This year I managed to fulfil an ambition I’ve had for some time. 1111
I completed the London Marathon. Not only that, it turns out it was the hottest on record!
Having volunteered several times at charity cheering points in the past, I was expecting the crowd to be fantastic.
I was not disappointed.
An intense vocal support lined the streets in their droves, cheering on Mo Farah and everyone else as they ran, walked or waddled past.
Although I found the actual running part difficult, plodding past the 18 mile marker whilst well-wishers gulped an ice cold beer was especially was hard to take.
A lukewarm bottle of Buxton water is not quite the same.
Having said that, I was pretty impressed by a rapid chap, James Poole, who stated he had a beer at mile 24.
I was not in the state to do likewise.
As I progressed, the heat took it’s toll and I hobbled across the finish line after a gruelling 5 hours 8 minutes and 42 seconds.
After the event, I was due to meet hardy familial supporters at The Antelope pub in West London.
A few days before the event, I imagined I’d be able to have a leisurely saunter around the 26 mile course, collect the medal, get a photo, before briskly walking to the pub. I’d then demolish a roast chicken or two, and wash this down with a good three or four pints.
But alas, I was so full of gel, Lucozade and jelly babies that I could barely eat a chip afterwards, let alone a roast chicken.
Still, after some time cooling down outside, I did finally feel normal enough to gulp down a fine pint of Southern Star from Fullers’s.
It tasted amazing, but that was it. I was then off home to get a shower and ice my legs.
As a bonus, I still have two vouchers for free pints of London Pride to use this month!