Review of the London Marathon 2018 - 22nd April 2018 (the hottest London Marathon EVER!)

April 25, 2018

Review of the London Marathon 2018 - 22nd April 2018 (the hottest London Marathon EVER!)

The first time I saw the London marathon on TV, I was about 9 years old and sat in a hospital waiting room with my sisters whilst my Grandfather was being treated for a heart attack. I remember being very bored and annoyed that there was nothing else to watch on the television. I also distinctly remember feeling so far removed from the race – why would anyone want to run in the first place? It was such an alien concept to me then. Oh, how times change.

It took me 6 years to get a place in this race. Year after year, I applied via the public ballot, only to get the “We’re sorry” magazine in the post each October. Last year though, I finally had a cause I could champion – mental health. I’ve been working as a Mental Health Ambassador volunteer with England Athletics, and with the continued success of the running club, the #MileShyClub, I believed that I could make the £1,850 required in sponsorship money for the charity. It didn’t take the Mental Health Foundation long to send me a message saying I had a place. For those who haven’t seen it, this was my reaction in the moments just after receiving the confirmation email:

To have acquired a place on this race was a dream come true. My training started in earnest from October 2017 and I wrote a 6-month daily training plan. I was easily covering half marathon distance by the end of December. I even managed to come third place in a Santa dash, and did “the double” – 2 ParkRuns on New Year’s Day, one of which I acquired a PB. I wanted to get a sub 4-hour 30-minute finish time at this marathon, following 3 marathon races where I had acquired a PB of 4 hours 35 minutes. Out of all the race distances, the marathon is the one I don’t feel I have truly yet conquered.

So! On the 19^th January, I went out for an easy 10-mile run, on one of the rare days where there hadn’t been snow or torrential rain! I saw another lady runner ahead and followed her footing through a muddy puddle. Unknown to me, there was a gigantic hole at the bottom of this puddle. My ankle caught it, and I took a swim. I looked exactly like Elise Christie looked when she went over her ankle on the ice at the Winter Olympics a few weeks later. Sure, it hurt, but the pain of knowing it meant I might not be able to do the London marathon was almost unbearable.

After a workman took me home, and my fiancé took me to A&E, every doctor and nurse I spoke to asked me if I had broken my ankle before. Then when incredibly the x-rays revealed it wasn’t broken, every doctor from that moment on thought it might be dislocated. Amazingly, despite it being massively swollen, I had been incredibly lucky and “got away” with “just” a sprain. As I hobbled out on crutches with the biggest smile on myself to the doctor’s parting advice, “You need 6 weeks rest,” I consoled myself with the fact it was likely to be 3 weeks.

I spent a week on crutches, and after another two weeks gave in and realised that the doctors were right. I did manage to get back to running after 5 and a half weeks, but it was very slow and initially short distances. Despite not running for most of February, by the time the London marathon came around, I had managed to complete 3 long slow training runs of 15, 18 and 20 miles without causing any further injury to my ankle.

And soon, there was only 2 weeks to go until the marathon and the usual obsession over the weather hit. Some days it was forecast to be cloudy and cool, others it looked like it would be hot. I started to carb load, enjoying pasta, potatoes and footlong Subway sandwiches. I probably overdid the carb loading. I stopped drinking alcohol, and when there was just a week to go, and with the forecast set to be hot, I started upping my water intake and going to bed at 9.30pm to get as much sleep as possible.

Then it was here! I was buzzing with excitement as I boarded the train to London from Manchester. I decided to treat myself and went first class! For those who have read my Yorkshire marathon race review, you’ll know that I attempted to go first class on that train but failed, so this was officially my first ever first-class ticket! I tucked into eggs benedict, drank lots of tea and was even able to put my feet up on the seat opposite!

