What's Pink and Hard?

...a jelly bean!

I have to say that after a few months of being remarkably disinterested in FLM this year, getting ready to go I was all a-quiver! The journey up was a nightmare, as the railway peeps seemed to have picked one of the busiest Sundays of the year (around 1 million spectators) to do repairs and shut down half the lines into London, the Northern line, and half of the DLR. Tragic really, as it meant that many people trying to get to the start near Greenwich were stuck north of the river, and ended up running the couple of miles to the start – not the best preparation!

Anyway – I eventually arrived at the station before Mudchute (the train didn’t go all the way) and walked down the mara route to the RW supporters’ point. All the memories (and goosebumps) came back as I passed under the 17 mile arch. “Next year”, I told myself.

Then down to meet Moo, Plummie and various others who were busy setting up, and I set to work helping Plummie with the balloons. In spite of the heat there was quite a strong wind, and we had to use masses of gaffer tape to stop the balloons blowing across the course. More people turned up, along with masses of jelly babies, bananas, oranges, jaffa cakes, plus all sorts of other goodies for the runners.

Then the giant 26 mile long carnival arrived – first the wheelies (well done to Shelly Woods!) and then the elite women. I couldn’t help but think how much faster Paula looked when I saw her go past in 2002. The elite men went past in a group of about eight, and looked considerably faster. Then onto the fast club runners. It’s all a bit bland at this point, because you don’t get the real human interest stories until the “ordinary” runners turn up. We saw our first costumed runner (an Elvis), at about a 3 hour equivalent, and then a few pirates – Cougie, CRAB (I think), and shortly after the bright raspberry hair of LP! All were welcomed with massive cheers and waved jaffa cakes.

I really can’t remember the precise order of everyone who turned up, but one by one they came to hugs, cheers, and more waved food items. Great to see everyone again, pretty much without exception suffering in the heat and behind their target, although Wumbly seemed quite happy to just be getting round (and impatient for the report :-P ).

Then finally the numbers started to thin, and it was time to get extra loud. A lot of people had started to leave the side of the road, and I imagine there’s nothing worse than feeling you’ve still got nine miles to go and yet everyone’s heading home. Lots more immense gratitude for a sticky jaffa cake (they were melting in the heat), and a few people in outlandish costumes. One person particularly stuck in my mind – she was looking okay physically but saw us and burst into tears. While I’ve never quite been at that stage at mile 17, I can in many ways identify – it’s a weird mix of emotions, particularly in the heat and if it’s your first time, and the wave of emotion generated can be overwhelming. Anyway – she saw us as friendly souls, Heebs gave her a massive hug while I gave her a pep talk about how incredible the crowds were in the last few miles, to take it one mile at a time, and to remember that the pain is short lived while the memories of the day when it’s all over and you have the medal will last a life time. I was getting quite choked up saying it, but the unknown soul headed off, not exactly with a spring in her step, but she started running again. I watched her as she disappeared round the bend, to vanish as quickly as she came, and yet somehow I felt an amazing connection. For me it summed up the marathon. If you’ve done it you have an immediate bond with anyone else doing it. If, by some small chance you’re reading this and that was you, let me know you got the medal :o)

A bit more of a wait, and then the girls of St Trinian’s form 3B turned up – KKD, ST and Ginger Loon, all looking happy as anything even though they were pretty near the back. They were obviously having a ball, and by the look of the pics, continued to do so. Just a shame that Arty had to drop out.

A bit more of a wait, and then we headed to the pub. Great to see everyone at the finish, but not quite as good as the usual place as we were a bit spread out. Very cheap rounds though – how can pubs charge £3 for lager when in this pub it was under £2?? It was a nice place too, not a dive at all. New social location anyone?

And then, after a few pints, I headed home. I’d started the day in two minds about the day – I really haven’t got into FLM mood this year, and yet it was such a great day. It brought back all the fantastic memories of previous years, and of course all 36,000 runners will have their own amazing stories to tell. And that, in a nutshell, is what makes FLM great. It’s a 26 mile long carnival, it’s a day when London lets down its hair and drops the unfriendly façade and parties. But above all it’s made up of individuals – each with their own goals, each with their own mountains to climb, and each with their own personal victory. It rocks!!