In the 2 weeks preceding the race, my plan had gone from walking 13.1 miles of the course, to walking 10 miles of the course, to walking 10k of the course (reaching Cutty Sark), to walking 1 mile of the course, to maybe walking 3 miles, as long as that meant finishing before the sweep team reached me. The sweep team go at 7hr finish pace (16 mins per mile) so if I could march along at a brisk enough pace, I'd be fine.... IF my knee would let me. I hadn't tested it at a brisk walk, my "good" training walks had been around 18 minute miles, but the distance had been further, and I suffered badly from those walks, so I'd stopped a few weeks back.
On the morning, I dressed in a long sleeve top, because there was a chill in the air and as I planned to walk I wouldn't be as warm as I get when running. Pinned my race number on, and me and my sister headed to the trains. At the right station for the blue start, I got off, and she stayed on another stop, so she could watch the elite ladies pass (they started earlier) a little further up the course.
Walking up towards the start area, I was casting an eye around for anyone I knew - before suddenly realising I'd been literally feet behind Neal the whole way up the street, haha. (Jeez, Neal, update your blog!) Anyway, I made myself known and he introduced me to his nervous clubmate, who was going to be in the same start area as me, so when Neal went off to find the GFA start, we walked up to the blue start together. It was a relief to have someone to chat to, and we wished each other the best and went our separate ways when we headed into the start pens about 10-ish mins before the start. I know she was super-nervous, sidetracked with her race nerves, because even though I'd explained my specific situation and race plan a couple of times in the half hour we'd been together, she wished me well with "have a good run, see you at the finish!!" - HAHAHAHA.
In the start pen, I focussed on trying to get as far up as I could, to give me a little more of a head start on the sweep team. I knew I would need to stay to the side, to keep out of the way of everyone trying to run, so I just worked on positioning myself and waiting for the start. It came remarkably soon - the first wave set off at 10am, and even though I was close to the middle of the 9th (last) start pen, I reached the start line at 10:14am - quicker than I'd thought. The problem was, of course, that everyone around me was breaking into a run, and I suddenly realised I couldn't WALK across the start line of a 26.2 mile race. A dozen or so metres out, I nervously and carefully tried to run a couple of steps. My knee jolted, and it felt a bit weird, so I walked again, then the very second my foot hit the start mat, I jogged 10 paces, just so I could say I'd RAN in the London Marathon (don't tell my physio). My knee felt weird, but I wasn't risking anything today, so I started walking, and stayed to the side to make sure I wasn't blocking anyone.
Problem with that, it turned out, is that staying at the side means the screaming, cheering crowds of incredible people are all RIGHT. THERE. Right there, in your face, encouraging you on. And I'm walking. A few meters into a marathon, and crowds and crowds of people are cheering at me, and I'm walking. I welled up, and felt immense relief at my decision that morning to leave the vest with my name printed on back at the hotel. I hadn't counted on the crowd support being as insane and relentless as it was... It was overwhelming. There's no way I would have lasted, had people been shouting my name.
So, anyway, I realised quickly I need to get my head out my arse. It didn't matter if any of these strangers were noticing me walking. It didn't matter than I wished above all things that I could be running. What mattered is that I had crossed the start line of the London freakin' Marathon. Only 40,000 people a year get to do that. I glanced at my Garmin, and I was walking faster than 15 minute mile pace. Bring it on.
I saw my sister at the 1 mile mark, and told her without hesitation I was going to keep going to the 5k timing mat. In the second mile, the housing estate we went though had speed bumps in the road, so they'd positioned marshalls at each one, to scream "HUMP!" over and over. At one point I'd laughed and said "I think they're competing with each other!" to the women nearby, only for one of them to look up and shout "Sarah!?? Oh my god! Sarah!" - lol! It was Marina, a previous FB friend from California, and to bump into someone I knew during the race was a total surprise, let alone someone from the States!! She was suffering from ankle issues, and was run-walking her marathon, so we chatted briefly, then she headed off on her next running bit.
Hilariously, my sister suddenly came scuttling and puffing along the path (she was carrying her overnight bag and handbag and wearing a couple of layers in case of rain, lol) to say she wanted to get to the 2 mile marker before me, so she could take a photo. She ran off, and I caught up with her at the 2 mile balloons (picture), and we basically walked together for the 3rd mile, since I was all the way on the side of the course, and she was on the path. By 3 miles, the crowd of runners was long gone, and I was in a much more dispersed group of run-walkers. There were still people behind me, but I knew this pace was taking a toll on my knee, and I also knew I wanted to end my race with a smile, so as I passed under the 3 mile marker, I grinned and marched positively forward to the 5km timing mats. Once I walked over them (47:43 - turns out my panic at not managing 16 minute mile pace was unfounded, this is actually equivalent to 15:25/m!), I stepped across to the St John's Ambulance crew and said that I was dropping out.