Getting into Euston, I pulled out my Oyster card, and confidently took on the tube network. I’ll admit, it took me quite a few years to get the courage together to travel on the tube by myself, which to some of you might sound ridiculous. The noise and speed of the trains, squished bodies and the splatter of an unintelligible tube map always scared me a little. But there comes a point when you have to face your fears and go it alone, and happily, after doing this a couple of years ago, getting myself to the Excel Centre to pick up my race number was easy. The fact that the scheduled DLR strikes had also been called off also helped ease my worries.

Whereas with most races you get your number in the post, for the London marathon, you have to visit London on the days preceding the race to pick up your number. Therefore, the plan for me was to travel on the Friday down to London on my own, with my family following the day after.

On the DLR heading towards Prince Regent station, already I was starting to sweat. The sun was beaming into the carriages. I got talking to a guy called John, his son and his mother. John had only started running marathons last year, with the Loch Ness marathon being his first. He was also a first timer at London, like me.

Hopping off the train, I then walked through the Excel centre for what felt like ages, but I knew I was on the right track when I saw people with their race numbers. And then suddenly it was there! The London marathon sign in all its glory! I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes threatened to water but I pulled myself together.

Going inside, I immediately saw the race number collection stands to my right and amazingly, there was no one queuing at the one I needed to be at!

“Hi!”

An elderly couple greeted me.

I then proceeded to inundate them with all my papers, proof of id and registration form. They expertly plucked the single sheet of paper they needed, verified my id, then the elderly gentleman produced… my number.

“Oh my gosh! It’s my number! My number!” I squealed!

I actually clapped.

The couple starting laughing and the guy told me to calm down, informing me that his wife always makes him come and volunteer at the London Marathon because the people running it are apparently much nicer than those at cycling events...

With my number in hand, I then went to get my number scanned so that I could acquire a tag to affix to my trainer on the day, which would show all my friends and family who were tracking me where I was located on the course. Again, there was no queue! I had arrived at 12pm prepared for an afternoon of queuing so was very pleasantly surprised.

Just like IKEA, the only way to get out of the Expo was to go around the entire building. I came across a New Balance stand and there they happily snapped my photo of me with my number. Whilst queuing for the opportunity to do this (which was around 5 minutes), I got chatting to a couple from the Netherlands who were both running the marathon. Just like me their lives had been overtaken by the excitement for this event, despite the fact that we also have weddings coming up in June! This couple had run Tokyo, New York and Berlin marathons (they were clearly very fast runners) and London was the goal to make the four.

I had solidly planned to get my number and leave the Expo for fear of burning a big hole into my pockets. But, given the hot weather, I was on the lookout for a running cap to protect my face from the sun and happily purchased a New Balance London Marathon one. And a mug! I couldn’t say no to the mug. But I did say no to the teddy bears…

I then went on a freebie mission and was handed makeup samples, various creams, key rings and posters advertising yet more marathons! There was even a free goody bag from the organisers which contained some advertising stuff and a few extra goodies such as malt loaf and dried fruit.

But I soon made my departure and laden with yet more stuff, I went for the tube and in the blistering heat easily found my hotel (Premier Inn Goodge Street) and they didn’t bat an eyelid when I checked in half an hour early. It felt so good to unload my bags and just sit with a cup of tea.

But this is London. When I visited as a kid, I always dreamed of living here, with the Mary Poppin inspired roofs and the bustling diversity of everyone living together. I did in fact when I was 18 get a job in London, and even negotiated a long-term rate at a B&B in Kensington. But my teens were riddled with mental health illness, and I remember coming down on the coach and not feeling great. At the time, it felt like London was the unfriendliest place on the planet, with people pushing past and everyone uncaring. The city swallowed me up at 18 and I didn’t want to go back. But I did eventually face my fears and come back, healthier, wiser, older, and in the knowledge that my place in London was as much deserved as the other people living in it. I try and go as much as I can!

On one of my last visits, I had visited the British Museum and gone to an exhibition which showed the technological advancements made in Egyptian study where CT scanning had been used on the mummies. I had spent hours in there, fascinated by what the researchers had been able to discover about the individual mummies, and read up on the treatment of the dead. Morbid stuff I know, but seriously fascinating. So, on this trip, I had booked my hotel near to the British Museum so I could spend an afternoon there!

