Firstly – an apology for how long it has taken to write this post. With a crazy few weeks it has been hard for Gillian to sit down and write, and harder still for Hazel to get to a computer past her now very active toddler to upload her race report. This is Gillian’s last big post, so brace yourself: here it comes.
Gillian
Our final 3 and 4 mile runs went without a hitch although I was tentative about placing each trainer down in case I tripped at this late stage. The carb-loading for the final week was ably assisted by my nineteen month old grandson who really enjoyed being let loose with the hand mixer making our chocolate brownie race fuel.
On Wednesday the running husband took a day off work to drive us to the Expo to pick up our race numbers so that we wouldn’t wear ourselves out on public transport. I as completely overwhelmed by the scale of the event. As we walked excitedly along the concourse to the entrance for what seemed like a couple of miles the BBC marathon coverage theme music blasted out. That was it. I was gone – tears rolling down my face. All those years of listening to the BBC coverage every year and here I was. Hazel grabbed my arm and ushered me forwards to the appropriate booth to collect my number and plastic rucksack. My legs turned to jelly as I was asked for ID and if this was my first marathon. For once in my life I literally couldn’t speak. All I kept thinking was that I hoped I could hold it better than this on marathon day Everywhere I looked was the race sponsor’s logo and a sea of RED. I have never seen so many metres of wall to wall red carpet. I had a great time and it was a really useful well organised event. We gained some valuable pre-marathon advice.
On Thursday my husband dashed to Heathrow to collect my son (Hazel’s brother) who had travelled all the way from Australia to see his mum run the London Marathon (no pressure then!). More tears, and lots of hugs. By the time we had caught up and it was time for bed my mind was working overtime. Strict instructions from Hazel’s running husband said that I should be getting extra sleep but I laid there wide awake for quite a few hours.
By Friday my daughter Hannah, her husband and my new twelve-week-old grandson arrived to complete the family support crew. It was lovely. Carb-loading followed (celebratory marathon cake) but an alcohol free evening for the competitors. Everyone kept talking about my need for rest, so after a large family reunion meal I went to bed a little earlier. Once again sleep eluded me and I started to go over stupid scenarios in my head. What if I got separated from Hazel during the race? Had our year of training been enough? What if I hit the wall and couldn’t finish? I suddenly became aware of my new grandson crying so I jumped out of bed and kept Hannah company while she did the 2.30 am feed. Plenty of rest? What was I thinking? I went back to bed for what felt like three minutes and the alarm went off. It was Saturday morning and time for our last run.
I couldn’t believe this moment had finally arrived. Hazel and I had been building up for months for this run. Adam borrowed running gear from Hazel’s running husband and off we went. Hazel, the running husband and Adam all ran along the Thames path to Eton supporting me and chatting. More tears from me. It was a very special run for me, even though it was only 3 miles, and a perfect end to my training.
I packed my bag for the big event, pinning on my number and getting my clothes ready in the afternoon. We all tucked into our last supper of salmon and pasta after the babies went to bed. The rest of the support crew packed their bags. Adam said he would be at mile 19 with a mug of tea. The running husband packed a huge rucksack with all sorts of emergency food, plasters, clothes and footwear. (A couple of weeks earlier Adam and the running husband had had a strategy meeting on skype planning where they would go on the route and what they would need to carry. It took a good few hours.)
The pair of them were amazing and thanks to their attention to detail, the day went like clockwork. Paula Radcliffe would have been envious of our support team. Talking of Paula Radcliffe the running husband pointed out that he had read somewhere that she drinks a half of Guiness the night before a big race. Thanks to this suggestion I slept like a baby for five hours and woke up on marathon morning quite relaxed. I managed to eat a large bowl of porridge, but little else. This was it. Marathon day. Our support crew drove into London dropping off my grandson with Hazel’s in-laws in Ealing, before hot-footing it on the underground to the 8 mile mark. Hazel and I travelled by train from Windsor (suddenly aware that all the other occupants of the carriage were carrying the same plastic marathon rucksacks). We tried to relax and Hazel encouraged me to eat more food as we sat quietly listening to the other runners recount their marathon experiences. I don’t use a mobile phone very often, but it was lovely to receive so many messages from well-wishers on the train on the way in. Particular thanks go to Diane, my oldest friend, who said that her sister Denise would be on Embankment to cheer us on. It was lovely to think that I might be seen by someone I knew so close to the finish.
What greeted us when we changed trains at Waterloo was unbelievable. So many people – all runners – trying to squash onto one train. Hazel managed to manoeuvre us on to the train with a ten foot tiger and a man wearing a toilet. My head was jammed firmly under a man’s armpit and my whole body was squashed against everyone else’s. When one person took a breath, we all did. Rush hour on the underground had nothing on this. When we got to our station, the doors opened and we all spewed out. Marathon volunteers ushered us in the right direction and we all walked steadily to our starting pen. It was further than I thought it would be but it felt good to stretch my legs after the train journey.
Inside the start zone, we joined the queue for the toilets before dropping off our bags on the lorries. In the end we had less time that we thought and a second trip to the loos was abandoned. Everyone had said not to go to the pens too soon, but we only just made it to hear the start announced. We were suddenly there in our pen at the start of the 2016 London Marathon. I had made it. I looked at Hazel and blurted out how proud I was of her getting me here. My life’s ambition to be at the start of the London Marathon was finally reached at 60 years old. Whatever happened now, even if I didn’t finish I was the happiest person in the world. I have never seen so many runners. It was a spectacular sight. In front, at the side and behind us, runners everywhere. I think we were near the back of the back pen. It took us over 30 minutes to cross the start line, shuffling along, unable to run, weaving through the wall of competitors one by one.
