London Marathon 2010 - been there, done it!

So, I did it. The training paid off, the advice was well heeded, and I ran every damn step of the Virgin London Marathon 2010, in five hours and 24 mins.

It felt like so much energy, time, blood, sweat and tears had gone into this one day that once it was over I barely had enough energy left to celebrate it. I'm making up for that though.
It's hard to know where to start, there was so much happening over two days.
It started early on Saturday, 4.30am early to be precise, as I had to get the early bus to London so I could get to the Marathon Expo event and pick up my official number and timing chip.
They said to get there early in order to avoid the queues, but it also gave me lots of time to spend money of merchandise like three new London Marathon branded Adidas tops. I decided I'd worked hard enough to treat myself.
I spent the rest of the day in London with my friend Kirsty who has been filming my training progress for the past year, with more patience than I probably deserve. We went up to the starting point in Greenwich Park, which was full of people enjoying the very warm sun, and it just made me feel physically sick at the thought of running any distance.
I think I decided there and then that there was no way I could possibly run a marathon. What the hell was I thinking? Why had I even bothered applying in the first place.
But I also spoke to my friend Marc who assured me this was all normal and that 'cacking yourself' is all part of the build up.
That made me feel a bit better but I was still taken by a pervading sense of self doubt.

I spent the night at Amy's aunt and uncle's home in Rickmansworth as they kindly offered to let us use it as base camp for the weekend, and even laid on a specially-requested pre-marathon dish consisting of stir fried chicken in tomato and marscapone sauce with a huge amount of penne pasta. I had also had a chargrilled chicken fillet burger with chips and salad for lunch that day, so felt that I had probably done well with the carbo-loading.
Just before going to bed I fixed the number on to the front of my official British Heart Foundation running top which Amy had also fixed the letters spelling out my name on the night before.
Then I fixed the timing tag into my laces on my running shoes, checked that I'd remembered my shorts and other vitals, and slept fairly well.

Race day on Sunday was pretty busy from the off as well and the scene at the start was quite different from 24 hours previously.
It was simply heaving with people, it was like being at a music festival where everybody wears lycra instead of jeans and the faint aroma of Deep Heat fills the air rather than marijuana.
Although amazingly I did see a runner, must have been around 20 years old, walking up to the start smoking a fag.
Everybody had told me to just enjoy the day and that the hard work was over, but I found it really hard to enjoy much of the five hours and 24 mins I was on my feet. That's not to say I hated it, far from it, it was amazing and life affirming and all those things, but it was bloody hard work.
I'm glad I took my iPod with me because right from the start I had to really work hard to keep myself in check and stick to a very simple plan - start slowly, keep going slowly and eventually you'll make it.
But of course everybody around me was whizzing past like their arse was on fire, so with my specially selected tunes on which I'd trained with I was able to concentrate on just keeping to my own pace and, as the cliche goes, running my own race.
I had to keep taking my mind off the time and how long I thought I was going to take and just keep going on putting one foot in front of the other most of the time.
There was so much going on around me, a pantomime camel trotted past a couple of times, somebody in a full on Womble outfit, a couple of Fred Flintstones, at least two firemen in full breathing aparatus (which could have been an advantage if it wasn't so heavy) plenty of veteran in the 70 + category who happily went past me and one or two who gave me a nod of encouragement. And some brave/foolish soul in a suit of armour, although I'm pretty sure it wasn't really metal.