The sun was still out in force, and it even felt hotter, so I wore my new cap and went into proper tourist mode with my bum bag. It felt so good to have the huge backpack off my shoulders. I wandered through the University grounds of SOAS, and then found my way to the entrance of the British Museum.

A friendly security guard accosted me on the way in and asked me about my #MileShyClub top and I felt quite proud to tell him all about the club. On the way out, he tried to talk to me at great length but I had to gently leave him due to the limits on my time.

I spent a couple of hours in the museum. My main interest was to go and see the remains of Lindow Man who I have read about extensively and I got to “meet” him for the first time. I hadn’t realised on my initial visit that he “resided” at the museum and my interest had been piqued years ago when I realised I had been running around Lindow Common where he had been found. I originally learnt about him at school.

After visiting “Pete”, I then spent a little time just wandering around the Egyptian period part of the museum, staring at the amazing statues and parts of buildings and looking at more mummified remains. Don’t you ever wish that you had more time to learn all there is about the world? Fascinating stuff.

It got to 3.30pm and I was aware that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I needed to get some carbs into my system. Plus, my legs were feeling a little tired and I knew it was important to rest them. So, I went back towards the hotel, picking up a KFC meal and some snacks from a local Tesco. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon eating and watching 3 films! (‘Sing’, ‘Mother!’ and ‘Nocturnal Animals’). Guilty pleasures. I was asleep by 9.30pm.

The next day I tried to lie-in but I was just too excited. I forced myself to stay in bed until 9.30am and then had a leisurely porridge breakfast with copious amounts of tea and water. I had been drinking water all week to keep my levels topped up, knowing the importance of staying hydrated the day before the race. In the lead up to the marathon, there were countless emails and texts from the organisers giving advice on running in the warmer weather. After a relaxing shower, I sorted through the freebies and determined which ones were worth slogging around London and which ones weren’t, then packed my stuff and went to meet my family at Euston who were arriving a little earlier than planned.

Euston was chaotic, but we battled through and all arrived safely at St Paul’s Youth Hostel. Unable to check in early (we arrived at 12.30pm), we left our bags in the secure luggage room and then happily took a walk across the river to the Tate Gallery and ate lunch outside in the sunshine. I was gasping for a nice cold beer but restrained myself and promised myself one after the race.

My eldest was keen to visit Buckingham Palace, so we made the journey, and I stopped to admire the final stages of the marathon set-up and thought about how impossible it was to think that I might be there the day after.

Then the family started to talk about going to visit Westminster, and I just had to very apologetically hold my hands up and say I couldn’t go with them. As much as I wanted to, I really couldn’t spend my afternoon traipsing around London in the hot sunshine, when I needed to rest my legs. By 2pm, I had hit my steps count for the day (10,000) so knew I needed to stop walking. I made my way back to St Paul’s, found a café around the corner from the ‘First Dates’ restaurant and very much enjoyed two hours in the sunshine reading and drinking tea and water!

My family reconvened with me, a little tired from all their walking, however, my eldest, being a teenager with money to spend, wanted to hit the shops so I took my youngest who was tired to the YHA to check in, whilst the eldest went with Dad to Oxford Street.

Our room at the YHA wasn’t quite as good as other YHA hostels we have stayed in. There were two double bunk beds and no air con, which was badly needed on such a hot day. But it was clean, the beds were comfortable, and it was cheap! I spent the remainder of the afternoon getting my kit bag ready for the next day. After dinner out at an Indian restaurant, we took a walk to the train station where I needed to get the train to the start line the next morning, to help ease my nerves. Then it was a quiet stroll back to the hostel for my youngest and I, whereas eldest and my other half went and had a drink at the top of Tate Modern overlooking London.

