A few months back that magical time of year had arrived once
again and I was on the start line for
London Marathon 2012. There is something monumentally different about starting
a run from your house and starting a race in the glorious capital and one of
the world leading routes. The thought of it still gives me goose bumps, still
excites me and makes me smile.
Each April thousands of runners and supporters head to
London to either run, walk, scream, chant and support each other. It’s a day
you never forget. It’s a day when memories are made. It’s a day that for us runners we have been training months
for. No more winter runs. One early alarm. One pair of trainers. One running
number. One own self will to get round that route.
This was my second marathon and my most proudest run to date.
Past year I’ve battled depression in its ugliest form. I didn’t think I would
make it to the start line. Didn’t think I’d complete any sort of training. Didn’t
think I had it in me to complete 26.2 miles. Of course the stubborn part of me
and the part that doesn’t want to admit to others that I wont do it crossed my
mind and thus didn’t tell others how i really felt. I’m a testament to those in
similar situations that no matter what you’re going through, you can still
achieve something. Can still make yourself proud. Can still prove those
negative thoughts wrong.
I’m not going to lie, it was hard. There were days, weeks
where I didn’t run. The one aspect of my training that didn’t falter; my
friends constantly checking on me and asking for updates. The longest I had run
was 10miles. Longest I had covered was 13.1miles (Silverstone half). That sunny
day in April was to be the longest run/walk I was to complete. You can do all
the training in the world and still have a bad race. I didn’t do much training
but I had a great race. I was sensible and broke up the miles. Run for 5miles
and walk for 2miles. That later got amended and dragged out longer.
Highlight of the run was meeting Denise Lewis, chatting to
her (with a camera and mic in my face) and having a photo with her. After that
wonderful chance meeting (albeit I did scour for her on the bridge), I twisted
my ankle and later found it to be swollen and bruised. I was aware of the twist
but I kept on going. I kept on moving. I kept heading for that finish. I wasn’t
going to let myself down and stop. There are always going to be obstacles in
the way of completing/achieving things in life. If we cant jump over them, we
find a way to go round them. Often so many people look at the closed door that
they fail to see the open window. My closed door was that I was not able to run
anymore. But my window was I could still power walk. I was surprised by my dad
and youngest sister on mile 26 and boy did that bring a smile to my face.
Crossing that finish is a memory etched forever in my soul.
Everything over the past winter months had accumulated in that one moment.
Underneath the Timex clock. Standing on the red carpet. Posing for the cameras.
History. Achievement. Courage. Strength.
That was me in the finish photo. That was all me that completed
26.2 miles. That was me that pulled off the unthinkable, the unimaginable. Me.
No one can take this away from me. Not even my own demons. My medal serves as a constant reminder that we all that warrior in us. We all have that will power and determination in us. We all can achieve what we set out to. In the process we learn more about ourselves, lets others in and learn that things do work out ok.
Some photos of mine from the day.