I'm really glad that I had my name on the front of my top as well because so many people shouted my name in encouragement, either that or some other bloke called Simon was running just behind and knows loads of people in London.
Now I'm not saying I'm a slow runner but for several miles the guy unwittingly acting as my pacemaker was a big bloke called Aitch who was running for the Meningitis Trust and was actually limping along through injury, but at just the right pace for me to keep going. So thanks Aitch, you may not have appreciated your injured right foot, but it helped me!
The crowds at the side of the road never seemed to disappear, they definitely thinned out, but were there all the way and I did enjoy getting some big cheers from Britsh Heart Foundation points and elsewhere.
I seemed to be running with a lot of the same people for much of the way, the although I only knew them from how they looked behind, some more appealing than others.
I also did my bit to encourage other runners, particularly other BHF runners, but it was noticable how much less sociable I became as my energy levels depleted.
It was really easy to get distracted by everything going on, so I'm pleased I kept my focus on what I needed to achieve and I as I approached 15 miles I felt it was going to get tough from that point. It was very timely that not long after that I managed to spot Amy who was waving madly, so I went over for a quick hug and word of encouragement, which boosted my energy for a little while.
A lot of people had taken to walking at this point as well, which I was kind of surprised about. I honestly thought that most people would be running all the way until about 20 or so. Getting through the next five miles was the hardest part in a way, although I'd done that distance before, it was just such a bloody long time to be running. When I made it to 20 I felt I would make it all the way from that point because I could start to count down the miles, slowly but surely.
I saw Amy again at 20, which helped too. Things did start to get quite gruelling though. At one point I couldn't tell who was walking and who was running and which I was doing. My feet were really hot and starting to feel very sore and although I knew I wasn't out of gas, my body was started to feel the pain of this most unnatural thing to be doing.
I made it to 22 miles a good five minutes quicker than I had in training which felt good but I also knew that from that point everything would be new and uncharted territory for me, but I knew I was so close that there was no way I was going to blow up.
I saw my parents at about this point, just as we were coming out of the City and round to the Embankment, they were waving hysterically and screaming my name as I couldn't hear them because of mu iPod up loud, but managed to see them at the last second. I reckoned it must be pretty tough on spectators to have to wait three or four hours for their loved one to come past only to watch them trundle on past without registering their support. 
Coming down Embankment was when it really started to seem real to me. For most of the run, you are really running around residential streets and could be anywhere, apart from when you go over Tower Bridge, which I thought was alright but no Clifton Suspension Bridge.
Coming round the bend to go down Embankment at about 24 miles gives you the great London views and you know you are in sight of the finish almost. I'd been running for close to five hours by then and had to really dig deep for energy.
I had seen people pulling up with injuries, being treated by medics, at least one stretcher and one person taking off the course because they were so buggered, so I knew what could happen any second potentially but was determined not to fall at these final fences.
It was around this point that I knew why I had spent months and months training and preparing for this event. It all came down to these last few miles and despite the pain my feel and aching legs, I still had the strength to keep going.
I had done everything that people had advised. I'd taken the training very seriously, I'd done the long runs, I done the hill runs, I had taken a drink at every station to keep my hydrated, I'd used the gels to give me a boost and most important of all I hadn't gone off too fast.
It didn't matter that I was barely running any faster than most of the people walking around me, because it was my goal to run the London Marathon all the way, and I was doing it.
I found the pace that I was comfortable at, which involved little more than putting one foot in front of the other and I knew that if I just kept doing that I would get to the finish.
The tunes were giving me a lot of encouragement too, the Rocky theme tune moment was special, as was Faithless' God Is A DJ and of course my own theme tune Lose Yourself, by Eminem.
Embankment was great, loads of cheering and great crowd atmosphere, but then going under the 25 mile mark was just unbelievable. That was when I knew I was going to finish, there was no way I wasn't going to finish the last 1.2 miles, even if it had to be on my hands and knees.
Things were getting a bit cheesetastic on the iPod at this point and out of nowhere D-Ream started up with Things Can Only Get Better, which was surprisingly uplifting.
As we went round Parliament I did the most unbelievable sight of a Japanese couple who had been running the race, stopped in the middle of the course to take pictures of each other with Parliament in the background. I'm really not sure that was the best time for sightseeing.
I was past caring though and just fixing my sights on the Mall, which after almost five and a half hours came into view and I honestly couldn't believe I was there having run all the way.
I went under the huge banner saying 365 yards to go and felt like I might get a bit choked up. I was dreaming of finishing, taking a bath, eating a pizza, seeing Amy, showing off my medal and just not having to run.
Finally the finish line, and I crossed it in five hours, 24 mins and 20 seconds, placed 30,538 out of 36,578. Ahead of Michelle Heaton and Ricky Whittle to name but two 'celebs' Having trained for a year, lost four stone in weight and raised (so far) more than £2000 for the British Heart Foundation.

 You'd think that would be enough, but weirdly my legs wouldn't stop running, it was like a scene out of the Wrong Trousers and I had no control over my limbs, I had to keep trotting around the finish area just to get them to stop spasming.
Got my medal, got my goodie bag and my kit bag (organisation of this event was spot on) and found Amy and my parents, at which point I started blubbing like a big fat baby.
I appreciate that reading this blog entry is a bit of a marathon experience in itself, so if you do get to this point, thank you and thank you for all your support, sponsorship, encouragement and general lovliness this last year. I may have been running it on my own but I felt like there was a lot of people with me - which there was obviously, but I don't mean the other runners, you know what I mean, even if it is a little trite.
I'm so pleased it went well because if I'd had to pull out or walk for several miles I think I'd never go back to running, but with this experience to inspire me I'd think I'd love to do it again, and maybe aim for that five hour personal best next time. Amy will be pleased that I might be training even harder for the next one! She'll be launching her own How to be a Marathon Widow blog soon.
Now all that's left to do is keep fundraising to hit my £3,000 target, which is actually harder than running a marathon - www.justgiving.co.uk/simonpeevers