When I woke up on the morning of London Landmarks Half Marathon, I was pumped, I was fired up, I was ready to go. Oh, and my hair was green.
I'd spent that week trying to bleach my hair into submission (a white-ish blonde colour) to make sure the green went over it properly, and then put the green on the day before. Unfortunately it came out a bit more like turquoise, but it was close enough. I had Macmillan sweatbands on my wrist, green socks, green hair, green shirt and a green water bag, too. I looked more like a walking highlighter than at any other time in my life. I was in the last wave, but I wanted to be there early and it was a good job, because the queue for the loos and for the bag drop was pretty long. Plus, getting there early meant I could actually do one of the Equinox warm up sessions that they ran for the earlier waves (but not for the snails...)
This was my first race, and I was so excited. My knee felt good - so good that I forgot to pick up painkillers - I felt good, the weather was good. Seriously - everything was GOOD. We were setting off from Fleet Street, right near where the original bowler hat was made, so we were walked forward by stewards in bowler hats, and then when the klaxon sounded and we were released onto the course, they took them off and waved us off with them. I don't know if it was choreographed or not, but it was beautiful. Finding out that across the 2 editions of LLHM over £10million had been raised for 180 charity partners had me on the edge of tears; that was very nearly it. If I were to list all of the times I nearly cried during the whole of it, writing this would take the whole of the bank holiday weekend.
Past all of the above, I don't remember a great deal about the first couple of miles. I remember smiling, being happy about being there, the feeling of setting off with another group of runners - that was pretty spectacular. I remember snippets of landmarks, like the hotel where I went to my first summer ball with university, the samba band that I was surprised no one was offended by (all Irish pale but wearing "traditional" dress - I mean, honestly...), that first bit out on Embankment... Oh, and the giant Bagpuss. That was pretty awesome. A lot of it has slipped though; most of what I remember was being in pain, the ending (because I knew the pain was approaching the end), the magnificent lady who gave me painkillers and Alex, who is just a bit of a legend in her own right. Oh, and the Tower of London looking beautiful, plus the pub The Hung, Drawn and Quartered.
It's a bit of a strange one as to why I remember the Macmillan cheer station. The first cheer stations were really early on in the race, and I was looking out for the characteristic green that I soon learnt is almost the exact same green as NSPCC and another charity, I believe, and I got to just past mile 6 - in agony, and I couldn't help feeling like Macmillan had forgotten to turn up. It felt very much like they had sacked it off and decided to stay in bed. Half way around and they were still nowhere to be seen. It was only when we were either just approaching mile 9 or just after mile 9 that suddenly they came into view and that was another point where I was on the brink of flooding London with my tears. I did actually ask them "Where the hell have you been?" and one of the volunteers said back (in a friendly way) "We've been here the whole time!" and I did actually say, trying to make it sound like a bit of a joke, "But we needed you a few miles back that way!" There were a few of Team Macmillan providing the party at the back for that race, but there were points before I saw them that I was genuinely on the edge of quitting, because why had I turned up if they hadn't been able to be bothered?
Saying that, I love Macmillan. Really, I do. Working with them as a Cancer in the Workplace trainer is wonderful. Fundraising for them is a breeze, because cancer affects so many people (not a good thing) but the work that they do is so amazing and has such an impact (which is the good thing). They offer a lot of support, they couldn't be more helpful and the fundraising support team are just the other end of the phone. I think I was just upset that I'd seen every other charity out at a cheer station, except mine. Also, I get really ratty when I'm in pain.
It was a gorgeous day for what ended up as more of a stroll/power walk around London for me, but I ran over the finish line, and when they gave me my medal, I would love to say that's the point I finally let myself have a little cry, but that would suggest that I had some control or choice in the matter - I did not. I burst into tears, but was told I wasn't the first crier of the day, so it was okay.
Mostly, I loved London Landmarks, but one thing that really sucked was how far away the bag drop was from the finish line. Whether you've walked it, run up, hopped it or whatever, it takes a lot out of you and the last thing you need to be doing is going on a trek through the City of London to collect your belongings and head back home, but there we go. Also, the loos were revolting by the end and there was so much plastic waste and crap by the end of it that it was slightly turning my stomach, but I rant about plastic enough, so I'll avoid that today.
When I was done, I managed to haul my ass back to my flat for long enough to find a swimsuit and more painkillers and then headed over to my gym and put myself into the spa pool (hot tub, but not mega hot) for half an hour to try and recover a little bit. I treasure my medal, and the photos even though I look like a fat dork on most of them, and the memories that I do have, but I cannot wait to do another run like that when I'm in better shape/health. It's also good to know I can cross a half marathon off my bucket list, and I never actually have to do it again!
Catch you later.
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