London Marathon 2021: “Overground, underground, Wombling free.”

The London Marathon: world-renowned, and tends to be the first thing British people think of when you say “marathon” (or even “running” for that matter!) It had been 889 days since the last event, and was the last time I’d raced a marathon. This was my fourth time there, my 14th marathon overall.

Given my lack of training of late – it’s been months since I ran any distance greater than 13.1 miles – I’d set my expectations low, aiming just to get around the course and enjoying the atmosphere. So, how did I fare?

Pre-race

One small change with the organisation was wide-reaching, affecting virtually aspect of the experience from here on out: namely, the lack of a baggage drop. This meant that a pre-supplied kit bag was to be contained with stuff we’d require immediately after the race (clothing, food, sanity), and anything needing to be stored (shoes, chargers, vanity) had to be kept elsewhere or with someone. As I travelled solo this time, most of my belongings were kept at the hotel, using the kit bag just for a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms.

Normally there’s no issue with getting into the expo where I’d collect my bib, but due to everyone needing to drop off a kit bag (even if it wasn’t to hold personal effects, it would still be used for the medal and t-shirt), there was an absolutely massive queue to get in. I kid you not, the way it snaked around the warehouse – seemingly in one long endless loop – reminded me of the Penrose stairs!

After half an hour I finally escaped that queue… only to join another queue for the actual kit-bag drop, and then another to get the bib! Well, all this queuing must demonstrate British life to the international participants…

After a quick mosey around the expo (which didn’t have much to offer, though I spotted a buddy on an advert!), I headed to my nearby hotel via the labyrinthine Tube network. The weather was tempremental, so it was anyone’s guess if the downpour that evening would continue into the day.

A good sleep and cheap porridge later, it was race day!

I was concerned that I’d have to fork out even more just to store my bag during the race, but fortunately the hotel staff were kind enough to keep it in a linen cupboard free of charge.

The rain had fortunately stopped, promising a dry run for the day. I considered if a cap or sunglasses (or both!) would be necessary, but figured that if it did rain, it wouldn’t be heavy enough for the former, and was cloudy enough to avoid the latter. So I headed out in just a vest, shorts and lime-green trainers (if I had a sense of shame, this is where I’d facepalm…)

While the masses headed to the general starting area, I got to break away to what I’d came for; the Championship start zone! A fellow championer saw me break away from the pack, so we chatted about our respective running journeys. Turned out he’d achieved the same time as me, and aimed for a strong performance today. I entered the zone, and the marshalls tried to hinder me… until I revealed the bib showing that I belonged 😁

As I sat shivering waiting for the start which was still 90 minutes away, the announcer proclaimed it was 16 degrees (what, Farenheit?), despite my armhairs raised like a Spider-sense. I’ll warm up once I’m out there, I tried to convince myself. A nice distraction was meeting Adam, a runner I very nearly bumped into about 3 years ago, who gave me a cheer during the previous London Marathon, and achieved an impressive time himself.

Shortly afterwards, I got to chat with Barry and Russ, a couple of buddies from my club. Hearing their plans for the marathon got me kind of tempted to try and push for a decent time… but I thought better of it; it had occured to me it had been a whopping 2½ years since my qualifying race, so I needed to stay firm on having a good time rather than fast time.

And then… gladitorial music played: the elites walked past! As we entered our starting area, the elites were literally 50 metres in front of us!

The race

Go!

With the roar of the crowd, we surged with strength to our 26.2 mile adventure! For once, I intentionally played it foolishly by having a far-faster-than-target start; the excitement of a Championship start was too much to resist!

After the thrill of the first mile, I eased it back to my target pace of 7:15/mile… or at least, I tried to! I’d been warned by Barry about getting swept up in the wave of runners, and it proved true; despite trying to put the brakes on, I couldn’t slow below 7:00/mile.

Better do it at some point, or it’ll be forced on you.

Not being too focused on time however, I got to fully appreciate the spectators, fancy dress runners and sights around me. Well, in theory at least; I was so focused on a runner with “Dr Chris” emblazoned on his back and two runners with “Kinder” and “Smart” on their backs (hmm, I should be trying to run this “kinda smart”), I nearly ran past the Cutty Sark before I noticed it was there!

A giant 19th Century ship in the middle of London, and you didn’t see it?!

Still, at this point I’d ran nearly 9 miles in an hour; a crazy pace for someone who hadn’t trained and was barely a third of a way through the run. I took an energy gel – the first of four for the run – and typically got my hands sticky with my Herculean attempt to rip open the sachet.

Is there a knack to this I’ve forgotten?

Before long, I reached Tower Bridge; a mythical sight that never gets old. Enjoying the view and continued cheers of the crowd, a call broke me out of my mental isolation:

“Shaun! Runner!”

I glanced around, spotting it came from a spectating woman who waved. I waved back, confused as I wasn’t expecting to know anyone out there.

Who the hell is that? I thought, planning to find out later. It turned out to be a colleague who’s also a runner, whom I’d also bumped into at the Tissington Trail half marathon two years ago. She did an great job picking me out of the herd!

Shortly after, I was passed by a runner who again, I hadn’t seen for the longest time – Darryl, a local who I used to see at every other race! He sailed past quite casually, while I continued to resist the urge of trying to match the pace of those around me.

