Focus, breathe, pace, breathe, don't think of the miles, don't count the miles, breathe, pace, focus, don't think of the distance, use the crowd, breathe, lose yourself in the music, don't count the miles, don't think of the distance, breathe, focus, calm, calm, calm, don't count the miles....
Such was the post-halfway mantra. The surge of adrenalin which came from crossing London Bridge wore off at about mile sixteen on the realisation that twenty-six miles minus sixteen miles was still.....a really long way. I tried so hard not to think, because thinking meant thinking about how long there was to go. I tried so hard not to look, because looking meant seeing the mile posts not coming and going fast enough. I tried so hard not to feel, because feeling meant feeling...well. .....pain! Instead I enjoyed the crowd, enjoyed my music, enjoyed the increasingly boisterous AGE UK cheerpoints, and of course my own personal cheering sections dotted en route.
Yep, you've heard it before and you are about to hear it again; the crowd was extraordinary; a limitless source of energy; but it was those people just there for me who gave that extra boost. If it wasn't milking the charity supporters as they yelled out my name by megaphone (and by jingo I milked it until the the udders fell off),it was Paul, Martha, Dom and Christina roaring me on to the finish. Quite superb.
These particular moments, dotted along the course are the ones are not only impossible to forget, they are etched in detail on the memory. They are a strange narrowing of a large world which is already pretty strange (oh yes, he's going off on one again.....strap yourselves in; it's gonna be a bumpy ride!). There you are, one of thousands, being cheered on by hundreds of thousands - utterly brilliant - then suddenly you spot a familiar face in the crowd and your world concentrates itself into that small zone; the bit of atmosphere which separates the two of you. You are no longer being encouraged by strangers, you find yourself rooted for by someone who is sharing more than just this one experience with you. The thousands vanish, and for the brief moment that you come near them, come level with them and then leave them behind; you are the only people cheering, and the only person running. It's real magic.
There were three particularly surprising surprises during the second half. The first was at mile eighteen (and no cheeky, the surprise was not that......I made it to mile eighteen!.....I don't know, you just can't get the readers these days.....). The road narrowed severely at this point, bunching the athletes (love saying that word; athletes....athletes...ATHLETES!!) as well as bringing the spectators in closer. I was very much in the zone, focused; only to see a high-five hand thrust in front of me by Mark Bennett - colleague and technical director at my new company - and then by his wife Amy. They were there supporting Amy's sister, and stuck around to wait for me. As it turned out they didn't have to wait for long! Fives were highed; but by the time I realised whose hands I was slapping I was doing that weird, back-of-the-hand wave as I left them behind. It's great to have family and close friends supporting me, but the unexpected support is arguably even more special. It instantly brought the finish line that little bit closer.
Now you may have noticed that for some time Wee Ali has not been mentioned; enter stage right surprise number two. Okay, the presence of her in the crowd though wonderful, could hardly be called a surprise; but it was the manner of her appearance at mile nineteen that struck me as somewhat spooky! By the time I had reached this point, all knowledge of which friends and family would be cheering where was completely lost on me (to be honest, that happened at mile three, but don't tell anyone will you??!); it was therefore their dubious and nigh-on impossible task of visually combing (how do you do that, surely you would get a prong in the eye?) the runners for me, followed by SCREAMING my name to attract my attention. Unless of course you are Wee Ali; in which case you just stand by one of the barricades and wait for me to come right past!
The chances that I would at that time be on that side of the road - right by the barriers - were pretty slim, but add to that the chances that my wandering, distraction-seeking eyes would meet hers makes the lottery look like a roll of the dice! It was lovely. Fortunately, spotting someone early coupled with marathon pace allows for quite a bit of hand-slapping and cheering (I also dimly recall saying 'well hello there!'; how profound!). I'm not saying that we had time for a mocha and a natter, but it was enough to send me on my way with a skip (metaphorical, I've just run nineteen miles......you want SKIPPING??!). Never was there a loin more girded.
The final, most unexpected and possibly most meaningful encounter came not long after. Approaching the 20 mile marker, and thinking that my final supporter must surely be behind me, with everyone making for the finish line (there's confidence for you; and yes, I am aware that that is ahead of me!), my courage thrown to the sticking place and the final push.......
'Reg.....!!!'
(did I hear someone just yell 'Reg'??? Naaah, must have imagined it)
'REEEEEEEG.......!!'
(no, I distinctly did here someone yelling 'Reg'! I'll just pull my earphones off so I can hear properly)
'REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!'
and there they were; the most unexpected of the unexpected.....a group of my old university pals!!
(Yes, I know what's got your head scratching......Reg?? It's a long story....actually, no; it's quite a short story. A nickname which was given to me at secondary school which I mistakenly leaked to university. It caught on to such an extent that people thought my name really WAS Reg! All I can say is Daniel Nolan of St. Ambrose College, Hale Barns; thank you very much, and you'll get yours!)
There were the people in their thousands you expected to be there, there were the charity supporters who you expected to be there, there were the personal supporters who you knew or hoped would be there, but these guys making the effort to support me was a concept which not once ventured to venture into my mind. Such a massive surprise. I don't mind telling you that the unexpectedness made it quite emotional; and one thing you don't need when every bit of oxygen and fluid is required for leg-pumping, is to get all sniffly and teary-eyed!
After that though, at mile twenty; I really was on my own. The final six miles. The glory. The end of the odyssey. All waiting for me down the Mall. I couldn't possibly fail now could I?........
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