I knew that I wouldn’t sleep very well the night before the big race, but even so, the sounds of St Paul’s Cathedral were relentless! With the single pane windows open to allow in fresh air, the revels of a Saturday night in London, and the bells at St Paul’s chiming EVERY 15 MINUTES, none of us slept well. I was awake well before the alarm, and then couldn’t get back to sleep.

I was astonishingly calm the morning of the race. I ate a bowl of porridge, drank tea and water and chatted to everyone in the breakfast room. There were other London marathon runners, all of us female, although I was the only one who had run a marathon before (London is my 4^th). I was joined by my sleepy other half and we got chatting to a lovely Australian couple who were visiting the UK for 8 weeks from Adelaide. It was their first day in the country and they were excited to see the marathon, so much so, that they handed over £20 for my fundraising efforts!

After checking and triple checking my belongings, I got my gear, and left, with plenty of time to spare. As I walked down Cannon Street, I could already feel the heat in the air at 8am. Organisers had texted us all early telling runners to reconsider their PB’s and questioning whether wearing fancy dress outfits was the best thing to do. I had slathered myself in 50-factor sun cream and taken water to sip on route.

I immediately boarded a train at Cannon Street station, where travel for all runners was free! I got talking to a girl called Sandi who was running for the NSPCC. It was her very first marathon and she was nervous. I walked with her towards the start area at Greenwich Park. She asked about the charity I was fundraising for and I explained my connection to mental health causes and how I was raising funds for the Mental Health Foundation. I asked her about her reasons for running.

“I’m running for my Mum who was abused as a child”.

“Wow. Is she here today supporting you?”

“No… she died when she was 42”.

I could see Sandi starting to wobble on emotion so quickly changed the subject. It wasn’t long before we parted ways, wishing each other luck.

I continued walking up the hill, surrounded by runners. Lots of people were taking photographs of the day, excited to be sharing the experience with their friends. Eventually, I saw the luggage trucks ahead, and bending over made one last check of my bag before handing it over.

“Jane!”

Turning, I saw a guy also wearing a Mental Health Foundation t-shirt coming towards me.

“Greg!”

“I knew it was you! I could tell from the bees!”

Previous to the race, I had decided to have 22 Manchester bees imprinted on the back of my charity t-shirt. The marathon was taking place exactly a month before the anniversary of the Manchester attacks on the 22^nd April. I even had my nails painted black and yellow.

Greg and I had connected online prior to the marathon, due to us running for the same charity. We’d both shared ways to fundraise back in September, when trying to raise the required £1,850 seemed nigh on impossible.

Handing in my bag and saying bye to Greg, I went to the portaloos that didn’t have much of a queue and were actually quite clean!

Then I went to my starting pen, pen 4, and sat outside it on a bench in the shade. There was a cool breeze and I sipped from my water bottle, trying to compose myself.

“Hi.”

A tall, curly haired guy came and sat next to me.

We talked about the heat and our race preparations and soon the subject of who we were running for came up. He had a Samaritans top on.

“I’m running for my friend’s son, who committed suicide when he was 15. Sad thing is, their other son had also committed suicide a few months previously. I just wanted to do something for them”.

Soon it was time to get into our pens and I was surprised at how calm I felt. Usually by this point, the nerves are driving me haywire, but I genuinely felt ok.

I tried to start a Facebook live video on my Facebook group so that my runners could see me “on the ground”. Helicopters were flying overhead, and there was a huge television screen at the bottom of the road everyone was stood on. 40,000 people waiting to start – I have never seen so many people in one place.

Behind me were two runners who had bravely decided not to heed the advice of the organisers and were dressed in full on fancy dress.

I got chatting to three runners. One was a guy who had lost lots of weight after taking up running for the first time in September last year. This was his first marathon. I told him about one of the runners (Mark) in the #MileShyClub who was also doing really well with their running.

The other two runners were ladies from the States. On my left was a lady from Massachusetts who had travelled over specifically to run the London marathon. Another lady to my right was from Minnesota, a championship runner who had run for her US state.

