In April 2004 we ran the 2004 Flora London Marathon to rise money for the Multiple Sclerosis Resource Centre (MSRC). This is what happened on the day.

We began the day at 06:15 with toast, honey, tea and energy drink. We’d prepared everything the night before so after breakfast we made for the station, driven by Karen, who later told us that we were all getting very psyched up, even though none of us noticed it at the time.

Approaching Greenwich on marathon day is an interesting experience. The train stations are packed with people in lycra and binbags, all carrying identical sacks of belongings. When the train pulls in, it is nearly full of people who are identically dressed to those on the platform. It is mildly spooky, like an independent movie describing a near future where clothing fashions have shifted but everything else remains.

Milling around before the start is a heady combination of making sure you’ve had a wee, had your energy drink, and got your sack of warm dry clothes onto the right baggage bus so they’re waiting for you at the finish. We milled, found Sam through the magic of SMS and then very quickly it was time for the off, and we were nowhere near the start.

We avoided the temptation to run there. In fact, as the countdown to the gun began we still weren’t in the queue. We knew not to worry: the gun went off and nobody moved. It was several minutes before anybody did, so we took our places among the huddle of expectant runners.

I use the term runners loosely, were were in pen number 9, with the pieces of fruit, bottles of whiskey and other charity nutcases. Pen 9 was near the back so it took us (approximately) 17 minutes and 35 seconds to get to the start line.

The first mile was a doddle. So much so that we didn’t even notice a mile marker; maybe there wasn’t one. This meant that after quite a few minutes of jogging and chatting it turned out we were over 2 1/2 miles in – we’d done 10% and hardly noticed it.

As the early miles rolled by the spectators made themselves obvious with whistles, bells, clackers, shouts, loud music and occasional orchestral instruments. These miles are run through a suburban area so most people were out in their gardens with neighbours and friends.

The Cutty Sark, between miles 6 and 7 seemed to arrive very quickly. It was probably an hour and a half after the gun, but it seemed like only a few minutes. We’d taken the start really easily, and managed to avoid the common mistake of going off too quickly, so finding ourselves rounding the ship’s bow was pleasantly surprising. This was also the point when it really started to seem real because it’s the first part of the course that I recognised from previous TV broadcasts.

After this, the going didn’t get tough, but it did get slow; the next few miles seemed to last a very long time. They didn’t hurt, they just seemed to pass slowly. Steve mentioned that he’d "forgotten about this part of the map" as we went round Rotherhithe and out towards Bermondsey. Oddly, as we ran through this area we saw Geth & Ali & Alice by the side of the road, distinctly not in a pub. I don’t understand this.

This took us round to mile 11 where Em started to get very tired. Em had run 18 miles in training several times, so running out of puff this early was not expected.

Shortly after mile 12 we turned sharp right and found Tower Bridge before us, which we walked over whilst helping Em demolish a packet of Jelly Babies. These were vital, and brought Em out of the energy lull, and by mile 14 she was looking normal again.

We passed and saw Dave and Clive from Portsmouth Joggers who were on the side shouting and distributing Chocolate Digestives which I needed, I had lots of energy, but was suddenly really hungry (thanks Clive).

This is around the point where the path overlaps itself so the slow and fast runners are side by side running in opposite directions; the fast runners already six miles ahead flying towards the homeward stretch. This is the first blatant clue to the size and diversity of the race and it’s runners.

As we entered Docklands at 16 miles we started to feel quite good about the whole thing. After Em’s lull four miles back we’d kept up a good steady pace and were undeniably well over half way through, even if there was still 10 miles to go. We’d done 10 miles in training, so of course we could do 10 miles now.

Passing through Canary Wharf we again saw Ali & Geth, and Alice, and now an Ian too. Quite surreal that they were still not in a pub.

Shortly after the mile 18 marker we turned right, signaling that we were at the southern most point of the Isle of Dogs. At this point a spectator commented to me "bloody hell mate you look fresh as a daisy", which had a very positive effect on my mental well being. So whoever that was, thanks.

