I Dreamed A Dream

It is difficult to truly convey the experience of running the London Marathon as someone for whom this is, in common parlance, A Very Big Deal.

The morning dawned warm, bright and clear, in pure defiance of all weather forcasts which had gloomily predicted downpours. There was, in storybook fashion, not a cloud in the sky.

At breakfast in the hotel, there was an almost palpable air of excitement. People padded around at the buffet in running tops and tracksuit bottoms. Nervous grins were exchanged over the coffee pots and porridge tureen.

Staying where we were, on the very edge of Blackheath, was absolutely perfect. Having had breakfast, made sure we had everything, and left the hotel, all we had to do was take a leisurely stroll across the park and we were at the Red Start. There was a definite party atmosphere as you stood by the entrances and were passed by a pair of apples and someone carrying a pink cow/pig windsock. It was at this point that I had to leave my two supporters - my dear and longsuffering No. 1 Supporter, Mr Gill, and the Mad Arty one. I put my rucksack inside the official baggage bag and trudged down the cordons to the Red Start area, found a nice tree and settled myself under it for a bit, perusing the London Marathon mag's course article for last minute hints and tips.

Then, at about ten past nine, it was last call for the baggage truck. By this point in time it was patantly obvious I would not be needing my wind/rainproof lightweight running jacket, so, having put on my fuel belt and Garmin, I packed everything else into the bag and handed it in. The next time I would see that would be 26.2 miles away.

One final loo trip (and my goodness did they honk by this point in time) and we were asked to get into our pens. I found pen 8 and shuffled inside. Like some kind of oracle, my friend's advice kept echoing in my ears. "Stay off your feet, you are going to be on them for long enough!". So I found a nice patch of concrete and sat on my bum for the next fifteen minutes.

The start at FLM is a slightly odd experience, in that they let you go a pen at a time, walking you up to the park gates before you can start jogging. I never actually heard the gun go off, I was too far back and there was far too much noise. Over the next fifteen minutes, we walked forwards, then stopped, several times before we really started moving and passed through the park gates. But that wasn't the start - this was about another twenty yards down the road. By this point, the SIS PSP22 energy drink that I had been slowly sipping prior to the start was hitting my bladder. So, when I spied that some bright spark had moved a barrier to create a path to a bank of portaloos, and runners were hopping off the course to use them, I followed suit. Well, what's the point of going after you've crossed the line and your time is already ticking? Better to go before your chip activates on the start line, then your loo stop doesn't count!

So, pit stop done, it was just after 10:00am when I crossed the start line. I don't think I stopped smiling for the first three miles. There were so many people along the route cheering, clapping singing and people playing instruments, it was impossible not to smile. I high-fived the kids, jogged alongside a camel for a bit, and felt very, very comfortable at about 10:15/mile pace. I actually felt uncomfortable trying to run any slower. My breathing was good, the sun was shining, and it was the start of an amazing day.

My about mile 6 it was very clear that it was getting far too hot. At about mile 7, someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Are you Basil Brush from Runners' World?" Someone had recognised me from the description I had put up on my vest. I asked her if it was her first marathon. "Oh no," she panted back. "You'd think I'd be old enough to know better by now, though, wouldn't you?". She then encouraged me to push on, as she wanted to go a bit slower.

Down by the Cutty Sark I passed a tree. No, really, a tree - a St John Ambulance tree, being interviewed by the BBC, a moment which was caught for the world to see on the BBC highlights programme. Shortly after that, we passed a brass band playing "Eye of the Tiger" in typical brass-band style, which made me chuckle. Then, at about mile 12, I was running close to the side of the road, when someone read my name off my vest. "Come on, Dr Cath!" they yelled, as I passed them. Just as they shouted that, a face jerked up from the side of the road next to me. "CATHYYY!!!" It was one of our KA forumites, on duty with the St John Ambulance, sat at the side of the road. That gave me a real lift to get through the next few miles - it was getting lonely and hot and difficult, and seeing a familiar face really helped.

I'd had a text (no, really) near the start of the race from Mr Steve. "There are NO AUK banners at Mile 15. We'll keep an eye out for you". So I managed to take a picture of the gantry at mile 14 to text to him, so they would be aware I was nearly there. I wasn't sure how well the timing-mat text message service would be working, and I was right to be sceptical - it was taking around 40 minutes for the messages to arrive.

I got a little confused then, when jogging in a tunnel at the 15-mile point, to find the mile gantry in the tunnel. I had been under the impression that the City Pride pub, where the AUK supporter point was, was pretty much exactly at mile 15. Oh no, I've missed them, I thought. That was a pretty gutting moment. But then, about 100 yards out of the tunnel, I saw my Dad - in bright, snot green Asthma UK t-shirt, standing atop some sort of bollard and waving desperately with both arms. And how lovely was it to see, at the side of the road - Steve, Mum, and Nutter No 1, my great pal Sarah, another mad brittle asthmatic who refuses to let her condition hold her back.