“You look like a championship runner!” I said, noting the tiny shorts and tiny top. “How many marathons have you done before?”

“None! This is my first,” replied Minnesota girl.

“What time do you want to finish it in?”

“3 hours 15 minutes, based on my half marathon time I should be able to achieve that”.

I congratulated her on such an ambitious time for a first marathon. We chatted about our attempts to hide from the sun – I had a cap and I had never run with a cap on before, and she had splurged out on a pair of sunglasses for a mere £1 which she planned to discard later in the marathon.

Then suddenly, our conversation was interrupted by the Queen! She was up there on the TV screen in her pink Summery outfit, making her way slowly to the start button. At separate intervals, the commentator told us to wave at the cameras flying overhead, and occasionally you’d hear shouts of “OGI OGI OGI!!!”

With the National Anthem sung, the button was pressed and a resounding horn announced the start of the 2018 London Marathon! It all felt a little surreal!

It took 17 minutes for me to cross the start line. I made sure I waved at every camera I saw and pressed my Garmin when I passed the start line. I knew people were watching my progress at home and I knew they would be thinking of me.

My plan for the marathon was to start out at a 10-minute mile and try to keep it going. I wanted to run the entire marathon in one go without stopping. A 10 minute-mile is a comfortable pace for me and would bring me in at 4 hours 22 minutes, which would be a personal best (my personal best is 4 hours 35 minutes).

There were so many runners and the roads were going up and down, but for that first 3 miles, I managed to keep my pace below 10-minute miles, at around 9:40 and felt comfortable. One thing I did notice though was that my injured ankle felt stiff and surprisingly my legs felt heavy. Despite having had a sports massage on the Monday of that week, my legs didn’t feel as sprightly as they usually do.

Mile 3 signalled the water station and everyone made a beeline. I took a couple of sips and tipped the rest over my cap, down the back of my neck, on my wrists, and even on my chest to stay cool. Then I discarded the empty bottle, taking great care to avoid the empty bottles still on the race route. The last thing I needed was a trip over a bottle.

The next thing to look forward to was the Cutty Sark at mile 5/6, but by this stage, other runners were starting to walk. I couldn’t believe it. I have never seen runners start walking at mile 3 during a marathon before. Before we hit the Cutty Sark, other runners were starting to flag, with some being attended to by paramedics. Some were flat out cold.

The Cutty Sark was where the first crowds were out in real force (I’m talking 10 people deep as opposed to the few people deep beforehand) and it was an amazing sight to see. I’ve never seen the Cutty Sark before, but remember watching the stream of runners run around it on the TV the year before so knew what we looked like! And then after that, we were back onto the road, passing spectator after spectator.

I can’t quite tell you just how amazing the spectators were. Random strangers were yelling things like “Go on Jane!” or “You got this Jane!” or “Looking really strong Jane!” and they would actually make eye contact with me and give me a generous, friendly, smile. I honestly cannot tell you how amazing that felt. Particularly from the women. There were lots of women really cheering me on.

The next part of the course I wanted to get to was mile 12 where the Tower Bridge was. But I wasn’t feeling it. I knew the first 13 miles would be the most “boring” part of the course for me, but I had hoped to keep my pace up. It didn’t happen. I stayed sensible and took water on at every station (so every two miles), mainly to cover my head. The sun was relentless. Occasionally, we’d get a whiff of a breeze and everyone would hold their arms out to try and capture the coolness.

The first showers on the course were so blissful. Everyone made groans of pleasure the minute the water hit them – it was so cold it took my breath away.

At mile 9 I realised that my time was starting to drop. My back and neck were hurting more than anything else and I wondered if perhaps my bags from the previous two days had been too heavy and had impacted on my performance.

Despite having gone to the toilet just before the start of the race, I had clearly over-hydrated that morning and my bladder was starting to complain. Nevertheless, I continued on, willing myself to get into double figures (ie. mile 10) and then get to Tower Bridge. Tower Bridge meant I was nearly half way, an epic feat in such hot weather.