It was a good job our tether was a pair of tights with some good stretch in it. Hazel would find a space to overtake a runner and then the runners around would close the gap and I would have to be almost dragged through a gap or pulled from side to side. All the advice we received about not blowing up by running off too fast seemed ridiculous as we still shuffled along unable to run properly until about six miles in. At the end of the eight mile mark I still felt we were struggling to run at our normal training pace. It was making my knees ache. The noise from the spectators was amazing though, and it was a real boost when anyone called my name. Suddenly in all the thousands of spectators I spotted my husband wearing his favourite flat cap and an anxious smile. He jumped in the air and ran off to let the running husband and Adam know where we were, so we managed to wave hello to all three of them. Before the race I said that I wouldn’t let it affect me if I didn’t see them, but it was a huge confidence boost to see them all.
It was very emotional reaching the Cutty Sark and by the time I ran across London Bridge with thousands of heads bobbing up and down in front of me it took all my strength not to cry. The cheering crowds were deafening.
By the time we reached half way I think we both realised it was pointless trying to go any faster. We physically could have, but the wall of runners was just too dense to weave through. We were both comfortable, with no niggling pains, so we settled into enjoying the second half of the race. It was humbling to see so many t-shirts with charitable causes and thousands of photos of loved ones.
I can’t believe that at mile 19 Hazel managed to spot the running husband gesticulating, and Adam and Terry standing to one side in a bus lane with a huge mug of tea. All those blogs about needing a cup of tea after four hours and there they were, true to their word. This was the only time during the whole race that we stopped, and it was so that I could slurp tea. We managed to spot Adam again at the 22 mile mark and by this point, I knew the race was ours. Hazel’s insistence on fuel top-ups meant that I had bags of energy. Nothing was going to stop me now. We even managed to let go of the tether briefly to give Hazel’s shoulder a rest. Along the embankment I didn’t get to see my friend’s sister Denise, but I am sure I heard her call my name after we passed her. Thank you so much for being there, and sticking around for possibly four and half hours!
Running towards and along the mall was a bit of a blur but we managed to keep a good pace going right to the finish line. It was such a thrill. Our medals were plopped around our necks, and we had coloured foil wrapped round us, just like on television! We did it.
I ran the London Marathon. In four hours and fourty-six minutes. My husband and son greeted us with a volunteer from Guide Dogs and Hazel’s running husband (who had sprinted the last three miles of the course to try to see us finish) gave us a huge smile and hug when we met up at the Guide Dogs reception in Carlton Gardens. The reception was lovely, it was great to see the other runners for Guide Dogs and it was especially wonderful to meet some of the Guide Dogs volunteers who brought their Guide Dogs all the way across London on the busiest day of the year to see us.
I have had some wonderful experiences in my life but running my first London Marathon tops them all.
Some thank yous:
My marathon journey started a year ago when my daughter Hazel said ‘Go on, you can do it. Enter the race’. Well I certainly couldn’t have done it without you Hazel. For your endless determination and patience all year and planning such fun training routes, for struggling along in all weathers through the winter months, pushing Arthur in the buggy with one hand and pulling me on the tether with the other hand. For cheerily going on long runs even when you looked exhausted after charging round with an action packed toddler all day. And on race day itself how you managed to guide me through those thousands of runners, having to create enough space for both of us for twenty six miles, I just don’t know how you did it. You have been an amazing guide. I am in awe of you and immensely proud, thank you hazel from the bottom of my heart, you made my dream come true.
And so to ‘the running husband’ my son-in-law Alex. For planning our training, keeping me on track, cajoling me into exercises and the use of the dreaded foam roller. For knowing exactly when to throw a bag of frozen peas at me for my knees. For always being there with tea and food at the end of a run. And for your endless patience listening to me rant during the winter months, giving endless physio advice and training tips. And most importantly, for giving up all your own running for six months to devote your time to supporting us. No-one could wish for a better son-in-law.
Special thanks to Hannah for travelling all the way from Yorkshire to Windsor with a new baby to stay at mission control while we left her to go into London on race day. Being able to follow the race on her phone and let the men know where we were every 5k meant they could race along the course and see us. Your info centre was invaluable. And for organising our welcome home meal afterwards – what can I say. you’re a star.
Special thanks to my long suffering husband who hasn’t seen me for most of a year while I’ve been out training, exercising, and avoiding housework to preserve my back. Thank you for charging across London all day chasing Adam and Alex, running so hard you lost two toe nails. I am eternally grateful for your support in my crazy adventures.
And last but certainly not least, a massive thank you to my son Adam. For secretly training on your bike for hours in Australia just in case you were needed to step in as a guide substitute on race day. For being prepared to travel all the way from Australia to watch your mum run the marathon, and for running all the way across London just to ensure I got a cup of tea. When you had travelled all the way from Australia how could I not finish the race?You were my secret weapon. You made my marathon a perfect day.
Thank you to all our friends and family who have supported us and given so generously to Guide Dogs. Collectively you have helped us raise over £2000 for Guide Dogs, which will make a huge difference to even more people’s lives.
When we started writing our blog – the blind leading the blind – over a year ago, I couldn’t imagine getting to this point, but as I end my marathon journey, I have memories to treasure forever. It has been truly amazing.
Gill and Hazel Run 