There's just one problem. That banner doesn't seem to be getting any closer. Every time I look up from the ground and away from my lumbering feet it’s stuck there on the horizon, just out of reach in the far distance, refusing to get any nearer.
I’m broken, I have been since about four miles ago. If this were a film (anyone interested in buying the rights please get in contact) now would be the montage moment. Six months of training and seventeen years of illness would be wrapped up in a three minute Rocky style moment of cinematic epicness. Real life is rarely like the movies. I have thought about this moment for a long time, about what it would be like, the emotions I may feel, but right now I can’t think of anything, I’ve got no energy left for emotion. I feel empty, shut off from the outside world, in my own marathon bubble of pain. It's just me and that damn banner. It will not defeat me.
From out of nowhere a figure runs towards me, it takes me a few seconds to register it's my wife, running in with me, guiding me home. She’s my link back into the real world after hours of running in a tunnel, thinking only of getting this far. I try to talk to her but I can hardly get the words out. After three hours with only me and my mind for company, I can't quite take in something from the real world. “Is that the line” I whisper, the voice seemingly not coming from me. “Yes” she says “Go for it you’re almost there.” I stumble forward, trying my best to look with it for the cameras. I'm here, I've made it, after all this, after everything I'm a marathon runner. I celebrate by trying not to collapse whilst chugging a much needed Lucozade.
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| I've done it. At this point I was still in a bit of a daze. |
This is all I've been thinking about for the last six months, I've done it, but I can't feel a thing, I'm not sure what I expected but it's a massive anticlimax. All my concentration is now taken up with trying to stay standing. Slowly the real world is coming back into view. It's like someone has turned on the light after you have been sleeping. For a while everything is bleached out, over exposed, people are talking at me but it's not making much sense. Slowly the world starts to filter back into view. It's been hot, damn hot today. It's the one thing I was worried about before the race. Well ok, there were plenty of other things I was fretting about, but I don't get on well with heat, it’s what worried me the most.
Three hours and ten minutes ago I was stood waiting impatiently on the start line not quite sure what was ahead of me. The previous few days had been lost to a sea of nerves. It had become unbearable but I was here waiting to go, ready to do my running thing. Even then standing in the crowd it was too hot, that heat scared me but I had done all I could to prepare. I had plastered myself in three layers of sun cream and drunk as much water as I could stomach. Do your worst sunshine.
Three hours and ten minutes ago I was stood waiting impatiently on the start line not quite sure what was ahead of me. The previous few days had been lost to a sea of nerves. It had become unbearable but I was here waiting to go, ready to do my running thing. Even then standing in the crowd it was too hot, that heat scared me but I had done all I could to prepare. I had plastered myself in three layers of sun cream and drunk as much water as I could stomach. Do your worst sunshine.
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| With the CDF, Dockside and GLA Runners before the start of the marathon |
So we set off on that mad dash into the fist corner where it always seems like the race is a hundred meter sprint. Keep calm I kept on telling myself, stick to the plan. It’s just a run, a long training run in the sun, a tour of a city I don’t know. As we wound our way through the parks and past the football stadiums I stuck to my target pace, I felt comfortable. I enjoyed being the tourist, taking in the views, chatting to marshals on their bikes and high fiving people in the crowd. Marathons weren’t meant to be fun, they were meant to be full of pain, toil and suffering. Maybe this would be different? Maybe I could outrun the pain?
In the back of my mind the three hour goal loomed. I felt good. Despite the hills, the heat and the last minute injury niggles I felt like I might actually do it. For the first 13.1 miles the plan worked perfectly. Things were now starting to get tough but I was still on pace. I was using every bit of shade I could, running in the shadows of buildings and under the canopy of the trees. It was not enough though and despite gulping down as much water as I could at the aid stations I was starting to feel the effects of the heat. The world was closing in around me. A tunnel was forming and I was starting to blank out the sights of the city. The crowds that had once seemed so near and so loud drifted further and further away from me. I was now alone with my thoughts. My marathon had just begun.
At mile 18 on Penny Lane it all started to go wrong. I awoke from my running daze to the blaring tones of the Beetles. “You got this” A woman with a microphone yells. “Have I?” I thought. “Do you really know what it's like?” “Nearly there” she yelled at the next runner behind still eight miles from the finish. “You have no idea what you’re talking about” I think. “You have been employed because you are loud and have a super human ability to endure listening to the Beatles on a loop for seven hours.” Normally I love any kind of encouragement however the noise and loud over enthusiasm had proved too much. I realised then with these incoherent thoughts I was starting to struggle, the heat was sapping rational thought from me. More importantly it was sucking out the energy I had felt for the first half of the race. The goal of three hours was disappearing behind the shimmering heat haze that had now surrounded me.
Keep going, I must keep going.
I stumbled through the last park, and hit the seafront. Now there was no escape from the heat. No buildings to hide behind, no trees to filter it out. It was just wide open space, blazing sun and a headwind, a damn head wind. I could see the tall skyscrapers of the city centre that surrounded the finish line in the distance, never had four miles looked so far.