Those hugs felt so good. I had already taken the executive decision to abandon any kind of time target - it was just too hot to push hard. So I revelled in the moment, took off my pace bands, had a drink, a gel, restocked on some gels (Steve gave me three, although I had only planned to have one off him - it was a good job, as we will see later). "We'll see you at mile 18," and off I went again.

By now every mile was getting more tough. I wasn't feeling dehydrated - long training runs had taught me well about how my body coped with heat and how much fluid I needed - but the roadside sprinkler showers were very, very welcome. Poor Mellie the Elephant got a bit wet though. However, she dried out very quickly! My next goal - Mile 17, Mudshute, the Runners' World supporter point where I would be met by the group 3 supporters, "Nam" and "Bear".

I had just spied the blue and yellow banners when I came within earshot of a childrens' choir who were on the left hand side of the road. They were singing - beautifully - "Something Inside So Strong." This was the point where I came closest to losing it completely in the marathon. That song summed up everything - why I was there, what I was doing, why I was doing it, and how hard I had worked and - at times - struggled; not just with running with asthma, but also those bad dark days in the early stages of my career where medicine was hell and my skin an eruptive, erythrodermic mess of eczema and icthyosis. I stumbled up the road and espied Nam - and had the biggest, most lovely hug from someone I've never met!

Unfortunately something had gone awry with the transport of stuff from the Expo and my gels hadn't made it. Thankfully Bear magicked up a spare SIS gel - in my exercise-ridden confusion I don't think I really thanked him enough. So, Bear, thank you very very much!! This just made up my exact quota to get me through to the end of the race. I grabbed some water and was just having a natter generally when Nam remarked "Oh, look, there goes Jordon, bobbing past".

"What? I'm not having that!!" I said, craning my neck around to see the media circus passing by.

"Go on then, get after her!!" yelled Nam - and off I went! Happily I quickly overtook her and left her far behind (no, really, that's not me just spouting bravado!).

Next stop - Mile 18. My goodness me, a bus-stop full of Asthma UK lime green, there was no way I could miss them!! And a huge pink banner - "Dr Cath's Nutters" proudly flew over their heads. It was so lovely to see everyone there - so lovely that so many came into London, struggled on the tube, made the journey, all just to see mad little me running around the city. It was lovely to meet IRL Vicky and Clare, whom I have "spoken to" on the AUK message boards, but never met, and also to see Webeditor Luke doing his bit for AUK.

And then it was onwards again. From mile 20 it started to get really hard. I had a few short walks as I had started to suffer with some lateral/anterior knee pain that I'd not ever had on a long run before. I assumed it simply to be the effects of doing a run longer than I had ever done before. I was also just getting tired, and I was rather hot. At mile 21 the London Fire Brigade had a roadside support area next to one of their stations, and one of the firemen had a hose out (no, really, don't be so filthy) and was spraying water at the runners. It was extremely cold, but very welcome!

The support had gone a bit thin around Canary Wharf, but around mile 22 onwards it really picked up and the streets towards the finish were just completely rammed with people. So many people shouting me on, calling my name out, encouraging me, handing out Jelly Babies, water, anything just to keep the runners going.

And then, finally, I was on the Mall. Rounding that corner and seeing that finish line was amazing. And crossing it - nearly lost it again, but was probably too tired at this point to have a full emotional response. I raised my arms like I'd won some huge prize, trundled across the line and tried to smile for the photo. Then a monotonous procession through the secure area. Chip removal. Medal. Finisher's photo. Goody bag. Baggage reclaim. Somone else taking photos as you headed up the end of the secure area. Then fighting my way through huge crowds on Horseguards to the meet and greet, letter "F". Steve wasn't there - they had all been held up on the tube, but he arrived very soon after I did. Another lovely, lovely hug. Then wandering over to the Director's institute and meeting Neil Churchill, Chief Exec of AUK. "Oh," he said, when I gave my name, "Someone's just been asking about you - they're through there", and directed us through to the lounge, where the full Dr Cath's Nutters squad were resplendent in their lime green glory. Very shortly after, we were joined by a few other good friends who had made their way across London.

I had a leg massage courtesy of AUK (where I met fellow doc and RW forumite Barking), drank my protein recovery drink, took on a little more fluid (but didn't need much, happily I had judged my hydration exactly right) and chatted with my friends and family. We eventually departed around 6pm, with Sarah-Nutter, Kate and Mat, heading back to Blackheath. I partook of a refreshing shower (I think I was a little fragrant by this point) and then we strolled down the road to a lovely little Italian.

I didn't have pasta, surprisingly.

It was a lovely ending to a lovely night, although by this point my knees were bloomin' stiff. Eventually we went back to the hotel around 9:30, and by 10pm I could no longer keep my eyes open, and drifted into the traditional deep and dreamless sleep.