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London
Marathon 2001
22nd April 2001 This year saw 13 Stowmarket Striders
competing in the 21st London Marathon.
On behalf of the runners, thank you to
all those who supported and to Phil for Full results and split
times are available on the London
Marathon website. For Race Reports by:
"Beeep, beeep, beeep" preceded grumbling, swearing and a smack on the alarm clock. 13 Stowmarket Striders woke up to the day they had trained for for the last 4 months. The LONDON MARATHON. Around 6am a small crowd of runners and supporters were picked up at various stops, beginning the very early trip down to Greenwich. Nervous jitter around the bus was accompanied by the beeping of mobile phones wishing fellow runners good luck. After dropping off our runners at Greenwich, the supporters stayed on the bus to be dropped off near the Tower of London. The initial toilet priorities proceeded the disbursing of the group to various points around the route, ready to surprise the unwary Strider. We went to the Highway at about 13.5 mile point and staked our pitch. Having met up with our Serpentine friends we watched the lead wheelchair fly past, followed a little later by the lead woman and a little more later the men. Neither Katy nor I could get over how fast the men went past, hardly enough time to raise the camera for a picture. A while longer we saw Nick who, taken aback with surprise, crossed the road to swipe our hands as he ran past. The runners grew thicker and spotting people became harder, but we managed to surprise a few more Striders. Whether their surprise was not expecting to see us there or Katy's incredibly loud screaming of their name!, I'm not sure? After everyone went through that we expected to see, we crossed the Highway on about 21.5 miles, and repeated the spotting game. We managed to surprise a few more. Richard Fellingham was so grateful he actually stopped, walked over and exhaustedly said "I'm totally f***ed!!". Then carried on without a further word. Having cheered through all the Striders, we walked along the course towards the finish, cheering as we went along. By the time we reached the 25 mile point we had cheered through the Wooden Spoon, Steve Redgrave and his wife, the caterpillar, Wombals, super hero's, children's characters, cars, rhinos and any runner who had a name on their vest. We were feeling tired on our feet. Not 26.2 miles granted, but walking around 6 - 7 miles and standing for 3 - 4 hours had it's toll. It's also hard work trying to spot a few people in a crowd of a thirty thousand. Around 4pm we met up with the others at Cleopatra's Needle, exchanging Marathon post mortem stories and times, we found our bus and were finally taken home back to Stowmarket. Rich & Katy <top>
Well
after finally gaining a place, all the build up, training, dieting, health
concerns, logging runs, choosing kit, selecting charity, hype and advice
from every one who has been there, I got to start my first ever marathon
and a London one at that. Pre
race nerves were not too bad with the atmosphere on the bus being quieter
than I had remembered on previous trips.
We obviously missed George. I
have to say that I was on record as saying “never again” and that was
before I had started. I felt I could get round but was worried about dropping the
clipboard half way. (private
joke) I
handed my kit in to the lorry (blue start) and found my place at the back
of the crowd, gate 7 for a submitted time (estimate) of 4 hours 15
minutes. The only slower gate was 8 with a couple of dozen runners
mostly in fancy dress. It
took 11 minutes to cross the start line and off we went Les and I. I had hoped to meet up with Kirsty and Ellen at the merge at
3 miles but it was quickly confirmed that the likelihood was slim.
Things went great up to the halfway point 2 hours 4 minutes and
thoughts of a sub 4.15 time developing.
However, I was beginning to feel the pressure and suggested Les
went on because he looked stronger, so did the ones in the other lane
going the opposite way. Come
to think of it , so did most people I saw. I
had my first real celebrity experience at the 15 mile drink stop. I grabbed my drink and tried to keep jogging but found a
barrier of 3 or 4 people line abreast walking right in front of me.
Spotting a gap next to one of the big guys, I got my shoulder
through and called out “excuse me please” and eased / pushed through,
50 metres on Les informed me that the big guy was in fact Steve Redgrave.
Anyway he didn’t catch me after that, ‘he may catch the
occasional crab but not this fish’ ! Somewhere
around 16 miles I started to loose the plot and in the next 3 miles Kirsty
and Ellen must have sneeked past. (can’t
say I blame them). The mental
effort then caught up with the physical effort and although I didn’t
feel that I hit the wall, I was definitely bouncing of the sides of it.
Walking for a couple of hundred metres after each water stop and
waiting for the steel band to play the next number, in case I knew it,
didn’t help. Anyway Linda
had promised me a Big Bruno Jellybaby at 23 miles and I focussed on that.
The last 6 miles are a blur, 1 km after someone said only 1 km to
go I saw a sign saying 800 metres. I
finished in 4 hours 29 minutes and 57 seconds on my watch (honest).
I should have raised approximately £750 for the ‘Imperial Cancer
Research Fund’ and made my way to the post race partly.
Expecting to see party hats, balloons, cream cakes, etc.
I was not convinced I could cope with musical chairs.
I was fortunate to have a leg massage by an attractive young lady
(Anne was watching) and although nearly as painful as the marathon but
condensed into 10 minutes I was most grateful, as I knew it was doing me
good. I
have been overwhelmed by the support I have received from everyone,
especially at work. By
the way “Never again”. Grayhame
Fish <top>
Gordon's Glory...? So
Rich and Katy were woken by the alarm!