In the back of my mind the three hour goal loomed. I felt good. Despite the hills, the heat and the last minute injury niggles I felt like I might actually do it. For the first 13.1 miles the plan worked perfectly. Things were now starting to get tough but I was still on pace. I was using every bit of shade I could, running in the shadows of buildings and under the canopy of the trees. It was not enough though and despite gulping down as much water as I could at the aid stations I was starting to feel the effects of the heat. The world was closing in around me. A tunnel was forming and I was starting to blank out the sights of the city. The crowds that had once seemed so near and so loud drifted further and further away from me. I was now alone with my thoughts. My marathon had just begun.
At mile 18 on Penny Lane it all started to go wrong. I awoke from my running daze to the blaring tones of the Beetles. “You got this” A woman with a microphone yells. “Have I?” I thought. “Do you really know what it's like?” “Nearly there” she yelled at the next runner behind still eight miles from the finish. “You have no idea what you’re talking about” I think. “You have been employed because you are loud and have a super human ability to endure listening to the Beatles on a loop for seven hours.” Normally I love any kind of encouragement however the noise and loud over enthusiasm had proved too much. I realised then with these incoherent thoughts I was starting to struggle, the heat was sapping rational thought from me. More importantly it was sucking out the energy I had felt for the first half of the race. The goal of three hours was disappearing behind the shimmering heat haze that had now surrounded me.
Keep going, I must keep going.
I stumbled through the last park, and hit the seafront. Now there was no escape from the heat. No buildings to hide behind, no trees to filter it out. It was just wide open space, blazing sun and a headwind, a damn head wind. I could see the tall skyscrapers of the city centre that surrounded the finish line in the distance, never had four miles looked so far.
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| In a world of my own a few miles away from the finish. Thanks to Gareth Everett for the picture |
At this point the run turned from a chase, into survival, the heat had got me. The stagger to the distant banner had begun. I now just had to make it to the finish, it was all I could do. The run turned had turned into a plod and then in places a walk. It was just a few paces here and there and then I would stagger on but it felt pathetic, it felt like I was on a treadmill going backwards. Apparently I ran past a friend in those last few miles, he later told me he was screaming at me, yelling encouragement as I passed within feet of him. I didn’t hear a thing, I could only think of the finish. Nothing else existed.
A week on and I still can’t quite believe I’ve done it. The pain that still sits in my legs reminds me that it did actually happen. During those last few miles I ran headfirst into the wall that runners talk about so much. They were the hardest miles I’ve ever run.
A week on and I still can’t quite believe I’ve done it. The pain that still sits in my legs reminds me that it did actually happen. During those last few miles I ran headfirst into the wall that runners talk about so much. They were the hardest miles I’ve ever run.
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| The Finish! The point that felt so far away only a few minutes earlier |
I’ve struggled with my thoughts about the race this week and I think that’s because of the conflicting emotions I feel about my run. On the one hand I’m proud to have finished a marathon on a tough hilly course. On the other I’m disappointed to have missed the time goal I had set myself.
I used to look upon the marathon as an unattainable goal. Marathons were run by people who were far fitter, stronger and tougher than I was. They were run by people who didn’t have M.E. By finishing I have done something I never thought possible a few years ago. I have proved myself wrong. Running has helped me tackle the illness and accomplish challenges I thought were out of reach.
I’ve always said though I never wanted to be defined by the M.E. I didn’t want to just get through this race. That was why I set the goal of three hours and I why was initially disappointed that I missed it. It didn’t matter about the heat and the hilly course. Club mates have since told me it was probably the toughest marathon they have done. In the coming weeks I think I will become happier with my time but I always want to run quicker and race better. As a runner I am never satisfied, it’s what pushes me on and drives me to the next challenge.
I know now why it felt like an anticlimax when I crossed the finish line. It was because I was expecting an ending, a conclusion for my story. The reality is that that it won’t end, I will keep on running, it’s what I do now. I was never going to stop after just one marathon. The three hour goal is still there looming large and I’m already thinking of what marathon to tackle next.
At the very start of this blog I introduced myself as Tom Martin, M.E sufferer. Now I am Tom Martin, Marathon runner.
I used to look upon the marathon as an unattainable goal. Marathons were run by people who were far fitter, stronger and tougher than I was. They were run by people who didn’t have M.E. By finishing I have done something I never thought possible a few years ago. I have proved myself wrong. Running has helped me tackle the illness and accomplish challenges I thought were out of reach.
I’ve always said though I never wanted to be defined by the M.E. I didn’t want to just get through this race. That was why I set the goal of three hours and I why was initially disappointed that I missed it. It didn’t matter about the heat and the hilly course. Club mates have since told me it was probably the toughest marathon they have done. In the coming weeks I think I will become happier with my time but I always want to run quicker and race better. As a runner I am never satisfied, it’s what pushes me on and drives me to the next challenge.
I know now why it felt like an anticlimax when I crossed the finish line. It was because I was expecting an ending, a conclusion for my story. The reality is that that it won’t end, I will keep on running, it’s what I do now. I was never going to stop after just one marathon. The three hour goal is still there looming large and I’m already thinking of what marathon to tackle next.
At the very start of this blog I introduced myself as Tom Martin, M.E sufferer. Now I am Tom Martin, Marathon runner.
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| With my wife Bernie showing off our race medals, at this point it was just starting to sink in what I had done. |
I just want to thank you all for the support. Here is a link to my just giving page, raising money for Action for M.E, it's you last chance to donate people.
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