13.1 miles in just over 90 minutes. I can slow to 7:30/mile now and still come out faster than 3hrs 15.

Passing a corner at mile 14, I imagined fellow runner Liz – usually a regular sight there – cheering in the crowd. Still feeling strong, I held off on my second gel until mile 16. Its effect would theoretically hit just before I hit “The Wall,” enabling better management of the final stage.

However, at mile 17 (and after being hit by discarded water bottle!), I could feel the fatigue begin to creep on me and doubt start to set in.

It’s just in your head. That weird pain in your ankle? Imaginary. Tingling on the right side of your body? Err… you’re fine. Probably. Isle of Dogs Community Church? It’s not an actual island? I thought it was off the coast or something? I really need to look at a map of England some time.

As yet another runner passed me (for once, I don’t think I passed anybody), I noticed a BMR logo on the back of his vest.

“You part of Black Men Run?”

“Yeah! I recognise you from the groups!” he responded.

With a fist-bump and very, very brief chat, I let him speed off. I’ve been in such groups for ages, but this was my first time meeting one of the members in person.

The elation gave a boost for a while, only for The Wall to hit me with full force at mile 20.

Doesn’t matter if you slow to 8:00/mile. Do. Not. Stop.

I faced memories of 2018’s infamous marathon, with heat so brutal I’d had to walk at this point.

Keep going. One foot in front of the other.

I called upon mantras that I hadn’t used in years.

Swing like Spider-Man.

Wasn’t working.

Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain! I repeated in my head. Minor success. Come on, where’s your willpower?

Time for a new mantra.

In brightest day, I whispered, In darkest night; no evil will escape my sight. Let those who worship evil’s might, beware my power: Green Lantern’s Light!

I repeated it over and over. My speed hadn’t picked up, but I continued to move, at least. That was all I needed.

Running a marathon isn’t about the time, it’s about the distance. An epiphany, or just trying to make myself feel better? Maybe both.

Make it to mile 22.

Made it mile 21. Took an energy gel, washed my hands (either I’m clumsy or they’ve started making gel sachets out of Vibranium), and focused on the next mile.

Achieved. Now to mile 23. Or more specifically, to 23.1. Or more clearly, 5km left. You know what it means…

Get to it, then it’s just one parkrun left. Which would be easier had I actually run one recently…

Ignoring my pace entirely, I kept my focus on the cheering spectators which – apart from in the tunnels – were endless. Around every corner, another face. Another group of people who my pride wouldn’t allow me to stop in front of.

3 hours done. A mile and a half left. Any other time, I’d speed through that without a second thought, even if wearing boots. Now, it was taking everything I had.

“Only ten minutes left,” a runner commented.

Put that way, it sounds achievable. You can do it.

Heading towards the final straight, yet another person called out from the crowd: Marvin-Dean, a local runner who’d recommended the Paris marathon to me. For someone not expecting to see anybody, I certainly met my fair share of people! (also around here, Barry’s wife called out to me but I didn’t notice. Glad she wasn’t there specifically for me; imagine travelling all that way and waiting all that time to cheer someone, only to be ignored…)

The time grew close to 3hrs 15, and I was still half a mile away. I repeated my mantra. I dug deep. But I had nothing extra to give. I switched my watch to time elapsed. Calculating what was required, I figured I couldn’t afford to slow down any further.

The finish line.

This is where my kick would normally come into play… nothing. Just one foot in front of the other. It would have to do.

With the energy of a lethargic sloth, I made it across the line. Time: 3:14:26.

Post-race

Immediately after the line, I was treated to being right next to GB athlete Charlotte Purdue giving an interview! I was tempted to say “hi”afterwards, but given that every part of myself was aching and I had hours of travelling to get on with, thought it best to just leave her be. Nevertheless, I soon had the next best thing; my clubmate Barry giving a cheery wave! He’d achieved an amazing 2:37, and certainly didn’t look worse for wear.

Collecting my kit bag (yeah, still needed to be done despite the lack of baggage drop. I still don’t get the logic of it; 40,000 sweaty people were just gathered together, so health concern can’t be an issue), I found the finisher’s t-shirt (which despite being bright orange, looks pretty good), Lucozade, water, no food snack 🙁 and two medals.

Yeah, two medals! One being the standard issued to the masses (thankfully a different shape and design than the previous three) and one for the Championship and World Good For Age runners. Not one to draw attention to myself, I kept the latter in my bag… nah! I proudly hung it around my neck, despite the clanging of the medals!

I also ran into other club members, learning that Barry’s son completed it in 3 hrs 18 despite it being his first-ever marathon!

Oh, and then one more random meeting: a runner I’d met at Draycote Water – a 20-mile race around a reservoir a few years back – recognised me, allowing for a brief chat.

As I headed across the city back to the hotel to collect my bag, to then head to the train station, I was surprised by the sheer niceness of strangers to me giving congratulations and short conversations (at least, until I was indiscreetly followed by a shopkeeper when buying a sandwich). For a city I generally think of as rude, this was a refreshing change of pace, especially given the worldwide turmoil of the last couple of years.

Overall, I achieved what I set out to do; have an enjoyable time and achieve a 3hr 15 time. And although the over-zealousness of the lack of baggage drop leaves much to be desired, London Marathon remains an event to be experienced by all.