miles up, if we could run to the next mile, I promised her we’d then walk for a minute or two and then run onto the next mile. Lindsay’s confidence returned and we both got back into the spirit of the event, letting the enthusiasm from the crowd carry us. The hamstring pain continued to distract me but I kept pushing it to the back of my mind… Mile 22. The pain took over, the rest of my legs had been compensating for the weak hamstring for some time. They became almost like jelly. I wanted to be strong, to push through the pain but it became unbearable. As we took a walking break just before mile 24, my legs began to buckle from underneath me. The first aiders beckoned me over and a physio quickly joined me. “I just want to run!” I exclaimed. He said that if I wanted to run the rest of the race then I needed to get moving. Sitting down for treatment would only cause my legs to seize up, I might not be able to get going again. Quick stretch and then off we went. Running for a few minutes and walking when my legs threatened to buckle beneath me. Even walking, I was hobbling and holding onto Lindsay’s hand for dear life. At 25 miles, I heard my name being shouted from the crowd. My Dad was calling me over. I embraced my daughter. Kissed my husband. I felt like I was failing all over again, the wall I hit last year kept replaying in my mind. But this was different. Mentally, I wanted to complete it and knew I could, but my leg was failing me. The pain was all consuming. The finish line was the sweetest sight. I was sobbing by now. Almost uncontrollably. Apologising over and over to Lindsay- I even apologised to the lady who handed me my medal.  She took me into her arms for a huge hug. I am not sure why I beat myself up so much. I know I run for my daughter, my absolute inspiration. I see my failure as letting her down. I so desperately never want to let her down. She is the strongest little person I know.

The weight of the medal hanging around my neck perked me up. We had done it, we had persevered. Not quite the way I’d pictured it in my mind but we had done it. The emotional rollercoaster that is the London Marathon is a beast. It has it all, excitement, passion, hope, fear, despair and the most glorious collective pride. London, I salute you. And despite the promises to myself at mile 25 that I’d never do it again, I will be back! We have unfinished business!