I ran a marathon, but went on a journey.

This will be slightly different to other postings, rather than just having my thoughts, I thought I'd talk you through the whole day.

As much of it as I can remember anyway, because it's a bit of a blur really.

Obviously my thoughts are still in here though.

In the week leading up to the race I found myself on a emotional rollercoaster, one minute I felt confident and happy that I was ready to run, the next minute I was completely convinced that I was going to fail and end up running it in about 6 hours. Especially after I read something in the marathon guide thing that said,

"if people are packing things away around you, you need to get onto the pavement as you are no longer a priority and the roads will not be closed for you"

Brilliant.

I'd carb loaded for 3 days but felt slightly sluggish with it, so I eased off a little on Saturday night and only ate a small bowl of pasta. Then got into bed at 9:30pm, watched 2 episodes of Seinfeld, then fell asleep. I woke up 5 mins before my alarm at 6:25am. A perfect nights sleep. I took it as a good omen, got showered and headed out. Commix fabric mix was the perfect start as I wandered out of the house.

As soon as I get to the bus stop there's 2 people with marathon bags and running gear waiting for the 14grime to arrive. They both look fitter and better prepared than me, and one of them was a woman in her 50s. The mind games had started. The bus is full of runners, bar this one stinking geezer with a can of Super Tennents, he looks quite confused that there's so many people on his bus so early in the morning, and even more surprised that they're not all drinking beers.

I get to London bridge and there's thousands of people in sportswear trying to find the train to Blackheath, this sea of people triggers a realization in me that I'm running a marathon with 36,000 thousand people, and it's a massive deal. I then started bricking it. bricking it.

I get to the start and I've gone to the wrong start point, I should be in red, I thought I was in blue. I wander over and it starts raining. I've never been happier to be rained on than I am right this second. You spend 6 months training in the freezing cold and rain, then you get told it's going to be really hot the day you run. It's the cruelest joke. But rain it did and there was much rejoicing.

I get the Body Glide out and go mad with it. I cover myself in it, nipples, chest, shoulders, and my entire groin area. front and back. Now there's no dignity in doing this in the middle of a field, in the rain, surrounded by people but the alternative is much much worse. I dump my bag in the massive lorries they have for the bags and start warming up. Then the adrenaline starts and turns my bladder into a hose, instead of a bag. I need to wee. I get into the toilets and they're like at festivals, rows of stand up urinals, shaped like giant buckets, except at this festival nobodies pissing in the corners, and trying to sell you crushed up aspirin as mdma.

There's a man dressed as a cornetto in there, and someone behind me starts singing the song, so we all do, and there's a rousing chorus at the end. it'll be the last time I laugh or smile for a long while.

I start warming up and listening to Mark Farina's Fabric mix, it's perfect tempo and is calming me right down from the panic attacks that grow inside me as it gets to 9:30am. I need to pee again and run in to the urinals, the mood's changed, nobody's singing now, everyone looks scared or focused. Apart from the guy dressed like a smurf. He seems quite chipper, but that could have just been his hat.

I'm starting in pack 2 of 9, 9 being the slowest and fancy dressed, so I'm right in the front, we all stand in our packs, like the guys in the boats in saving private ryan, minus the vomiting and wetting ourselves, even though I feel like doing both. Then, I need the toilet again, I push my way through everyone and the marshal says,

"where are you going, you're about to start!"

I run back to the loo's then back into my pack, as soon as I get in we're moved forward and round the corner, and I can see the start. I look around, and everyone looks like they're from a running club, with clubs names on the back. I feel as inadequate as I usually do when I'm about to have sex with somebody new. Then before I can stop thinking about the last sexual failure I experienced there's a count down and we're off.

We break away and everyone's at a similar pace, I spy a stunning, tall, blonde, woman and decide that I'm going to keep next to her, in the hope that staring at her bottom for a hour will make the miles fly pass, but as soon as there's some space she speeds off at a pace that I know is much faster than I can cope with, so I settle for keeping pace with scary clown guy who was in front of me at the start line. The road opens up and we all settle into our own pace, I close my eyes and remember the pace and rhythm that I've run for the last 5 months and I try not to let the crowds and the cheering speed me up.

Now scary clown guy is really opening up, and his make up has started running down his face, making him even more scary, but I sit in just behind him and carry on. About 3 miles in I need another wee! I can't believe it and am furious with my bladder for letting me down like this, it doesn't help when I see other runners pissing in peoples gardens and behind cars. So at the next set of toilets I stopped and jumped in. Now I'm not sure if it was going from running to stopping suddenly, or the chemicals in the toilet but as I stood there weeing my vision went, and everything went numb and I knew I was going to faint. I tried for as long as I could to wee, holding myself up on either wall, but I knew I had to get out, so I fell out without giving the little fella a shake, for the girls, the shake is essential otherwise a lot will fall out, which is what happened to me, I fell out of the toilet with pee running down my leg. I breathed as deeply as I could and set off again.

Scary Clown Guy had long gone so now I'm all alone, but I've switched to a Luciano mix, a training favorite, and we then join with the blue starters, and there's applause and cheers. It feels great, like we're all in it together and looking out for one another.

