So What Now??

Some time before the marathon, I remember seeing documentaries on gold medal winning Olympians – generally British ones after 2012 – talking about the immediate and long term aftermath of a success that had been the objective of their entire careers; the quest to be the best in the world. Most of the stories tended to be ones of depression, of huge anti-climax; going back to the Olympic village to sit in their room and stare at the wall. What followed was a loss of direction in the subsequent years; trying to fathom out what there is left to strive for, now that their goal has been reached. What do they do next?

Okay, I don’t put myself in the same league as a Hoy (there matey!....sorry; set that joke up for myself, just could not resist), an Ovett or a Coe. Nevertheless I wondered; if I was lucky enough to see it all through, would my reaction be the same? After all the effort, the quite literal blood, sweat and tears, the running, the blisters, the doubt, the blogging; would it all be made worthwhile or would I – like those Olympic chumps before me – be left empty. If I managed to do it would I now have a clue why on earth I did it? It was a worry.

And now, getting on for a year later……the answer??

Don’t be so blummin’ daft…………IT’S BRILLIANT!!!!  

We have one life, and in that life we have to find meaning, we have to find worth, we have to find purpose, we have to find happiness. How that meaning, worth, purpose and happiness manifests itself is different for us all; and no one person can judge another by these unique definitions. That said; I can highly HIGHLY recommend doing something. Something challenging, something 'out there', something you are just not sure you will be able to do. If you fail, you tried; but if you succeed you, like many before can say 'I was there; I DID THAT!!'. You take it with you, and nothing nor nobody can take it away. 

I'm honestly not sure if it has changed my life - I'll never know what I would be doing or where I would be doing it had I not taken on the challenge (kinda like that feeling of taking another route if you're stuck in a traffic jam!) - but I feel the better for it. I am fitter, I am slimmer, I am sharper; and what's more; when life is difficult - as we all know it can be, often - the memories of the last two years are a limitless reservoir of positivity I can dip into whenever I please, telling me to push on and push through.

Hang on, just going to take a dip now..............oooooooh YES!!

So.......what now?? Does it all end here? Do I leave all you gentle readers with a gaping hole in your lives without being able to read the latest exploits of the man who is now more fit than fat? Well; yes and no.....

Yes this blog will soon be drawing to a close - just one more post and it will then stand as a monument to endeavour and possibility. As for the future, I have plans. As you know, there is a relatively new job in front of me; in a new location. Exciting though this is; time and energy will be required in order to make a go of it. Early indications are extremely positive, extremely extremely; but this is all the more reason to keep that momentum going. 

What else? Well, I'm sick of renting, so am saving like crazy to buy a place of my own. This won't be easy in the current economic climate but hey; I laugh in the face of 'not easy' before tweaking it's nose and giving it a slap. I also have a slightly crazy idea of getting this blog published. I know I know; so many bloggers have hoped the same and come a cropper, but I think what I have done is a good story worthy of the telling; and it's a fun read. What the hell do I know eh? But what I am sure of is that if I don't try I will always wonder, and that is not unacceptable. Who knows? If I do get into proper bookey-type print, it could make a contribution towards the new digs fund!

On an even more personal note, I haven't yet resigned myself to the single life. It's not something which I am afraid of, but as beings on this earth we are designed to be in a pair (animals went in two-by-two hurrah and all that). Okay, I'm not walking around the streets of Stevenage with a sandwich board saying 'PLEEEEEEEEASE LOVE MEEEEEE!!!'; but I still believe in romance, and I would love to date again, fall in love again, and this time stay fallen. Here's hoping!    
   
There are other things. Learning how to play guitar, joining a badminton club, taking up salsa classes again, doing a bit of amateur dramatics; but the big question is, whether I accomplish any or all of these things, is there room in my life for another challenge?

......pause for dramatic effect........

Of course there is! And God help me it could be even more challengeyer than the London Marathon. For those of you not in the know; an Olympic distance triathlon comprises of a 1500m open water swim, a 40km bike ride, and a 10km run. Now this is a tough ask for the average person; but for me I have a bad feeling I have set my sights too high.

