You’ve woken up before the birds are singing, forced down your porridge and peanut butter bagels and your kit bag is packed.
You’ve made it to the start line with all the other thousands of runners. You’ve dropped your bag off and make your way to your pen. You look around. You can’t see where the river of coloured vests starts or where it ends.
You join in the warm up where you’d usually be feeling daft but today there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing.
Gun time is approaching and before you know it, everyone’s roaring. It’s started.
15 minutes after the first people begun, you can see the start line getting closer. It’s time.
The first few miles pass in a blur whilst you’re getting used to hundreds of strangers shouting your name.
You’ve high fived every person who held their hand out, graciously taken jelly babies from kids, homemade flapjack a local resident has made and popped in a tin but politely declined the slice of Dominos that the students kindly offered you.
You reach Tower Bridge and shed a little tear as the crowds get bigger and you realise that you’re doing it. You’re running the London Marathon.
You get to mile 18 and get over taken buy a guy with a washing machine on his back but manage to get passed the girl dressed as a tree. ‘You win some you lose some’, you think.
It’s then when you think about the people running it. The names on the vests and all the stories behind them. The money being raised for so many incredible causes. That gives you another ounce of determination you need.
Mile 22 approaches and you see your loved ones. Your mums shouting your name and you think you see a tear on your dads face. You dedicate the next mile to them.
You reach mile 24 and can feel yourself hitting a wall.
“Come on! You’re doing so well! Not far to go now!”
Those few words from a kind stranger were all you needed to regain your focus.
Then you see Westminster and know you’re almost there. You may be exhausted, but you feel your speed begin to pick up.
Before you know it, you’re by St James’ Park and then Buckingham Palace. The crowds are cheering as loud for you as they did for the elites. You turn the corner, head down The Mall and cross the finish line.
You throw your arms in the air – you’re happy, you’re excited and you’re a bit sad it’s over. You’ve done it. You’ve completed the London Marathon. Now when do you sign up for next years?!