Anyway, this is already waaaaay too long a blog post for what boils down to a 5km walk...! I'm proud of myself for starting, and for not staying home sulking. And I'm proud of myself for not pushing too hard in the excitement of the event, risking my rehab and recovery from the injuries that continue to get me down. On the day itself, I loved it - it was harder that evening and the next day, seeing people on social media displaying their medals, or people in London streets wearing their finisher tshirts, but I can't drown myself in the "what could have beens", when I have to focus on my injury recovery and work towards the "what will be"s instead. The London Marathon is a special event, one that's very difficult to get into when you're not super-fast, and if I never get a chance to be part of it again, then so be it. But who knows what the future holds.....?
In the start pen, I focussed on trying to get as far up as I could, to give me a little more of a head start on the sweep team. I knew I would need to stay to the side, to keep out of the way of everyone trying to run, so I just worked on positioning myself and waiting for the start. It came remarkably soon - the first wave set off at 10am, and even though I was close to the middle of the 9th (last) start pen, I reached the start line at 10:14am - quicker than I'd thought. The problem was, of course, that everyone around me was breaking into a run, and I suddenly realised I couldn't WALK across the start line of a 26.2 mile race. A dozen or so metres out, I nervously and carefully tried to run a couple of steps. My knee jolted, and it felt a bit weird, so I walked again, then the very second my foot hit the start mat, I jogged 10 paces, just so I could say I'd RAN in the London Marathon (don't tell my physio). My knee felt weird, but I wasn't risking anything today, so I started walking, and stayed to the side to make sure I wasn't blocking anyone.
Problem with that, it turned out, is that staying at the side means the screaming, cheering crowds of incredible people are all RIGHT. THERE. Right there, in your face, encouraging you on. And I'm walking. A few meters into a marathon, and crowds and crowds of people are cheering at me, and I'm walking. I welled up, and felt immense relief at my decision that morning to leave the vest with my name printed on back at the hotel. I hadn't counted on the crowd support being as insane and relentless as it was... It was overwhelming. There's no way I would have lasted, had people been shouting my name.
So, anyway, I realised quickly I need to get my head out my arse. It didn't matter if any of these strangers were noticing me walking. It didn't matter than I wished above all things that I could be running. What mattered is that I had crossed the start line of the London freakin' Marathon. Only 40,000 people a year get to do that. I glanced at my Garmin, and I was walking faster than 15 minute mile pace. Bring it on.
Mile one was me feeling out how my knee was coping with my brisk pace and making sure my stride length was short. The faster I walk, the more I over-stride, and that could result in my knee locking, or my calves tightening, and so on - needed to make sure I stayed focussed on walking fast but with good form. I pulled my shoulders back, hips forward, and counted quietly to myself to push on. I high-fived a couple of kids in the crowd, and rolled my sleeves up as the sun came out and the exertion turned my cheeks pink (and the rest of the rest, as the photo shows, lol).
Hilariously, my sister suddenly came scuttling and puffing along the path (she was carrying her overnight bag and handbag and wearing a couple of layers in case of rain, lol) to say she wanted to get to the 2 mile marker before me, so she could take a photo. She ran off, and I caught up with her at the 2 mile balloons (picture), and we basically walked together for the 3rd mile, since I was all the way on the side of the course, and she was on the path. By 3 miles, the crowd of runners was long gone, and I was in a much more dispersed group of run-walkers. There were still people behind me, but I knew this pace was taking a toll on my knee, and I also knew I wanted to end my race with a smile, so as I passed under the 3 mile marker, I grinned and marched positively forward to the 5km timing mats. Once I walked over them (47:43 - turns out my panic at not managing 16 minute mile pace was unfounded, this is actually equivalent to 15:25/m!), I stepped across to the St John's Ambulance crew and said that I was dropping out.Anyway, this is already waaaaay too long a blog post for what boils down to a 5km walk...! I'm proud of myself for starting, and for not staying home sulking. And I'm proud of myself for not pushing too hard in the excitement of the event, risking my rehab and recovery from the injuries that continue to get me down. On the day itself, I loved it - it was harder that evening and the next day, seeing people on social media displaying their medals, or people in London streets wearing their finisher tshirts, but I can't drown myself in the "what could have beens", when I have to focus on my injury recovery and work towards the "what will be"s instead. The London Marathon is a special event, one that's very difficult to get into when you're not super-fast, and if I never get a chance to be part of it again, then so be it. But who knows what the future holds.....?
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