I know what you're thinking; 'he can run a marathon, what's so difficult about a bit of a swim, bike ride and a wee jog?!' Well it's like this; I can swim, although possibly in need of some practice. I think it's safe to say that I can run, but riding a bike is a problem; the problem being that I.....can't. Never learned.

After much research, I can confirm that I have a real problem with modes of transportation which, when you let go of them, fall over. Two wheels are just wrong. Unfortunately official triathlons doe not accept tricycles (ironic), so if I am going to do one I have to learn to ride. Following on from that, I have to learn to ride with confidence, then I have to learn to ride with confidence in amongst a bunch of other bikes, then I have to learn to ride with confidence in amongst a bunch of other bikes for 40km, after swimming 1500m....followed by running 10km!!!

This one may well be beyond me. I have weight to lose - again! - and a long way to go; but as always I am going to enjoy the journey and......well......I might just amaze myself.......again!

So watch this space. Well, not this particular space as that's where this writing is, and not much is going to happen once you've read it. What I mean is look out for blog number two, because what's the point of a challenge if I can't waffle on about it eh?!!

Beyond The Chequered Flag.....

The organisation of the London Marathon 2013 was something quite special (it's almost like they've done it before). From the finish line you are instantly channelled down a reception line comprising of.....

• A person on their knees in front of you, worshipping at your very feet; oh, and removing your timing chip.
• Another person - not without its ceremony! - adorning you with an official finishers medal.
• The official finishers photo (all of us looking at our most sweaty and bedraggled; now that will stand resplendent on the mantelpiece of......no one).
• The official finishers pack of goodies, which I already knew contained at least an apple as half my fellow sweatoons were already chomping into theirs 
• Bag pick up. Yes, those pesky lorries which took our belongings away were by some miracle (the miracle of....errr....driving...) waiting for us at the end. By the time I got there they had already spotted my race number and were holding out my bag....such service!!

Yes, I can't deny it; the operation is incredibly slick; and it was only a matter of fifteen minutes before I was peeling off the masking tape (not one hint of joggers nipple, although numerous scorching cases of red-raw tape stickage!), donning my tracksuit, and stood, eating my apple, trying hard and not entirely succeeding at coming to terms with what I had just achieved. Behind me were the bedraggled but exhilarated bodies who just realised that after 26 miles of running they still had to do a bit of walking; with may I say not all of them looking capable of managing it!

I joined this peculiar, shuffling throng of people - if you imagine the scene of a zombie attack in 'The Walking Dead' your imagination won't be too far off! - the next task being trying to find The Royal Society building as it was here that Age UK were stationed with their welcome wagon, as well as where all my scattered supporters were going to converge. Sadly I had lost all memory of where it was, so opted for striking up a conversation with a father and daughter (looking remarkably fresh; did they take a taxi?!) wearing the identical charity vest to mine. The purposeful way they were walking filled me with directional confidence; and even if I got lost, I would not be alone!

As it turned out, I needn't have worried; only a few minutes had passed before a woman's tannoyed voice (who to be honest didn't need the tannoy) boomed out...

'AGE UK......THIS WAY!!!'

And from thence my good people we were led to paradise (okay, it probably wasn't but it felt like it). Our bags were taken from us (don't worry, they were given back afterwards), we were led up a flight of steps and - with envious eyes looking on - vanished into the oh-so-posh surroundings of the Royal Society. I don't think Sir Isaac Newton envisaged its hallowed halls being put to this sort of use!

'Hellooooo theeeere!!!! Congratulations!! How are you feeling?? You've done brilliantly. Here's your finishers pack (another one!); would you like a drink? Don't worry; we'll take your bags and keep them safe here. Could I take your name?'

'Errrrrr, Adrian Blaydon'

'Adrian.....Adrian.......aaaaaah there you are! Now then, the photographer is over there; do you want to do that first, go and grab a beer, or do you want to head downstairs for your massage?'

(What a choice; photo commemorating the greatest achievement of my life to date, guilt free alcohol, or smoothing out my aches and pains. Life really is a bitch sometimes ain't it?)

'I'll grab the photos first and then head down for a massage if that's okay. Oh, I hope you don't mind but I've got some supporters coming along. Could you let them know where I am?'

