D Day (Part 2)

The mass start really is just that: a mass start. After the starting signal it took me about 20 minutes to get from section No. 8 to the start line behind the gates. But I eventually got there and started the race grinning like the Cheshire cat:

From this point on the runners' individual time is taken by use of a transponder and ChampionChip worn on the runners' shoes (that's what the red rubber carpets are for). The time elapsed is taken at 10k interims ("splits") and at the half-marathon point.

The race itself was incredible. It's a natural high all the way through. The enthusiasm of the spectators is unbelievable. You have to be there to believe it. That huge grin didn't leave my face for a long time:

Well, maybe it sometime was less wide, but I am still smiling here (where ever this was):

After 10k you reach the Cutty Sark, the first highlight of the race. Then after 20k you cross Tower Bridge. It may sound pathetic, but I will never forget that moment and that I was listening to “Natalie” at that point.

On The Highway that leads from The Tower to Canary Warf you can see the fast runners on their way back on the other side of the road. They only have four more miles to go. At the half-way marker I looked at my watch and realised that the winner was probably just about to cross the finish line. Better not think about that for too long. Better not watch the ones coming back on the other side of the road. Run on to the Isle of Dogs and make one large loop around it. Listen to "Keep Going" around mile 21 and do just that: keep going. Then I was the one on the way back! That felt a lot better! There were still runners moving in the direction of the Isle of Dogs. Some were already walking. I saw a bride and groom! And lots of people who looked like they should better drop out or else they'd drop dead soon.

There is no food handed out, only water is offered every mile from mile 3 on and Lucozade (which is called Gatorade here in Germany) more or less every5 miles. I drank a lot of water. And after about 21 miles I got a bit hungry. And then HUNGRY and HUNGRY and finally after 22 miles

HUNGRY!!!

I started to fantasise about the sandwich in my kit bag and the Pink Lady apple in the goodie bag. Then I saw a sign: "Lucozade 500 meters". The final Lucozade point at mile 23 was near. Hallelujah! I don’t like Lucozade, but at that moment it seemed like heaven sent. It would allow me to trick my body into thinking that I had just eaten an orange (it's all in the mind, you know). 500 meters never seemed so long before. I gulped down the drink and instantly felt better.

The last miles of the race are a blur. I remember that “A forest” started on my mp3 as I turned round the corner in front of Big Ben. I wanted to cross the finish line listening to it, but I hadn’t calculated that it would take me so long from the starting signal to the start line. I vaguely remember running along Birdcage Walk towards Buckingham Palace and around the round about in front of it (I must have done, otherwise I would have been disqualified). Then you are on the final 200 meters of the course and this is what you look like when you have got that far (the Cheshire cat was back):

Across the finish line, happy to be still alive.

Amazed by the time. My watch said 4h 26min. Amazed too by the perfect organisation that embraced me: cross the finish line, receive a medal, move up a little ramp, have the championchip removed, move along to receive the goodie bag and further on to recover you kit bag. One constant stream of happy people. All made possible by the work of countless volunteer helpers.

I grapped the goodie bag, found the apple, wolfed it down. Bliss! In the repatriation area for overseas runners I met up with others of the group that had already arrived. Uli was still there, he had run in 3:40 (goal: 3:40 – precision landing, mate). Some of the guys were drinking beer to celebrate. Just the thought made me dizzy. I changed into warm clothes and made my way back to the hotel on the underground.

I had a shower and collapsed onto the bed. I managed to make a couple of phone calls and sent some emails and text message. (But only because this can be done without using legs or feet!) Then I lay on the bed and watched Carry on Dick on the telly. I love Kenneth Williams (I am still reading his diary) and Sid James was ace too. Carry on Dick is not my favourite in the series (that's Carry on Matron), but it was perfect to wind down and it doesn't require you to think. My mind was still overloaded. I needed simple distraction.

In the evening Interair had invited us all to an "after marathon" party at a pub. There weren't enough chairs for all of us, so I - being Ms Stupid - sat down on the floor. The second my bum hit the floor, I knew it would be a nightmare to get up again. I had one pint of Guinness and my head started spinning.

Since I did not get to listen to Brittlestar during the race (because I was too fast!!! the album is called Waiting, so it's the last on my mp3 which sorts in alphabtectical order), I wore my Brittlestar t-shirt to the party to make up for it:

Now I will leave you with a picture of Uli (aka Mr London Marathon 2006) and myself (aka Miss London Marathon 2006) auditioning for a tooth paste commercial

and some wise words by Chris Brasher (co-founder of the London Marathon):

"A pointless but wonderful victory over mental doubt and bodily frailty".

I DID IT!!!