Even getting to the start of the race is an event. Like a hoard of locusts the thousands of runners descend on Blackheath Common, disgorging out from the train station. The organisation is tremendous (although a few hundred additional toilets would be good). The weather was hot and the skies were blue, exactly the sort you don’t want when running a marathon.   My plan was to start slowly, running at a 8 min 15 sec mile pace. The bunching at the start was no where near as bad as I thought and I managed to run at my own pace pretty much after the first mile. Along the whole route there is great support from the crowd. In some places it is almost deafening. One sight I will never forget is turning a corner at 12 miles and seeing Tower Bridge in front. Truly epic and quite emotional.

My family and friends had positioned themselves at the 13 mile mark (22 on the way back). Great to hear the roars of encouragement. I passed the half way mark in one hour and 48 mins, bang on my 8 mins and 15 sec pace and heading (or so I thought for about 3 hours 40 mins). Just after I realized my tummy wasn’t right and I had to make a quick detour to a toilet (to avoid doing a Paula). I always knew that my race would start at 18 miles and sure enough I started to suffer. The pace dropped down to 9 mins per mile then 10 mins per mile. More shouts from my family at friends at 22 miles gave me a boost. However just when I thought I couldn’t go any slower, at 23 miles, my legs started going into cramps and I started doing my best Douglas Badder impersonation trying to keep shuffling along. I them started hearing lots of shouts of ‘come on Gordon !’ from large parts of the crowd. I then spotted Gordon Ramsay, the TV chef running next to me. He was in more trouble than I was. At 24 miles I had to make another toilet stop. The pavements were now littered with horizontal bodies as more runners succumbed to the heat and de-hydration. I tried and tried to raise my shuffle to a jog, but my poor legs had stopped working. I crossed the line in 4 hours and 8 minutes and I’m afraid with no feelings of elation, just disappointment. My spirits were lifted when I met up with my family and friends, especially Louise, who’s charity I had been running for. She is a star.

Monday morning, the day after the marathon, and I can hear the light drizzle on my office window. Perfect weather for marathon running… too ironic for me. My disappointment is starting to lift. I did as well as I could have in the circumstances. I have been on the London Marathon website to look at the results and noticed the ballot for next year. Surely I can do better next time? Train harder, train longer….. dream on.