'Of course, don't you worry; we'll look after them. Actually, there are some people waiting for you already!'

And there, out on the balcony were Alison and Kevin; big smiles, big hugs (and that's just me and Kevin!) and a bit of chatting on the mobile phone with other supporters on their way before I politely excused myself for the fame of a photograph and the comfort of a pair of massaging hands.

Actually, as it turned out; there were TWO pairs of massaging hands!! Looking around I noticed that I was getting the special treatment; the typical ratio being 1:1. Whether it was due to the fact that when I was asked 'what particular parts of your body are hurting' and I said 'everywhere!' I really don't know; but after they had pummelled me for twenty minutes I could have hugged them both....in fact.....looking back I think I might have (sorry if by some slim chance you are reading this....and thank you for your blessed healing hands!). Incidentally it was there; whilst waiting for my massage number to come up, for the first time in well over five hours, that I sat down! Never was something so simple so incredibly welcome.

Heading back out onto the balcony, there was a considerable increase in 'buzz'; with more finishers and more relatives arriving (most of the former opting for a beer rather than a massage.... and who can blame them?!). My own personal buzz, was more of a roar! They were all there: Paul (Brother), Martha (Paul's partner), Dom (brother), Christina (Dom's partner), Clare (sister), Greg (brother), Patricia (sister-in-law), Alejandro (nephew) and Ana (niece). As I discovered later, each athlete emerging into the sun would receive a concentrated cheer from one of the tables, followed by applause from everyone else; but I like to think that my cheer was loudest!

I hope if anything, you've established that I am a positive person; I flatter myself extremely positive. So much of life is a challenge to maintain that positivity; but that whole day, every second of it, every step, was flooded with goodness, culminating in supping a nice cold beer - or four - amongst family and close friends. Even if most of them were not my family or my close friends; they were somebody's! The sort of warmth I felt from sitting there in that atmosphere was not down to the sun. Photos were snapped, stories told (about the nutter with the whiteboard, the guy in the big doll outfit, the journeys my adoring fans made in order to see me....at times just as exciting!), beers drunk, laughs laughed and hugs hugged before the inevitable disbandment of what will hitherto be called 'The Fellowship of the Run'.

As we went our separate ways (me heading back to the car; if only I could remember where I'd bloody well parked it) sure it was a bit sad; but the journey back to my brothers place was a chance to contemplate. I'd actually done it. I'd actually done it. I'D ACTUALLY DONE IT!!!! It is strange to experience a fact which is simultaneously so easy, and so impossible to believe. Texts of congratulation sent from university Gavin, work Mark and the homeward bound members of The Fellowship kept confirming it, my own memory confirmed it, and yet I could still not believe the sheer magnitude of the achievement. I looked down, and there lay irrefutable evidence; the medal still round my neck. Oh yes! 

A shower, a quick chance to inspect the damage - a lot of sunburn, and a few abrasions but other than that, surprisingly unscathed - and slipping into something less athletic; we were off to Café Rouge for the biggest no guilt, binge, pig out, three course, gimme gimme-gimme, yum-yum, scoff-scoff meal I have ever had. After which it was time to play a live TV game of 'Where's Wally'; and when I say 'Wally' I mean me, and the 'scene'? The recorded footage of the marathon start line! As it turned out, it was an impossible game; there were just too many bobbing heads to pick up my slightly balding pate among them; and I wasn't wearing a red and white striped bobble hat. Still; I saw some of the more extravagantly dressed runners that I passed - and regrettably passed me - along the way. Nice memories, and more evidence that I was actually there.

All too soon it was bedtime; the end of a day which felt like a week, and the impending thud of reality.

Monday morning 7:30am I was back in the office.....!

The Race - Final Miles

In those many years of couch potatoism, sat on a Sunday morning watching the marathon on tv; I always imagined those last three or four miles being the worst. The most agonising, the most desperate. So close to the goal while at the same time trying to convince the body to keep moving. Energy at an all time low, exhausted like never before. But there, in the tv looking out; I found the experience quite different. Sure I was knackered, everything was hurting and I had long ceased to count the miles (being now reduced to just making it to the next lamp post); but I felt so so SOOOOOOOO good. Yes, you heard me; I felt good! Was I mad?? Well, of course yes; anyone who runs a marathon is clinically insane, but in this particular case there was some method within it.