Tower Bridge crept up on me without me even realising it. One second I was running, and another second it was there. It didn’t even look like Tower Bridge! The music ‘All Together Now’ by The Farm was playing. All I could see was the road ahead and the thousands of people standing either side of the road screaming support! A BBC film crew stood nearby. Runners stopped mid stride to record the sight and take photos. As soon as I hit the Bridge, it was over in a flash and then it was back to the job in hand. I’d done it! I’d crossed Tower Bridge! Later I’d hear the story that someone had stopped to propose on the bridge.

Coming up to Mile 13, I saw on the other side of the road some more runners running the other way who looked absolutely haggard. They were running up a road with an incline in the direct glare of the sun. It was then a sign went past to say that was ‘Mile 21’! My first thought was just how amazing they were to already be at Mile 21. My second one was, “That section of the course looks like hell”.

My bladder starting complaining again. Initially I thought I could ignore it, but as time went on, I realised, I had to answer the call. Mile 13 is where I stopped for the first time. I was gutted to have to stop so soon in the race, and it was the first time I have ever stopped for the loo in a marathon before. There was a queue of spectators who allowed me to go in front to use the loos which was great (at previous stations there had been queues which I didn’t want to stand in). As soon as the door closed behind me, I actually nearly wet myself (!) and couldn’t get my shorts off quickly enough.

Dashing out of the loo, I re-joined the race and focused on getting to mile 14. Mile 14 was where my family had promised to wait for me and I was determined to look happy for them, even if I wasn’t. At this point, after Tower Bridge, a lot of runners started walking. I still continued to see people being tended to by paramedics. It was quite scary. A thought about quitting passed my mind. I could always blame my ankle, I reasoned. I knew what was coming, a real hard slog, and I knew at this stage I wasn’t going to get a personal best. But then I thought about all the money I’d raised for the Mental Health Foundation and I owed it to my supporters to finish. Even if I had to walk the rest of the way, I reasoned, I would finish.

Despite finding it hard in the heat, I was determined to put a smile on my face for when I saw my family. Even that thought perked me up. As I had had thoughts about quitting, I decided to “treat” myself to one of my gels that I usually wouldn’t have until mile 15.

The beginning of mile 14 was just insane with spectators, so many people were out in force to cheer us all on. I kept looking for my family, knowing that there was a very real possibility that I’d miss them. As mile 14 went on, I realised I was approaching mile 15, and I thought that I had missed them, but consoled myself with the fact that I’d see them again as agreed at mile 21.

I just turned a corner and as I came into a bend very close to mile 15, I came away from the crowd of runners to see if I could see my family in the spectators on the other side of the road. Then I saw my eldest daughter in the crowd, clearing looking for me with a smile on her face. It turns out my youngest daughter had seen me first, but both my fiancé and eldest daughter didn’t find me straight away.

Flinging my arms out, I rushed over and hugged my eldest.

“Urgh Mum you’re so sweaty!”

“It’s water, not just sweat!”

One thing I noticed with my family was that they were literally beaming. They’ve watched me in races before, but London was different.

A spectator chimed in. “You look so fresh!”

I laughed. “I don’t feel it!” I looked behind me and saw that many of the runners were walking.

“How did Mo do?” I asked.

“He didn’t win,” my youngest chirped in.

I thought, if Mo Farah didn’t win, then that means he found it tough too.

I turned to my other half. “Don’t wait for me at mile 21. I’m not having a great race because of the heat and I won’t PB today. There’s no point you guys hanging around in this heat when I don’t know when I’ll finish. Go home.”

I looked at the bags they were carrying and knew it had been the right decision. They didn’t put up much of a fight. They had been standing around for 3 hours in the sun and the journey back to Manchester on the train was always going to be busy.

I kissed them good bye and continued on my way. I think they were surprised that I had stopped to talk to them, but now it was about enjoying the rest of the race and trying to limit the pain and injury factor!

