Well, dear readers, I did it. I completed the 2023 London Marathon. What an incredible, crazy, and emotional experience. The London Marathon is unlike anything else on earth, an event that epitomises the very best of what society has to offer. It was a day I’ll never forget, and I loved every second of it.
As most of you will know, the road that lead me to the start of this race was a rocky one, and in many ways completing the marathon was a loose end I wanted to tie up. Throughout my illness, fitness had been high on my agenda, and distance running served me well. When you’re sick, it is all too easy to allow the sickness to dictate your whole existence, and to neglect everything else. However, when you’re training for a marathon, it is essential to consider health and fitness in it’s broadest sense; both the physical and the mental require attention. To fail to do so is a recipe for disaster. By entering various distance running events over the years, my hand was forced… it was whole fitness or nothing. It paid off, and my relatively speedy recovery post-transplant was testament to my very good underlying level of fitness.
I have many fond memories of distance running over the years, with my club (the mighty Trentham RC), at Thunder Run where I have made some amazing friends, and of the London Marathon in 2014 – the highlight of my running career to date. However, my last marathon effort was in Manchester 2019, which was a disaster on various levels. Despite finishing under my own steam, I confidently declared that my body had betrayed me. I crossed the finish line horribly sick, exhausted, and thoroughly miserable. It was the first time my illness had stood between me and my goals. That harsh reality was difficult to accept, and I didn’t want to let that experience be my abiding memory of something that had served me so well. Four years later I am very much a changed man. I realised that if I were to entertain 26.2 miles one final time if I didn’t listen to my body, I would in fact, be betraying it.
I still don’t remember entering the official ballot for the London Marathon, but when the email arrived saying ‘YOU’RE IN!’, I knew that Lady Luck was once more on my side. The London Marathon is the crown jewel of all running events, a huge international spectacle, and I knew it was an opportunity I simply could not miss. I also realised that the 23rd April 2023 was exactly 1,000 days since my transplant… It had to be done! Over the years Kidney Research UK have been a constant source of information, advice and support, so I decided to put this opportunity – which is afforded to so few – to good use. I set about increasing my miles, and began fundraising for this small charity that benefits the lives of so many people like me. Training for a marathon is never easy, and this has been the most difficult of all my marathon efforts. By the time I reached the start line in Greenwich, I was feeling unprepared, but as ready as I would ever be.
We had left the hotel Brentwood at 7:30am after a huge breakfast. I knew that if I were to assemble at 10:00 at Greenwich, be in my pen at 11:00, set off at 11:15, and running at or below my training pace, it would be at least 16:30pm before I got any proper food into me, so I made sure I was full. The coach dropped us off at Blackheath Common at about 8:15, and we started making our way to the various start points. Me and Alison were in Red start, the furthest from the drop off, and we had a few hours to kill. The day had started off sunny, but it soon started to drizzle, and then rain. Sprits weren’t dampened, and it appeared that most competitors were grateful that is was not shaping up to be a hot one. The mammoth queues to the porta-loo’s kept us occupied for a lot of the time, and we chatted with other runners, before finally wishing each-other luck and making our way to our respective start points. I was in wave 12, and I started right on schedule.
The first two miles-or-so are residential streets particular to the Red start. The event is so large, the different starts have to take separate routes out of Greenwich before merging. The locals were out in force cheering, but it was not until the three streams of runners merged at mile three, that the madness really started. Thousands upon thousands of runners, all thundering along in fancy dress, club shirts and charity tops… It was quite a sight. The route initially heads East, towards Woolwich, before turning back West, towards Greenwich and the first of the landmarks, The Cutty Sark. By this point the streets were lined either side several people deep, all cheering, playing music, and banging drums. Kerry had made her way here, and had secured a great spot at the bow of the ship. I saw her from about 100 yards away, which was a huge emotional boost. I stopped for a comedy photo (see below) before continuing on towards Rotherhithe and Tower Bridge.
