So, we were here. I had a gin and tonic, Zoe arrived, we went out to a little Italian restaurant in Battersea. I ordered pizza, she had pasta. We were nervous and grumpy and preoccupied.
Back to the hotel. I faffed about downloading songs onto my iPhone and trying to get them from iTunes to my MP3 player. Zoe had a bath. I went to bed around 11.30.
Unfortunately I then got out of bed around 11.45. And 12.30. And 1.30. And 2.30, 3, and 3.30. For a couple of days before I’d had a bit of a headache and felt a bit wobbly, but I’d put it down to nerves and excitement. Suffice to say I spent the whole night on the loo, which wasn’t exactly the best way to prepare for 26.2 miles of running.
The hotel had put on a marathon breakfast, and along with about 10 others we stuffed down porridge, toast and a banana. I was retching whilst I ate it (sorry that may be too much information) but I knew I had to have something to eat.
London was full of people carrying red marathon kitbags, and after all our worrying about how to get to the start we didn’t have to think at all. We just followed the rest of the kitbag holders like sheep in trainers.
On the train we got talking to some seasoned marathoners. They pointed out the 25 mile marker and Big Ben, and I said ooh, not long till we’re back there. They all looked at each other knowingly. I recognised that look – it’s the look you get when you tell a mother your birthplan before you have your first child. The look says ‘come back to me once you’ve done it and then we’ll talk’.
We left the train station and flocked to the start. There were marshalls everywhere, directing us and wishing us luck. Everyone was very jolly and excited, and being British there was much talk about the weather. We’d been promised the hottest marathon on record, and it looked like rain.
Sure enough as soon as we got to the start, it started to pour. We ran over and put our bags on the baggage bus, then queued for the loo. I was so excited and nervous that I hadn’t time to think about how I was feeling, and I was trying to find my lovely Twitter friend Donna who was borrowing an iPhone armband from me.
Then the klaxon sounded and the race had started.
The pen system seemed to have gone a bit wonky – we were meant to be pen 9, and Donna was pen 8, but they seemed to be letting people in through gaps in the barriers. We decided to tuck ourselves in somewhere around the back, and didn’t go through the start gate until 10.10am (mistake no.1).
- To read part 2, go here.