Running on, I came across a man carrying a washing machine on his back. Sweat poured off him – he didn’t even have a cap on.

I passed a pair of ladies running in black underwear. And a Star Wars dressed man, complete with spaceship.

Every so often you would hear the crowds roar, and I figured that either some one in a crazy charity outfit had gone past, or someone famous. I didn’t spot anyone famous on route, but then I wasn’t looking either.

I passed a woman running in a cardboard box that looked like a Snickers bar who was trying for a world record.

One thing that really amazed me was a small, older guy, who ran alongside me in those later miles. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was wearing a long orange skirt, and with his shaven head, I reasoned that he may have been a monk. But as my eyes were drawn downwards to his skirt, I spotted that he was actually running barefoot. I kept pointing him out to spectators yelling, “Look at this amazing guy!”

On route I got handed a gel. I had taken water at every single water station, just a few sips then doused myself with the rest. I always managed to get water, despite the news reports that the organisers ran out. There was one instance where the water came in cups and the volunteers couldn’t pour it quick enough for the runners (so we had to queue). One thing I have never experienced in marathons before is running through trampled on paper cups that have turned to mush. I also found it strange when running through the stations offering Lucozade or gels – the ground for around 20 metres would be very, very sticky underfoot.

Getting through mile 15, I reasoned that mile 16 meant “only” 10 miles left. I knew that if I dug deep and just focused on getting through to mile 20 then the crowds would get me through the last 10k. I seemed to catch a second wind here with the gels kicking in, and started to push on.

Ahead, I saw a lady running for a children’s bereavement charity (forgive me I can’t remember which one). On her back, she had photos of her with a young toddler. I went to run alongside her – she looked younger than me.

“I think you’re doing amazing,” I told her, moved by her story.

She nodded. “You won’t believe what just happened.”

I shook my head.

“I just came on!”

“Oh my gosh! No! What a ball ache! At mile 16!”

“Do you have anything by any chance?”

“Oh gosh no, sorry, not on me. Listen, no one is going to care at this point. Just go with it.”

“My husband’s waiting for me at mile 19 and he has been briefed!”

I laughed and continued running ahead. Occasionally I’d see the Gherkin or the Shard in the skyline.

After sipping water at mile 17 and dousing myself, I developed a scratchy throat. It was very strange. I began coughing to try and dislodge the feeling, but it didn’t help. The scratchy throat then developed into nausea. Mile 17 to 18 was spent trying not to be sick. I was more concerned about losing fluids than actually being sick. I was able to shift this feeling after another few sips of water.

There was a good amount of showers on route, however, there weren’t enough at each station. They would usually be on just one side of the road, and you had to queue/walk through them, which meant I didn’t stop at many of them. The fire service had been brilliant, and at a couple of points in the race they had a huge hose spilling water over the course which was easy to run through – and it was so cold it took your breath away. On more than one occasion, spectators laughed at us runners going through the cold water and in unison going, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

Despite my time being slower than I had hoped, the miles definitely ticked away. Usually in marathons, you get focused on completing the next mile, but in my case, I would often check my watch and I would be further ahead than I anticipated. There is a blue line that runs on the floor of the course which the Elite runners follow and outlines the exact 26.2 mile route. At times, I tried to follow this route, but at others if there was a shaded part of the road I would stay in the shade. My watch showed that I added about 0.4 of a mile to my distance.

Mile 20 came and passed me by, as did miles 21, 22 and 23. They just seemed to fly by. As has happened to me before in marathons, I got confused over how many miles were left to do, and as I stopped to stretch out, a marshal confirmed to me that there was less than 5k to go.

“You’re nearly there!”

But I didn’t want it to end.

Shocked, I came across Minnesota girl, recognising her by her £1 sunglasses.

“Hey!” I shouted. She was walking.

She threw her hands up.

“It’s just too hot!”

“Not far to go now, have a good finish.”

