Mileage - Are you taking the piss? - 0
The morning after the day before. The legs are stiff, the joints are sore, everything aches. You have bits hurting you never knew existed. You feel exhausted, knackered. Your legs stiffer than Hugh Hefner at a Viagra Rally. To put it in a physiological terms. You're fucked.
But you wake with a glow. Laying in bed Adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Memories from the day still fresh. Your eyes still closed, you smile to yourself, thinking about yesterday, You feel the warm glow of peace, satisfaction, almost happiness. All is well with the world.
And then? Well It's time to get up. You try to swing your legs out of bed. They refuse. You try to get out of bed. You can't. Your body has turned into an Ikea wardrobe overnight. It is immovable. Suddenly you are doing your best Stephen Hawkins impression. You are buggered.
After what felt like 3 hours i finally got up. I'm sure it took the medics less time to winch the 50 stone man out of bed. I got there in the end, showing the same grim determination i displayed from mile 20 yesterday. I made the cardinal error of not booking a day off, so i had to prepare for the office. Still at least i would receive plenty of attention and praise whilst it's still in people's minds.
The second problem was putting on trousers. Bending down felt troublesome. It was like the sack race in sports day but without the sack, or race for that matter. In fact what the hell am i talking about. I'm clearly still delirious.
Then it was out the door to work. This is when i encountered the 3rd problem. Stairs. Clearly the devil's creation today. Walking seemed OK but when i reached stairs it was like walking with broken legs. Going up was hard enough but going down nearly impossible. I'm sure my 97 year old Nan was moving better than me today. I cursed the fact that not all public stairwells were equipped with Stanner Stair Lifts. Where's that in the Mayor of London Manifesto?
Then it was time for problem number 4. Reality. I hit Barnes station, bought my ticket, my tea, bought the paper to see the Marathon on the front page and got on the packed train. No-one applauded me. No-one encouraged me. No-one shouted, screamed, high fives or cheered.
In fact nothing but bored commuters packed in together looking decidedly fucked off at the prospect of another week at work. Reality. Fuck. It's over. There were no seats. I should have worn my medal. Didn't anyone realise I'd run the marathon? Bastards!
It made me think, what if every day was like marathon day? Getting on the train, people screaming encouragement to each other, "you can do that spreadsheet Nick", "Good luck with the letterheads", "Keep going to Waterloo mate". It would be ace. Applauding the barista for making the coffee, cheering the driver for driving, geeing others up in the carriage,It would be ace. Just imagine how utterly brilliant it would be. Every day would be like the Truman show.
Then it was into the office to bask in the glory, email as many people as i could. Put on the limp even more to get noticed. 'Have you done the marathon?' Me? feigning humility, Yes. Shamelessly stringing it out. I can't let that adoration go. You don't want reality to come back. I wonder if The Rolling Stones got over a massive performance with a morning of compiling a business card excel spreadsheet?
You obsessively check the marathon website, look at your split times, go over the race where you could have done better, respond to congratulations from yesterday, post your pics on Facebook, basically seek adoration from any place you can get it. Text, Facebook likes, comments, Twitter, work, coffee shop. Basking in the afterglow of the day. It holds all day long.
I am officially a marathon bore. I can't stop telling people of the atmosphere, of the spirit, of the people. It still sends shivers up my spine even today. And then i read the news about Claire Squires, the 30 year old girl from Leicester who collapsed and died on Mile 25. Terrible, terrible news. Awful tragedy. The 10th fatality since the marathon began in 1981.
It is awful. Who knows what happened. She looked a fit, active normal woman. It could easily be any one of us 35,000 who ran it. I saw loads of people collapsing and being tended too on the course, but you think nothing of it, you just keep going, assuming they are OK, or just exhausted.
It does highlight the respect you need to give 26.2 miles. It is a punishing distance and why all experienced runners repeat the mantra to 'run your own race', no matter how many you have done. The crowds are so vast and supportive and intense, you get caught up, lose your pace, try harder, run quicker, for longer, you push yourself beyond what you are used too. That is when you can overdo it and whilst you manage to be OK when you run, it is when you stop, slow down or deviate from your rhythm you can go all wobbly and pass out. It is always a danger for anyone pushing themselves.
I am not saying that is what happened to that poor girl, but there were lots of casualties i passed. God bless her and her poor family. The fundraising on her page jumped to £250,000 for the Samiratans as so many people were touched by her death they felt compelled to show support or an action of love by donating. Her death will not be in vain and help others, but i suppose that is of scant consolation to her family.
In a strange way, that encapsulates the marathon. It is a mass event to help people process grief and love in an action. The action of running it, to raise money, to raise awareness, to help feel like you are doing something. Grief renders us powerless. There is nothing we can do. Organise arrangements etc, but ultimately we are left alone, with our own thoughts and emotions. The marathon is a way for many people to do something positive for the ones they love or loved. That's what makes it the most unique and emotional event in the world. But still a terrible loss.
So, really to bring this blog to a close. What have i learnt from the experience? Well it seems inappropriate with the loss of that poor girl to be nitpicking the race, the day, my training, my journey. I will deal with that throughout the week. I am alive. I enjoyed it. I raised money for Action on Addiction, i saw people i love, i wrote every day, i got under 4 hours, i enjoyed the experience.
Today is not the day to forensically explore my inner journey, to try and perform some amateur psychology to what it all means. There are many areas to work on. Many lessons i learnt and many positives taken from the experience.
The main positive is in keeping up this blog every day since i got back from Dubai on Jan 1st and started writing it. Seems a lifetime ago now. I have kept up the writing and in many cases enjoyed it more than the training. It has been a great experience.
And what now? Stop? Go back to normal? Quit the writing? Well, no not really. I posted on Facebook a few days ago if people thought i should keep it up every day for 2012. Most came back and said yes. They enjoyed it. Entertaining, funny, touching and searingly honest were some of the things coming back at me. 'Write a book' were others.
So i think i will, if it;s all the same to you readers. I will look at setting up another blog on wordpress or my own website that will make it easier to comment if you feel compelled. I will keep a daily blog for 2012. My 40th year to gauge the whole year and journey and process of becoming 'middle aged'.
Maybe, just maybe that will be the biggest gift that comes from this marathon. Let's see.
Thank you for sponsoring me, thank you for reading this, for following my journey, for supporting me. Basically thank you for being you.
I hope you continue reading, don't worry I'll keep it shorter in the future. But 1st. I'm just going to try and get these trousers off. Blimey it's like the old days when taking off strides after 12 pints seemed like the Krypton factor and IQ test rolled into one. I may have to fall back on my old technique. Fall over and sleep on the floor. The good news about being sober and in recovery is that when i wake up tomorrow i am pretty sure they won't be piss stained. Result!
Until tomorrow jogger bloggers. Me love you long time
xx
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