Breaking Three Hours for The London Marathon by Bryan Burnett
One of the best days I have ever had? Well, it must be as that’s what I’ve written in my diary for that date. When I read over my entry for that day I can tell how excited I was to achieve my target as I have written: “Finished 800th out of 32,500 people.” with a smiley face next to it. I never do smileys. :(
When you run a marathon it’s never just about the day itself. It’s about the months of training in the cold and the wet. It’s about the time you devote to the long, long Saturday morning runs and then the hours that you spend in a hot bath trying to soothe your tired legs.
Marathon day starts at around 6am. I wake up and then go for breakfast. Over the past few days I haven’t eaten for pleasure. It’s just carbs. Fuel for your engine. I have my porridge, but not proper porridge like we would have at home but wishy - washy hotel stuff that looks battleship gray in colour. I have a banana and honey in it because that’s what Paula does.
Paula, who later that day goes on to set a new women’s world record. If you’re a marathon runner, then she’s like Kylie or Madonna - no surname required.
My kit has been neatly laid out on the bed since Saturday teatime which makes our hotel room look like squaddies barracks. I still check and double check I haven’t forgotten anything and head for the train.
London on marathon day looks like a science fiction movie. It’s like the inhabitants of the world have been wiped out and replaced by a new breed of skinny androids in tights. Looking around, I think I see pals from my running club, but it’s just that we all look the same. It’s an incredible feeling to think that everyone around you on the streets of London is there for the same thing you are. They’ve all gone through the highs and the lows and today we are all as nervous as each other.
We head for Greenwich. The smell in the air is tiger balm and the talk on the train is of last minute niggles, the weather and how unfit we all are. Nobody dares say how good they are feeling.
As we walk towards the start area at Blackheath I start to hear the buzz from about half a mile away. It’s like going to Hampden on cup final day - the difference being that here you’re actually playing in the match.
The gun goes and 32 thousand people are on the move. The initial waves of excitement and weepiness give way to fear and nervousness. “I am so well prepared for this,” I keep telling myself.
The first bit of the race goes by in a blur as I find my feet, whizz round Cutty Sark and get the boost from the amazing crowds that line that part of the route.
Between 11 and 12 miles I get my first support from JB, who will spend the day tearing around London on the tube getting to three different parts of the race. It means everything to me.
The best bit of the race is Tower Bridge at halfway. My mate Stewart told me about this. I empty my head of split times and mile paces and just enjoy the moment. The crowds are three deep and all of them seem to be cheering just for me. For a second I look down at my feet which seem to be leaping along with an energy and vigour that wasn’t there five minutes ago. The sheer excitement seems to be carrying me along without any discernible effort on my part.
The real halfway point in a marathon is at 20 miles. You can only train to run 20 miles. Importantly you can only take on enough fuel to last till then. This is what they call hitting the wall. You simply run out of energy.
I knock back pouches of Lucozade Sport, the sickly sweet energy drink. I can’t get it in fast enough and a stream of bright orange fluid runs down my chin. The ground is sticky where those who got here before me had previously dribbled.
I get a real boost when I spot my pals Sarah and James in the crowd. James is very tall and I can see him towering above everyone else. He’s got a good loud voice - a posh Hugh Laurie type of voice – and people turn round when he bellows out his encouragement. I get a huge lift and power on to the end.
The final few miles of a marathon feel like…well a marathon I suppose. I am slowing down and want to walk, but every time I falter someone in the crowd catches sight of the name on my vest and bawls out, “C’mon Bryan”. Each time it happens I think I’m going to cry - and once or twice I do.
The Houses of Parliament are in sight and it’s a great feeling. I know it’s just around the corner to Birdcage Walk and the finish. This bit of the race is like being Bruce Springsteen playing a stadium gig. All you can hear is thousands of people shouting your name and cheering you on. The wall of noise is helping take my mind off my tight hamstrings and the pain in my legs. I am constantly checking my watch trying to calculate how long it will take me to make it along the last 800 metres. I give up and cross my fingers hoping for the best.
This is one of the world’s greatest cities and as I turn right at Buckingham Palace and cruise down the Mall I wonder if this is the best marathon finish anywhere in the world. It is for me today. I stop my watch. 2:58:53.
There have been other marathons since then – some faster, some slower. Only 1% of the population has run a marathon and less than 2% of them have run under 3 hours. I’ll never forget the day I joined the club.
Bryan Burnett presents Get it On and Brand New Country on BBC Radio Scotland