Checking my watch, I could see I was going to come in around the 5 hours mark. The pacers had really confused me on route – early on I ran with the 3:45 hour finish pacer, but then was passed by a 5-hour pacer, then a 4:15 pacer. It turns out that the pacers were for different coloured groups of runners but I didn’t realise that at the time. I ended up running the last few miles close to two pacers which showed a 4:45 hour finish time, but this was for a different group!

Going under a bridge, in the shade, speakers played the soundtrack to a motivational video that had been published on Facebook in the weeks leading up to the marathon.

Coming out of the bridge, the crowds went wild. Water was available at every mile from this point onwards but I didn’t need it. I knew there would be water at the end.

Every so often you would pass an island of spectators in the middle of the course, surrounded by marshals. The marshals were able to direct the flow of runners to allow spectators to cross to the other side, something I have never seen before.

The further I ran, the louder the crowds became. I saw the London Eye on my left and thought of the movie ‘Run Fatboy Run’. I saw Westminster Bridge and thought of that horrendous terrorist attack, and of the police officer who had survived and was running the marathon. I started to see runners collapsing and being helped by other runners to make it to the end. I thought of all the wonderful people who had supported me. I didn’t want it to be over, but it nearly was.

I knew that I was passing Big Ben to my left but didn’t have the energy to look up. I did turn to see the Houses of Parliament out the corner of my eye, and Westminster Abbey. The spectators were incredible. There was no stopping, I was running on the good feeling of everyone watching.

I knew Buckingham Palace couldn’t be far away. I wondered if my phone had survived the amount of water being thrown over it. I thought of my runners back home, watching me remotely, and I stopped! I tried to get Facebook live up on my phone so that I could show everyone back home the last half mile of the race, but the phone networks were far too busy. I put my phone away and focused on enjoying every single last moment.

Buckingham Palace came up on the left, and the Mall didn’t seem as long as I had anticipated. I saw photographers lining up the route. A marshal went to the aid of a runner who was struggling to walk to the finish.

The song, "Always look on the bright side of life" was playing, and myself and another runner did a little jig!

I saw the finish line which said, “YOU ARE THE #SPIRIT OF LONDON”.

My smile said it all.

I flung my arms out at the finish and yelled “YES! I’VE DONE IT!”

Following the runners ahead, I walked to get my medal. A man in front of me broke down in tears as a woman marshal placed the medal around his neck. I managed to hold it together and let her place the medal around my neck, something I wasn’t sure I would ever have seen. The temperature recorded that day was 24.1 degrees Celsius, but even on the ground it was hotter (most likely late 20's).

At the time of writing, I raised £2,671.65 (including gift aid) for the Mental Health Foundation. My recovery from this marathon has been the best yet, with a little soreness, blistering and chafing, but nothing as bad as in previous marathons. My finish time at London was 5 hours 8 minutes, so I am keen to do another to get a personal best that now feels within reach.

It wasn’t until I got home, that I really also appreciated the level of support I had received from my supporters. I had hundreds of messages, a selection of them are below:

I even discovered that I had appeared on the BBC:

What really brought it home though was a phone call with my Mum. She wanted to check that I was ok. To put this in context, last month, I had this conversation with her:

“Mum. Check out page 31 of this month’s Runners World! I’m in it, and so is my running club!”

“Yes dear (sigh), I will.”

This was the conversation I had after the London marathon.

“Mum, I’m fine, it was a great day.”

“I can’t believe you’ve done it! At your age! With all those youngsters! In that heat! I am SO SO PROUD OF YOU. I saw you on TV! Just to have completed it is amazing! What a success!!!”

Huge thanks to the organisers of the marathon. My only gripe about the event was the £65 I had to pay to get my photos. After spending so much to get to London, and raising so much for charity, this feels a little cheeky given that most race photos for other events cost half this.

Thanks to EVERYONE who supported me emotionally and financially. I definitely hope to return the favour in the future. 😊

If you would like to sponsor me, you can do so here.

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