Miles 1 -8 felt really good and all I remember thinking is how settled I feel, like I could do this all day, I keep an eye on my stopwatch, trying to work out how many minutes per mile I'm running. It's around 7 minutes per mile and I pick up the speed for a mile or two, making some time up. I was taking on water at every station, drinking about half a bottle before throwing it away. same goes for the lucozade drinks. There's steel bands and sound systems around Greenwich and Lewisham, with pubs full of people applauding, I think I saw a pub full of people dressed as pirates! But I could have been tripping.

Now I knew that getting to Tower Bridge would mean that I was at 12 miles so when I turned a corner and saw it I felt powerful, my legs felt good, and my breathing steady. Suddenly I noticed the people. There's thousands of people lining the bridge, hanging out of pub windows, and cheering. By sheer luck my favorite track from the Luciano album started playing: Mogane by Sety, and as I crossed the bridge the song hit it's break, and my spine tingled, and I looked up to the skies and gave it a bit of the Lionel Messi, as seen below.





It was an amazing feeling and I came off the bridge ready to run and run. I noticed that some pockets would cheer really loudly, I thought they were cheering for me, when I turned I realized that they were charity groups, cheering for their charity runner next to me.

Next thing was gel packs, they were essential for me as I knew they would give me pockets of energy when I needed them, they taste awful but 10-15 mins later you get a surge of energy through you, and you need it.

From miles 13 - 18 it felt like the organizers had put the mile markers out wrong, they were getting further and further away, and it took longer and longer to get to the next one. The music needed to change so it was time for the big guns. Andy C's Nightlife 4 got the nod and I was off.

It was during this part that I saw 2 people in the crowd that I knew. One was my friend Jack, who was watching out for his Dad, I shouted at him as I passed, and he swung round and was a bit surprised, I don't think he knew I was running. The next was my friend Laura, she was hanging out of a window with her sister and some other girls, all with matching tee shirts on. Not with my face on them though.

By now my legs were screaming, a constant burning pain, with a slight numbness in my toes. Mentally I still felt good but knew that I wanted to slow or walk for a second or two. Now, for a long time I've had a inner monologue with my body, as if my body has different parts that talk to each other, I think I've mentioned it on this before. Well my legs were very annoyed with my head but my head was having none of it, my brain knew that if we stopped now, we'd never start again. So I kept running.

20 miles came up and I knew that this was critical for me, 6 miles is my regular run, I've done it nearly every other day for 6 months,

"this is it, you know what six miles feels like, it's our house to Victoria Park, round once, and back to the house" I thought. My legs replied,

"yeah, but we hadn't run 20 fucking miles before it had we you stupid prick?, stop! now!" my legs replied.

I was running slower but still felt that it was a ok pace, I just didn't have the confidence to speed up again, I couldn't risk pushing harder when I still had a little way to go. 21 miles came up and who did I see in front of me? Scary Clown Guy. He looked terrible, all his make up had gone, leaving his fairly ugly face, I realized then why he'd gone down the fancy dress route, he was ugly. It was a good ploy.

I passed him and the embankment stretched out in front of me, the crowds were deep and noisy again, I needed to switch the music again, so DJ Hazard live came through, it was just what I needed.

2 miles to go and my left arm goes numb,
"we're having a stroke" says brain bit 1,
"good, at least we can stop then" chips in legs,
"we're not having a stroke" brain bit 2 replies,
"what do you know?" says everyone.

I drop the water and squeeze and close my left fist. I calm everyone down. By this point I can't look up at anyone, I can hear people shout my name (it was on my shirt, they didn't know me) but I can't wave at them.

I look up and see Big Ben, I know I'm close and the mile markers change to meters.

'800m to go' reads one, I don't know how far that is, then it switches to 600m, I'm getting confused, I can't do maths at the best of times, but now these numbers may as well be in roman numerals. 400m is there, then, almost straight away, there's a sign for 385m! what's the point of that?

200m and we turn and I see Buckingham Palace and know that the mall is right there, but I don't know how far down the mall the finish line is, I turn the corner and see it, I start speeding up, I flick the headphones out and listen to my heart pounding, and my feet smashing into the ground, I pass people and aim for the quietest finish line. I get over the line and stop straight away.

"Right then boys, do not work anymore and stab him as much you can" my legs demand.

I seize up and have to grab a marshal to hold me up, she's really nice but won't carry me so I hobble off, I turn back and the clock says 3:17 I'm amazed but gutted I didn't speed up with a mile or two to go, I think I'd have done 3:13/14

I stagger like a drunkard down to my lorry, and get my stuff. I ring my lietastic Dad, and he's waiting for me at the gate, I see him, and fall into him. Then tears well up in my eyes and I'm on the verge of breaking down but the pain just stops me. I stumble towards a few people giving massages to their charity runners, I offer them all the money I have, and I get a 10 minute bit of bliss.

And that was it, I'd run the London marathon. 26.2 miles

I take my shoes off and my toe is basically a blood blister, I go to see the St johns people and they burst it and set me on my way. I go to the nearest pub and drink, it wasn't the best idea, but I deserved the drink.

I woke up in the hotel at 5am and needed a wee, it took me 10 mins from bed to loo and back again. In the morning I logged on and checked my official time:

I came 2,598 out of 36,000 and I ran it in 3 hours and 16 minutes.

I'm not sure what to do with myself now.




The end. I'm going to carry on running, if for some reason you want me to carry on writing please send me a message on Facebook.

Cheers,
Gareth Potter