The London Marathon

Where to start on this ending to my London Marathon journey?

The marathon itself… giving you a mile by mile, blow by blow account is not what I imagine, anyone wants to read. Instead, let me tell you that my experience was one of extremes.

On the one hand, I was super thrilled it was a glorious day - but on the flip side, it was in reality, far too hot. So hot. So incredibly, very hot.

It was truly communal - there was so many people, slogging along just as I was… and on the flip side, there were SO MANY people slogging along…

A man knocked his elbow into my arm so hard at about mile 19 that for a moment I thought I was going to cry. Those were the moments where I hated people.

And then someone in the crowd would look me in the eye, call my name and shout “come on Lucy, you can do this” and those were the moments where I loved people.

There is a part in the marathon where you run alongside other runners coming back the other way and I saw Colin - we blew each other a kiss as we passed by each other and I thought that even in these huge crowds of people, isn’t it wonderful that you can still spot your person, connect with them, and feel a whole lot better about everything.

There was the top of the hill at mile 20 where my little support crowd were there with handmade signs, whooping and shouting and honestly, when you clap your eyes on people you love in these moments, they really work magic on your soul.

Then it goes back to being hard again - but for a moment, there is joy in the world again.

Getting towards the back end of the marathon you start to see the sights. You spot Big Ben peering out through the trees.

You see the London Eye.

You go past the Houses of Parliament and the Palace and everything becomes a bit of a blur as you realise you’re nearly done.

The runners around you start surging, you pick your pace up; I see the finish gantry but I don’t quite let myself believe it until I’m across the timing mats.

I’m handed a medal.

I’m fist bumped.

There are cameras all around me.

I’m still moving - unable to stop in case I don’t get going again.

And it’s a confusion of noise, of relief, of realisation of new pains in your body you hadn’t noticed, of unfathomable thirst, of fatigue and excitement and all of these things but mainly… that it’s the end. It’s over.

10 years in the making.

10 years I’ve tried to get to London.

This year I made it and it welcomed me.

The heart of London beats loud at the marathon. In the raucous cheering of the crowds, the laid back and generous hosting of the marshals, the way the man put my medal on me as if it were the only medal he’d given that day, not the three hundred thousandth, in the way people on the street walking back congratulate you, in the way the city says “you’re here, we’ll look after you, you‘ve got this”.

And it’s not just London that did that.

All this time, I’ve been surrounded by friends, strangers, colleagues and family who have encouraged me the whole way. The cards, the gifts, the well wishes, the donations, the check ins, the “how are you feeling?”s, the app stalkers, it’s all there.

So, what is the London Marathon?

It’s 26.2 miles.

And it’s a whole lot more than that.