Tower Bridge is a major landmark, and the marathon offers a unique vantage point. As far as I know, there is no other (safe) way to stand beneath these grand arches and see the bridge from the centre of the carriageway. I was momentarily awe-struck, and a fellow runner said ‘I’m walking so I can take this in!’. I agreed… we walked briskly together towards the brow, taking in the spectacular scenes, before picking up the pace again for the TV cameras and turning left, heading East once more. This is where we saw the faster runners returning from their tour of the Business District. Some of them looked pained, the effort telling on their faces. I wondered what they made of us, all fresh and bouncy! I saw the ‘Kidney Research UK’ cheering point, and did a load of High-Fives. I was half way and the going was good.
Miles 16 to 19 took us around the Isle of Dogs and Canary Wharf, which is where the GPS went a little haywire. At mile 17, I spotted a chap walking who had a CALM (The Campaign Against Living Miserably) T-Shirt on, so I walked for a few minutes and we had a chat. I told him about my Donor Chris, and how his family had raised money for CALM since his death. His name was also Dan, and he told me about his uncle who was on dialysis awaiting a transplant. It seems the universe really does have patterns to it – we are all connected somehow. I forced some money into his sweaty hand, we wished each-other luck, and I made my way onward. At Mile 18 I saw Kerry again. She had somehow made it through the Greenwich Foot Tunnel and had been waiting on the Isle of Dogs. I was relieved, as I though we had missed each-other. I accepted the wine-gums with enthusiasm before scurrying off, slightly reluctantly, I could quite happily have stayed put. Around mile 20, my friend and fellow club-mate Jane came bounding up behind me. I was at a stage when I really need a boost, and I was very glad to see her.
Jane and I ran the last 6 miles of the race together. I was starting to flag, as I had anticipated… My quads were on fire and felt detached from my legs, but I knew from prior experience that it’s the final 10km of the marathon that makes us. This is where it counts. Jane and I chatted, and she pep-talked me along the way. I encouraged her to go on, as she was clearly in better shape than me, but she insisted on teaming up. As club mates, we know that we’re stronger together. Once we were headed back in the right direction i.e. towards Westminster, the crowds were getting seriously loud… the constant cheering, music, and drumming was like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Groups of strangers screaming your name and telling you you’re awesome, children high fiving runners and offering sweets, people and communities of every variety, crammed together and cheering you on. This is what makes London unique… the very best of humanity, on display.
The final four miles took us past the Tower of London to the south, the City of London to the north, and along the sweeping Victoria Embankment towards the finish. Across the Thames the London Eye hove into view, and then ‘Big Ben’. As the crowds roared we were surrounded by equally exhausted runners, and we made progress as best we could. We knew we were on the home-stretch and that times were not important. Finishing was. We grabbed a quick selfie with the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben in the background, before turning right into Parliament Square. There were even more people here, which only added to the uniquely grandiose backdrop. Now on Birdcage Walk, Buckingham Palace appeared and we could almost taste the flapjack. As we rounded The Spur onto The Mall, the course opened out and we could finally see the finish. We crossed the line together, and I have never been so relieved in my life. We had done it, and I never had to do it again!
All runners sometimes hear that inner voice that questions what on earth we’re doing, and why the hell we’re doing it. But for every time my mind posed that question, I knew the response. There was a point in time, not very long ago, when I though I would never be able to do this again. But thanks to the kindness of others and the brilliance of our beloved NHS, I found that I could. With all that has been gifted to me, when combined with the opportunity to help those less fortunate than me (whilst also tying up that Manchurian loose end) it was an easy decision to make. Ultimately, the reason I took part was because wellness is a gift, which is transient and sometimes fleeting, and I intend to make full use of opportunities as and when they arise. Together we have raised £2,563 for Kidney Research UK (Including Gift Aid), which has exceeded even my wildest dreams. I am simply overwhelmed by the generosity of you all, and my gratitude is deeper than I can ever say.
My take-away from this experience is that 26.2 miles is never something you should attempt on a whim. But, as with any challenges we face, if you believe you can do it, you most probably will. And if you believe you can’t, then you most certainly won’t.
Whether or not you should? Well, I’ll leave that one up to you…
Laters…
P.S. I have decided to hang up my Marathon Shoes. So has Sir Mo… Coincidence? I think not!
#R24TRC 