You have been chomping at the bit for the second installment haven't you?!! Be honest now, it's that missing piece you have been waiting for to complete the jigsaw of your life isn't it?!! Well. worry no more, as here it is! Where were we? Aaaah yes, The run had just begun.....
The first hundred metres would be a clear indicator of how the run would go. With muscles getting a bit stiff during all the hanging-around time, it was difficult to work out what niggles would be shaken off on crossing the start line, or if there might be any that might persist and cause problems. Two great things happened at this point (only 9.9km to go; yay!); first of all, the muscles felt good - completely devoid of niggles! - and secondly I heard a call from the side of the road and there was my bruv seeing me off. We exchanged what I would describe as a manly handshake (which thanks to some googling I am reliably informed is called a 'jiveshake'! (never let it be said that I don't do any research for the sake of blogkind)), and with some rock and roll blaring through my headphones, I was ready to rock and roll!
The mantra for the start was 'dontstarttoofastdontstartoofastdontstarttoofast......' as a result it seemed like everyone in the entire race careered past me, leaving me what felt to be last of the 40,000. That little voice tempting me to pick up the pace was becoming more insistent, but I resisted; knowing that if I didn't go off too quickly, it would be highly likely that these same people would be passing me in the opposite direction later in the race. As it turned out, the prophecy was fulfilled for many of them before the first kilometre was out! The sprinters had quickly become walkers, paying the price far too early in the race. I know running in one of these races is an entirely personal achievement, but I would be lying if I said there wasn't some satisfaction in overtaking people. I felt like a proper Mo Farah!
So were there any points at which I struggled during the run? Any stage where I thought I wouldn't make it? Well, at the risk of sounding really boring, no there wasn't (sorry to disappoint the dramatists in the audience). The whole thing was brilliant. Inspirational music on the ipod, the scenery of Manchester whizzing (not too fast!) by, and knocking up the kilometre count made it so much more of a pleasure than a pain. But above all this, was the crowd; the wonderful, fantastic crowd. Imagine a group of people walking around with you all day at work, cheering you on.....'blimey Adrian, that was a fantastic e-mail you just sent; quite amazing'........'I can't believe how well you boiled that kettle Ade'..........'come on mate, it's 4:30, you're almost there; you can do this!!'......well, it's kinda like that. For the entire 10k, people were lining the route, cheering everybody on (particular mention to the British Heart Foundation cheerpoint, where supporters are on the look-out for BHF tee-shirts and vests to give them an extra loud shout-out); energy and goodwill given so freely is such a unique experience, and a wholly positive feeling which alone is worth all the training. But the best was yet to come.
As the eight kilometre mark came and went, I realised - incredulously - that there was plenty left 'in the tank'. Benefitting from not going off at the start like an antelope-hunting cheetah, I upped the pace. Yes, the old fat man, with 2km still to go actually felt fresh enough to go faster. I would find it impossible to believe if I hadn't actually been there!
Half a kilometre to go, and turning the last corner....and the finish was in sight! SOOOO many people, making SOOOOOO much noise!! I'm not actually certain whether my feet touched the ground down the home straight, instead I think I just rode the wave of positivity and goodwill - and volume! - all the way to the line. There was fist-pumping, there was 'COME-OOOON;-ing, there was my bruv yelling and yes, there was even a little punching of the air on crossing the finish line. Feeling ecstatic, feeling fantastic, feeling incredible.
Post-race was all a bit of a blur really, however I do distinctly remember spending most of it with an ear-to-ear grin on my face. Clare was there to meet me and there was much hugging of my sweaty body (ewwwwwwww, ew-ew-ewwwww). It was a kind of surreal feeling going back to reality - sitting down for a Costa coffee and having a bit of a chat with bruv and sis - as the previous few hours had been anything but. Part of me wanted to keep that feeling of adrenalin-fuelled joy, but it did fade after a short while. However I am happy to report it replaced by a more permanent, strong and sober feeling of achievement (still got it, two weeks later!); made all the more real by putting on the medal. It was a surprise to me how much of a buzz I got out of wearing a disc of metal!
Time for home, and by the time 5 o'clock ticked round, I was sat, at home, on my sofa with the TV on; amazed with what I had done with my day. I think extraordinary would not be too strong a word to describe it.
So, life goes on, blog goes on, I go on.....to Newcastle in September. Back in the gym, back in training, back to the weight loss, back to the focus. Don't worry though, I won't be moving on so much as to dismiss these memories to the rubbish bin (maybe the recycle bin!); they give me the strength and confidence to push on. Having said all that.......I guess I should take my medal off now, it's been a fortnight after all.......but can I sleep with it one more night please Mummy??.......
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