Rachel writes:

I have grown up surrounded by running, watching mom and dad compete and win various prizes. A few years ago, within the space of 6 months I saw dad run 2 quite different marathons, the second being my first experience of London. The feeling I had at these events can not be described in one word. I had witnessed months of hard training. Commitment, determination, setbacks, sacrifices, they all boil down to that feeling of elation when you achieve the ultimate goal. Deep down I knew then that one day I would run a marathon.  

The Training

My training did not go well, it became apparent pretty early on that the time I really wanted would not be achievable. I had the flu, I had injuries, I had runs when my legs just would not move. No, this wasn’t occasionally, this was every single run for weeks, yet strangely my commitment and enthusiasm did not falter. There were tears of frustration, of anger, of disappointment. I was doing the training and yet running slower than I have ever done, even my now ‘acceptable’ time was moving further away as I struggled through a 30K, pulled out of one 20 miler and crawled through another. Two weeks ago I was undecided as whether to run, my acceptable time was disappearing and it now became a case of ‘deal with it, get around and enjoy the day’.  

Race Day

I woke up expecting to feel excitement, nerves, anything that reflected what I was about to do. Instead I felt extremely full and my first thought of the day was how I was going to manage to get breakfast into me! I met Kat and Mark outside my hotel and we walked to the start together. If like me, your not one to talk at races, I would strongly suggest avoiding being around Mark and Kat! I left them and stood alone in my pen, wanting to get going, the nerves had kicked in. I was rather controlled, wanting to go faster, my pace felt so slow but I knew the training wasn’t there to push on.  The first 6 miles flew by, I was relaxed and happy, the heavens opened about 8/9 miles and we got drenched, my feet were well and truly soaked by 11 and I just got my head down and ran, rather strangely the miles came quite quickly even though my pace only changed fractionally. I knew that if I could keep this up, and perhaps only suffered the last 2/3 miles I should be able to do a time I could be content with. At 13 ½, the top of my left hamstring pulled, I spent the best part of ¾ mile debating what I should do. My running had deteriorated but I was scared of making a decision that there would be no turning back from. It was now or never, make the call… I decided to run 5 minutes, walk 1 minute, it was an idea that me and mom had discussed previously, although at the time had dismissed. Miles 15 to 19/20 were awful, I stuck religiously to my run/walk plan. Even though my support team saw me twice within these 5 miles, they always seemed to catch me on a ‘run’ section. I started running again at 20, felt ok, and made the decision to forget walking, this was only enhanced by the heavy rain and hail showers that followed for the next 5 miles! I took on liquid at 24 and went to start running again, I put my left leg on the ground and pulled up quickly in pain, I staggered along for about 100m clutching my bum. Just to prove that rational thought does not occur when running marathons, for a split second I thought that if I just stopped under that tunnel everything would be ok and someone would come rescue me and then I would be fine! Reality hit… There was no way I was walking the last 2 miles, I was so close, I tentatively tried to move and somehow found myself with 600m to go. Then that was it, it was all over, just like that. I have no idea what I was expecting, some feeling of achievement or satisfaction, but I didn’t have any of that. Instead I had a time of 4 hours 54, not exactly what I was expecting and needless to say I’m not very impressed! Nevertheless, I shall deal with it, I got around, and the main thing, I actually enjoyed my day!  

I had entered this marathon wanting to experience the rollercoaster of emotions, the disappointment, despair, contentment, achievement, pain, satisfaction, happiness, pride. Now I realise the true extent of these emotions, and no doubt there are still more to come as I slowly return to normal, to reality, without any more marathon training!  

Well done to all the BVH runners. Thanks to everyone who was there to support, and to the complete strangers that plied me with jelly babies and encouragement!

Kat writes:

A 7am start saw myself and Fran reach Blackheath by 8am, which was bathed in sunshine, to meet up with Mark and Rachel. They always say you should try out your race day outfit prior to the day, but that doesn't appear to include Mark who turned up sporting a very fetching pink tutu which he was wearing for the first time. Well at least it would be hard to lose him in the crowd - or so I thought!

The race plan was quite simple - Mark was going to pace me/ talk at me for just under 4 hours and we'd run a nice steady pace. However I think the 4 cups of coffee he'd had before the race, coupled with adrenaline, may have fueled alternative race plans - i.e run it hard.

The race start was a rather low-key affair and before I knew it we were off with the masses heading out along shooters hill road. The first mile was predictably congested but not as bad as I'd experienced 2 years ago. By mile 2 we'd passed Floella Benjamin, a group of firemen running in full gear and lots of 'Dave's and were back on target, and by mile 3 we were already ahead of schedule. Miles 4 and 5 flew by and before I knew it we were whizzing past the Massai warriers and waving to Sue and her support crew at mile 6. The alarm bells should have rang as we went through mile 7 in something like 7.30 pace, so by mile 9 my body was starting to warn me to slow down and just after the 10 mile marker Mr Lynock's head was rapidly disappearing into the sea of bobbing heads in front of me. Right, time for Plan B!

Plan B had originally been just to find someone to befriend for however many remaining miles, however I was still going too fast to be able to maintain any sort of conversation, so plan B now became 'enjoy it' - which i did (until about mile 24). The weather was pretty warm from the start until the heavens opened just before I reached tower bridge. At first it provided welcome refreshment but when it was still raining heavily at 16 miles it was beyond refreshment and large pools of water had started to gather on the course. Despite this I knew I was feeling so much better than i had done last time around and also knew that I would have dips along the way so made sure that when i was feeling good I kept pushing on.

Was starting to feel rather wobbly through 18 miles but then seeing Fran gave me the extra boost I needed. By mile 22 I was still on course for a sub 4 finish, but the last 4 miles were tough. With 2 miles to go I had 20 minutes to do it in - should be straight forward on any normal day but your body just doesn't behave after 24 miles of running. If the marathon had finished at the point it was originally intended then I might just cheering a sub 4 time, but since some fools had to add on the extra 0.2 then i had to be content with 4:00:55. Am I happy with it? Well when you knock 17 mins off your pb its hard not to be - and more importantly I wasn't beaten by any large costumes this time. Am I frustrated at not managing sub-4? If I'm honest the answer is yes, but I know that on this particular day I couldn't have done any more. I think the concerned look on the St John's Ambulance man at the finish probably spoke volumes.

I know that everyone always harps on about the London Marathon but today reminded me quite why it is so special - the crowd are absolutely brilliant, they pull you all the way along from beginning to end. Despite the weather they were out in force, much more so that 2 years ago. Plus the sights and people you meet along the way are inspiring and entertaining...its hard not to run with a smile on your face - until it turns into a grimace! 

Well done to everyone from Bournville on some superb times - and a big thank you to the Sunday morning running group for keeping me on track with my training. Although I'm now tired, aching and have a nice selection of black toenails I'd highly recommend London to anyone who's thinking of doing a marathon. I said before the start that this was my last marathon - and it is, at least for a long while. Maybe one day I'll return to break 4 hours, maybe  :)

Dave Harte's report can be found on his blog here.  You can also read his minute-by-minute twitter posts here.  Fran's photos of Kat & Mark here.