It went like this. With so little distance remaining there was no way ON THE PLANET I was going to stop now. I had come so far - not just 23 miles, far longer in both distance and time - so whatever was to befall me now (tripping over...leg falling off...extinction life event meteor) was utterly irrelevant. I was going to finish the race.

Now, to realise this before the race was actually over was quite a revelation; to feel a supreme confidence of success before the success was achieved. And what did this mean for me on those remaining miles? what was I doing? what was I feeling? Well that's quite simple.....

.....I was celebrating!!

Okay, I had no energy to punch the air, hell I had no energy to even so much as raise my hands above my shoulders; and yes it hurt....a lot. But don't let that fool you, I was loving every step. The crowds were intensifying, feeding off the atmosphere and contributing to it thousands of times over, making themselves well and truly heard. I honestly could not quite believe what I was seeing and hearing near journeys end. The crescendo building to its incredible - and what I now was sure of, inevitable - climax.

Then comes mile 23-24, and 'The Tunnel Of Yes'. Yes, yes, there was a tunnel of yes; ooooooh yes!! When you explain it as 'just a tunnel where they were handing out bottles of Lucozade with inspirational messages on balloons lining the route' it really doesn't seem like much; but I tell you, it was exactly what we all needed. Helpers yelling us on, spectators booming out their support, and runners exchanging meaningful glances with their fellow exhaustees; every one of us united in two simple words......

......almost.....

......there.....

Then comes the tunnel itself (video below), and the roar of the crowds dies away, leaving only the sound of running shoe on tarmac, and very, very heavy breathing. Weird in the extreme, not to mention the perfect time to break into a sneaky walk, or stop under the pretence of stretching your calves - no one will ever know - but when you start reading those balloons; telling us......

HAVE YOU GOT MORE IN YOU?!!

BE PROUD

ENJOY THE MOMENT

PAIN IS TEMPORARY

KEEP GOING

DIG DEEP

NEVER GIVE UP

GLORY AWAITS

YOU ARE SO CLOSE

......and fatigue?......PEH!!.....what fatigue!!? I was going all the way baby! I will admit to a few tears on reading those messages, but what happened next utterly finished me off. Just as quickly as the crowd noise died away entering the tunnels, we were battered by it coming out; and what a noise. It made what went before seem like a vow of silence. It felt like coming home.

Unfortunately it only felt like it, I still had to run! Regaining focus was impossible; to be honest I didn't want to. Moments like these are rare and fleeting, and may never happen again (and even if I have another crack at the London Marathon, I will never again have a first time), so I drank it in; enjoyed it. Even allowing myself the odd wave and fist-pump.

Mile twenty-five and people around me started getting out their phones; talking to friends and family at the finish, finding out where they would be standing. I thought about doing the same, but was very sceptical of my chances of unzipping arm pouch, getting phone out, dialling number, talking, putting phone back in arm pouch and zipping said arm pouch without a severe case of droppage and multi running shoe-tramplage (see, I'm a runner now, I know all the technical terms!).

Is this really happening? Am I really here and doing this? Have I almost done this or am I going to wake up tomorrow morning nineteen and a half stone again with all of this just a fantasy?

Nope, it was very much real. Twenty-five miles and 385 yards gone - one mile to go - and the distance markers are now counting down the distance remaining, 200 yards at a time. Passing one, I could already see the next one in the distance, beckoning me on; pulling me towards it. 400 yards to go, and the tarmac goes from black to the familiar red; coincided with the first view of Buckingham Palace in all its glory. The final turn down The Mall, and the finish in sight.

Now there are many possible emotions available to a person at the end of a two year long challenge. The person themselves may not necessarily be aware of their own reaction; maybe slightly tearful, maybe sobbing uncontrollably like you've just watched an episode of DIY SOS, maybe cheering, maybe that angry yell of emotional release.....nope......

......I laughed!!

With joy, with amusement, with positivity, with achievement, with relief, with overwhelment (and yes it is a word), with the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Yes, I laughed myself down the mall.....

and......

.....over....

.....the....

....line.