The Long Awaited..........pt 3

About ten yards behind the giant, slightly sinister looking pink doll, right next to a guy in drag with a wig that could only be described as Marge Simpsonesque, and within stampeding distance of a bunch of rhinos. Only the London Marathon could provide such ethnic and surreal diversity!

I confess that at that particular moment (as one of the soon-to-be-released photographs will testify) I was not at my most fashionable. For those not in the know, by this stage you have divested yourself of your belongings to such an extent that all you are wearing is the gear you are running in, with whatever else you have on thrown away en-route to the starting line. As a result one wears things you don't mind losing. So for a change I had a bona-fide, concrete, solid as a rock (the thrill is stiiiill ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-hot) excuse for being a fashion disaster.

With twenty minutes to go, on went the headphones and I was lost in the elitest of inspirational tunes (aaaaaa-gaaaaaaa-do-do-do, push pineapple….kidding... .kidding..), closed my eyes and did that visualisation thing of finishing the race (sadly I think I was a bit too realistic and ended up visualising the hail and subsequent boarding of a cab around Tower Bridge), checked my watch every half hour to find that only two minutes had elapsed, and otherwise tried to quiet the noisy mind. After all, there wasn’t much to get worked up about was there. 

I often wonder how the overall noise of a crowd is created; that unintelligible murmur which comes from the total sum of so many individual voices. It sounds nothing at all like speech, but to me sounds like electricity (oh he's going somewhere with this......I hope). A current running through all the runners, powering us, energising us all; a thoroughly thrilling feeling. Then, minutes before the start of the race; there was a power cut.....silence.....thirty seconds silence to be precise, in memory of the tragedy at the Boston Marathon, and all those affected. It was quite simply extraordinary, no other word for it; thousands of people united in the task ahead, united in tribute.

 

Electricity re-connected, power surge; flowing, no, flooding through us all. Back at home and watching the tv coverage, Steve Cram said something which is very worthy of repeating....

 

'If you're looking to break the human spirit, marathoners are the wrong group to pick on'

 

.....I love that line, and as the starting pistol went and we commenced our 'pre-race shuffle' it was exactly how I felt, how we all felt. As if any further motivation were needed!!

Now, my experience of these runs is that it can be up to an hour between the official start, and my own start; imagine the surprise as within minutes the Greenwich Park gates came and went, followed by a fast approaching starting line. I had my customary handshake and 'good luck' with one of my neighbours (Scottish lass with jelly-babies in her rucksack!), a quick text to friends and family, and finally.....finally........

.....FINALLY......

I was on my way.