All the business of war, and indeed all the business of life, is to endeavour to find out what you don't know by what you do; that's what I called 'guess what was at the other side of the hill'.
Duke of Wellington
October 3, 2021 marked the London Marathon 2020 for me, the 10th marathon of my life (8 x 42km races, one 60k ultramarathon, and one Comrades marathon of 89km).
The best thing about running my first marathon, was the huge surprise that I could, in fact, physically run for 26.2 miles. I was truly finding out what was on the other side of the hill.
You might think by the 10th marathon, the novelty would have worn off, but really I felt just as elated to know, that despite injuries, MRIs, and general gimpiness that had kept me from the starting line since 2017, I was not over the hill yet!
I was generally undertrained for the marathon. I had started with early morning runs in 2019, a 15 milers on the Boston course in February 2020, and then when the race was postponed with the rest of the world in May 2020, I churned out many dutiful neighborhood runs on roads which were empty of cars! The race was pushed off further and further, and my running was replaces with a tennis obsession and as much skiing as I could manage!
In April 2021, I bought the running shoes and the shorts I would run in and made some 5 miles jogs in mountain altitude that left my legs sore, and not quite ready to maintain a consistent schedule. I felt pretty confident picking my way along an up and down trail in Liguria in May, but the summer holidays got away from me, and only in the late days of August did I make some jogs around the park and really check in with myself - 26.2 miles? On October 3rd?
Weirdly enough, although my 4 mile runs at an 11 minute pace weren’t so inspiring, I did feel enough of a euphoria, a connection to my former self, that I could actually see running another full marathon in London. I have stocked this blog with little one-liners like “the hardest part is getting to the starting line”, “the hardest part is getting past the whitewater” to the point, I actually believe all that stuff! And I rationalized that, with the coveted entry to the London Marathon secured, over £1,200 raised for Victa UK, entry fees paid, I was too close to the finish line to give up by not starting the race!
So, with the energy that can only be given by God, when you want to get things done, I sorted through all the murky Co-Vid 19 regulations and testing and flights I would need to sort to get to London on October 3 in about 1 hour with a pencil and a sheet of copy paper, and I packed my bags.
I arrived in London on October 1st, to Gatwick Airport, a bit exhausted because I had stayed out before an early-morning flight to watch the new James Bond movie.
I found the energy only God can give when you don’t want to pay £100 for a taxi to the hotel, and bought an Oyster card to my accommodation, just by the Expo. I made my first mission to get my running bib, and felt so removed from the marathon culture - I thought I prepared by wearing a Burberry jacket I thrifted to this occasion - the look of the moment was clearly bright and stretchy with chunky running trainers. So you could tell on the Underground who was also in town for the marathon and strike up nervous conversation. I don’t think people believed me and i hardly believed myself the day before.
I also didn’t think through all my options for the weather, so I ended up going to a charity shop and finding this UBS-SBC banking artifact sweater, which was so bright and lovely, I wore it to the start and couldn’t bear to toss it at any point in the course.
Although finally, making my way to the subway, I felt like I belonged in the city as a runner, starting sticking together with the Gatorade-gulping others and their numbers, I couldn’t hold back tears through the nervous chit chat. I felt alone and not fully confident, I was just going through the motions of a cool habit I set in motion 5 years ago.
The start was grassy, chilly, and took forever. I was grateful for the first inches of pavement, but I forgot how long a marathon was. When the first mile ticks by, you feel happy your legs are fresh and it’s so easy, but also full of trepidation because it’s too early to really know what you’re doing.
I just ran as modestly as I could, another lady even commented on it when she jogged past me. But I’m really not embarrassed to run slowly in the slightest, especially early on, because even if in the past 12 months my training lacked, over years of running marathons starting cautiously has never let me down. I knew my mission was simply to finish, get myself home, and to recover well.
I looked for little boosts around the course, like a trumpet player, a great DJ at mile 5, and kids passing out candy- Jelly Babies! Which I knew from working in Finance for years, and how it sometimes coincided with London, were a UK specialty.
Some people like to stick to the line when running a marathon to avoid running across the course in what can amount to miles of extra effort. I need to sometimes oscillate between sides of the crowds for high fives or confections, just because each little interaction helped me make it to the next mile.
Just before the halfway point, is Tower Bridge, which was the biggest treat on the course. The view was breathtaking, of the London Eye and Thames, and the sky was lovely and clear at this time! I started running faster. Just after the bridge, you can see all the faster runners lapping you on the out and back, so I also started giving the Mile 21 crew high fives across the barrier for fun. My legs felt the absolute best at this point.
Then you start to get more on the outskirts of the city, I took some walking steps in the tunnels where I wasn’t letting down anyone on the sidelines, and I really felt like my running stride was getting so cramped up, I was covering the same ground with some walking steps and stretching out my legs.
At the 20 mile mark, it started pouring rain! And I started thinking about how to channel 2018 Des Linden at the Boston Marathon.
But one nice thing is that even though the absolutely ominous skies and intensity of the rain made it seem like it would last the rest of the race, it cleared up by Mile 21 to sunny, late afternoon skies.
The twists and turns to get to the finish at Buckingham Palace and the big signs with 4 KM LEFT kind of made me think the last leg of the race was shorter than it was. The finish line, lined with British Flags, wasn’t visible until you were right on top of it.
But I made a big effort because the crowd was so encouraging- “It’s a marathon, not a walk-a-thon!” one kind gent with a pint heckled me as a took a walk step - and because I knew, if at least kept running, I could stop at the finish. I know from marathons past you can’t simply just stop walking for the rest of the day.
And I finished, after more than 5 hours!
In lieu of the greatest feeling in the world, where a volunteer places a heavy medal around your neck, the medals were given in the plastic kit bags with your number and any personal items at the end of the race. I still wore mine.
I cried finding a taxi, and missed my flight home that night - too slow.
But I did something that I had set out to do, and it felt good, and it got me to the most important question- what is next?