My First Marathon

Otherwise known as the first in a long list of stupid things I've done.

Well, I did it. My first ever marathon distance covered. But hopefully not my last (more on this later…)

Let's start with an apology for my absence here. I know I planned to post twice a week, but one of the things I also promised myself was that I wouldn’t feel obliged and half-arse it because that’s when I start to resent it, and I love writing. So, sorry, but there are also many changes afoot in my world, so hopefully, I’ll have more time to indulge in things I love rather than just eating and sleeping.

But onwards with my Marathon tales. But I’m going to start with some clarifications.

• A Marathon is 26.2 miles. Other distances are available, even for the Cancer Research Shine Night Walk. Technically, this matters only because I walked 26.2 BLOODY MILES, and I selfishly want to ensure that it’s clear that I did not do the 10k local version this year, which is 6.2 miles. That’s 20 miles less. So we’re clear.

• Secondly. I WALKED this Marathon. I would have loved to run it, but we are absolutely not there yet with my recovery. A Marathon refers to the distance. Not how it is covered (though traditionally, it would be on foot)

Now we’re done with that, I can tell you how my first marathon experience went.

It went well, thanks for asking. We were part of the first wave of walkers to set off, at 7pm, just as the sun set. The vibe at the start in Battersea Park was great, people were excited to get started, and there were light-up capes and glow sticks everywhere.

As with any event like this it was slow going at the start as everyone set off across the river, but it very soon spread out and became a little like a concertina. The roads weren’t shut, so occasionally you had to wait for crossing lights. You would squidge up with a group of walkers as you crossed the lights, then overtake them, or they’d pull ahead, and for a bit, you could only just see other people in the distance, then you’d get to another crossing, or one of the aid points, and everyone would squidge up again.

It took us a little under 10 hours to finish. I would say the first 5 hours or so, I felt weirdly tired and also really warm as it seemed to get increasingly humid. I genuinely wondered how I was going to stay awake and walking until 5am. Then, as midnight passed, I think my body realised this was happening whether it liked it or not and stopped reporting to my brain that it was tired. Either that or it was the Red Bull Mr Gem stopped and bought from a corner shop kicking in (Honestly, this is what energy drinks are actually MEANT for guys, that and mixing with vodka).

Fuelled by sugar, caffeine, and cheese strings, the next three hours flew by in a haze of aid stops dishing out malt loaf and an occasional light drizzle. This was great; nothing hurt that much, and me and my walking poles were stomping through the night. The atmosphere was nice, the aid stops were well stocked, the portaloos were clean, and the London sights were plentiful.

At mile 21 we were at Trafalgar Square. I stopped for a photo with that bloke standing on a big stick, and the end was in sight.

Then the light drizzle turned into rain, and I made my big mistake.

I did a very sensible thing the day before we left for London. Seeing rain was forecast, I went into a Go Outdoors and bought a very expensive pair of Sealskinz waterproof socks. Then I did a second very sensible thing, which was to decide to pop them in my rucksack for the walk, seeing as I hadn’t worn them to walk in before, and only put them on if I needed them. When given the opportunity to do a third very sensible thing and actually put the socks on when it started bucketing down with rain, I’m afraid all common sense deserted me. In my defence, it was 3am, and this is not a time of day that is often synonymous with common sense, even when alcohol isn’t involved. I don’t have any research to back this up, but I would say that at least 60% of stupid decisions are made in the small hours of the morning. Having already walked 21 miles, my brain felt that I had such a short amount of walking left that it would surely be a waste of time to change my socks for a mere 5 miles. The fact is, that 5 miles is actually still a significant distance, nearly 2 hours of walking, and with wet feet, this was a lovely opportunity for my feet to turn into one massive blister and make walking really difficult for a good week afterwards.

I’m an idiot.

Those last 2 hours are a bit of a rainy fuzz, and I am absolutely sure that the last “200 yards” back through Battersea Park were nothing of the sort and actually went on forever.

Arriving at the finish venue at Evolution in Battersea Park was actually a bit surreal. It was dark, with glowy lights and a DJ playing music. It felt like a nightclub but full of really tired, sweaty people. Wait, hang on. Yeah, it felt exactly like a nightclub but full of sober people.

I stood still for a few minutes to take a photo with my medal, and when I started walking again 15 minutes later, my body obviously decided to start reporting back to my brain again because my feet HURT.

Another sensible decision we had made during daylight hours was to say “fuck it” and book ourselves the expensive hotel close to the finish line so we could go to bed instead of sleeping on the floor till the trains started running on a Sunday morning. It was only half a mile away, but our feet did not enjoy being asked to do any more walking. As long as I didn’t listen to my feet, it was actually very pleasant. The sun had started to come up, the rain had stopped, and, for once, London had very few people in it. This is when London is at its nicest, I think, and a time I haven’t seen it for about 25 years since I used to come out of actual nightclubs at this time of day.

And that is a somewhat abridged account of my first-ever Marathon. I haven’t told you about the cat asleep in the window of an antique shop (the video is on Insta), or the confusion when all our watches started telling us the wrong distance because they’d had to change the route due to an accident on Tower Bridge (It all worked out in the end). I also haven’t told you much about our fancy hotel (It had a pool and hot tub on the roof overlooking Battersea Power Station to recover in, a nice hot shower and clean sheets to crawl into at 5:30am, that’s all you need really).

And, so, onto why this is hopefully not my LAST marathon. You guys will be the first to officially know this!