Coming off the Isle of dogs, after mile 20 we were amazed that on the other side of the road, six miles back, there were still many runners. Blatant clue #2 to the size of the London Marathon.

The cobbles along St. Katharines Way are famous among the marathon commentators who spout all sorts of platitudes to the runners who "suffer" the harsh underfoot conditions. In reality the cobbles are a bit slippy, but not really difficult at all.

Oddly just before the cobbles I’d turned around and run back about 50 yards to see Sam and Emma2 (Clive’s Emma) who were running a little behind us – Steve couldn’t stop running because if he did, his Ankle would seize up, so I nipped back to pass on the message. Having done this I pegged it forward again to catch Em back up, so I actually ran faster on the cobbles than anywhere else. The crowds seemed to like this and shouted lots, both when I was going the wrong way and then getting back. This as the only time that my lungs were stretched – if you take it easy as we did, the marathon is all about being able to keep going as your energy drains away, rather than respiratory efficiency or explosive leg speed.

As we arrived on Embankment we were all feeling good, and running faster than most, if not all around us. We’d taken it easily at the start, paced ourselves well, and were finishing strongly. The crowd has been plentiful and vocal all the way along the route, but now, as they converged on the mall with us (through the joys of the tube system) the spectators were significantly out numbering runners, and the general level of noise and spectacle rose accordingly. As we approached the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben chimed three.

Minutes later we were turning the penultimate corner right underneath the clock tower. We found Karen, and Ali and Geth and Alice and John and Caryl all of whom were stood within 100 yards of each other so we stopped to say hello, and waited a while in the hope that Sam could catch us up, alas the cold and the rain which was starting to fall again forced us to keep going after about 5 minutes of bimbling.

The Queen wasn’t home, which was a shame, I’m sure the whole family would have enjoyed the spectacle, maybe her highness will read this and think it’s worth staying in for next year.

As we approached and then crossed the line it all seemed a bit surreal. They cut our timing tags off our shoes, and placed our medals over our heads – in previous races we’ve done the medal has been casually included in a plastic goody-bag, this way was a little more fitting of the occasion.

Then the heavens opened, and an almighty downpour did hit London.

We headed for the MSRC after-party which was in the nearby offices of The Economist. The welcome was electrifying. Never before has my arrival been announced to a room, which in itself is strange, then the room erupted into a wall of noise. This was a surreal experience which affirmed and finalised what we’d just done, a rubber stamp for the mind, going through the finish line will fade as a memory, but the MSRC welcome will remain vivid in my dotage. Here were 100+ people making a lot of noise; other runners, their families, MSRC staff, physio’s, all kinds of folk making a din, for us. Subsequently we added our noise as later runners arrived, which was fun.

There was food, there was tea, there was a hot, powerful shower, and most importantly there was Penny the Physio who saw to it that I remained mobile.

Most people ask about post marathon pain. there wasn’t much, a bit of stiffness, a feeling of seizure in the knees similar to what I was feeling after running 8 miles miles back in January, but apart from that, we seem to have spread the pain out over the training in small measures, so that the day really was a pain free and enjoyable experience.

The answer to the second question is yes, I would do it again.

More pictures from the day are available here.

Multiple Sclerosis Resource Centre (MSRC)

We raised money for for the MSRC with an initial target of �1000 each. The team target was therefore �3000 between me, my other half (Emma) and her brother Steve. Em’s dad, John, was diagnosed with MS ten years ago (marathon day is almost the exact 10th anniversary). Since then we have learned of the unpredictable, frustrating and debilitating nature of MS, not only through John, but also through the other people with MS that we have had contact with.

MS is a neurological condition where the insulating membrane surrounding the nerves is broken down, disrupting the messages sent around the body by the nervous system. This means that the symptoms of MS are varied and changeable, meaning life for those affected by MS can be unpredictable. MS can affect anyone of any age – the mean age range for diagnosis is 29 to 33.The MSRC provides support for those with MS, their families, friends and colleagues. It does an amazing amount of work which your sponsorship can further.

The online sponsorship form has now closed. if you would like to make a donation please give directly to the MSRC via their website.