I bet few of the entrants needed their alarm clock last Sunday.
The coach was very prompt: the Needham contingent filled the few
remaining seats and we were off.
A friendly wave to the Felixstowe coach at Copdock Mill (is that
the first time we’ve led them this year?) and we settled down for the
journey. No George to
entertain us with tales of a hearty marathon breakfast of fried eggs and
bacon – well he always sounded convincing – so we had to rely on
Grayhame for entertainment.
An immaculately planned schedule and an early start from faraway
Stanton dictated that breakfast time coincided with Witham and we all
watched entranced as he poured milk on his muesli and consumed it with
enjoyment. The portable toaster and percolator were absent but we
had plenty more entertainment as he vaselined his feet and donned the
remainder of his running attire.
We understand he’s booked the shower at Thurrock services for
next year but only provisionally – remember Man. Utd. and their Cup
Final hotel! The
next topic of conversation was what to wear.
Choices ranged from a vest to a longed sleeved T-shirt + vest +
Whizz-kids hat (don’t listen to them Antony – it suited you a treat)
and we proceeded to change our minds twenty times as the sun streamed into
the bus. All these
decisions were revised as we left the coach to find a very chilly wind
blowing across Greenwich Park.
The first few miles passed in the usual blur and nervous humour and my first celebrity spot was Frank Bruno at around 6 miles. I then started looking for daughter Philippa strategically positioned at Cutty Sark and even allowed Elvis to gain a few yards on me so he wouldn’t obscure me when the time came. Seeing her energised me and I settled into a steady patch to get back on my 8-minute/mile schedule which had been diverted by the crush over the first couple of miles. Tower Bridge found me giving a cheery wave to the Striders fan club/sweet shop on station at their regular post just before halfway. From
there on it was all downhill! The
pace was beginning to tell and by 15 miles the few seconds I had in hand
had slipped away. I
tried my first taste of Liquid Power to see if it would work miracles (it
didn’t) and little by little – three seconds a mile here, ten seconds
a mile there – I was slowing. The
family/friends fan club had swollen to four by this stage and I was still
able to raise a smile. A
massive yell from Katy and Rich was the next pleasant surprise and I knew
I could finish but the legs were getting heavier and heavier. I’d
rather just forget the last few miles but Big Ben was striking one o’
clock as I passed and I knew the end would come soon.
I finished in 3:35 – a few minutes off target but at least
feeling that I’d given it a good shot and hadn’t got the strategy
wrong. Never again
though... Back
to the coach and the swapping of war stories and showing of blisters.
Kirsty must have won the prize, except there were some who didn’t
even dare to look. Thanks to Phil for his organisation and all the Striders and friends’ support. You really give us a lift, folks, and we feel for those who come and cheer even though they missed out on the ballot or had to withdraw with injuries. Gordon
Slack <top>
No Pain, No GainThere is definitely a love hate relationship developing here. I cannot deny the weeks (even months) of eager anticipation of the looming big day and all the expectations of what was to come, but at the same time there was something inside me pulling me in the other direction. Maybe it was the experience of “hitting the wall” last year as early as around 18 miles, or maybe it was what seemed to be a stream of wombles passing me with one mile to go in that 2000 race, but something wasn’t quite right. For about four days prior to this years’ race my body was desperately trying to convince me that going ahead with the 2001 race was not a wise move at all. My legs were tired; my feet leadweight and my insomnia running riot. Miraculously I woke up (a little too) early on Sunday morning with all such anxieties and pains superseded by a newfound excitement akin to my 5 year old’s waking up to a stocking on Christmas morning. The next thing I knew was that I was standing at the race start with the gun going off. It was not long before I remembered why one half of me was so excited about the day. The crowds of cheering Londoners lining the streets, the live music, the feeling of one crowd & one voice (did anyone else partake in the “Who let the dogs out?” chorus?), the Blue boos when the Red start met up with us after 4 miles, Cutty Sark and the nutters in ridiculous outfits (I liked the couple getting married). It seemed all worthwhile and I couldn’t understand what the problem was. Then came the Isle of Dogs. My legs began to feel weaker. I was soon feeling like the five year old after too much stocking chocolate and unable to manage the Christmas lunch. Nevertheless, I passed 18 miles and I was still running (one up on last year – must be the Jaffa cakes I ate). It got worse, however, and the lack of strength soon turned to pain and grimace. There was a battle going on inside me and if I had any sense I should have pulled out there and then. But there is nothing about the marathon that makes any sense and I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and soldiered on, grabbing any morcel of food thrown at me by the sympathetic crowds. The last four miles seemed like ten, the last 800 metres seemed like someone was havin’ a laugh. Then came the finishing line, the space blanket, the water and the goody bag (incl pesto sauce…hello?). It was all worthwhile in the end. With the joy soon came the pain again. The cramp and jelly-leg syndrome is only now (Tuesday) ebbing away. I have learned to respect the distance, but I know that there still lingers a magnetic desire to go through it all again. Why? I ask myself. The answer, my friends, lies in the deep down urge to defeat the pain with the joy and pride of having won the battle. Thanks for the support, fellow coach travellers. Antony Boyd <top> |