The Book Tower

Well I did it, and apart from some sore inner thighs, very stiff legs and a blister taking up most of my right foot, I didn’t come out of it too badly.

Prior to this race I had premonitions of my body suddenly giving in on me as it warned “you can’t keep living your life like a 20 year old and THEN think you can get up on a Sunday morning and run a half marathon!” Well, I didn’t live my life like a 20 year old last night as I was in bed by 9.30. But I do sometimes. So I was worried that I might have to drop out of the race due to either a) lack of serious training b) excess weight gain from recent holiday c) increasing age. But the thing was, even though I did have an early night I still found it hard to get up, and getting ready and having breakfast took a great deal of effort.

After my wife dropped me off in the car and I walked to the starting line I felt my body use up all of the carbohydrates I’d been storing up all week. This was a particularly sunny and hot morning, and standing waiting to start the race (there was an infuriating fifteen minute delay) I felt more energy and stamina being sapped from me. When I finally did get going (and there was another five minutes of shuffling as the crowd of runners panned out) it took me a full five miles and what seemed as many pints of sweat before I felt fully comfortable with my running.

But let’s lighten things up a bit. Novelty runners were out in force, including a man dressed as a flower, a pantomime style camel, several gorillas literally sprinting along, a woman pushing her contented baby in a pram, a man pushing another man in a wheelchair and the usual superheroes (no Hulk or Thor this year sadly).

I wish I had the guts to be a novelty runner. Even something basic like wearing a red top hat. I even thought about doing the run as Jimmy Saville. I can do a fair impersonation of him, but don’t think I could keep it up for a whole morning. Holding an unlit cigar, chugging along in a white wig and chanting in a Dalek voice “run-ning a mar-a-thon, run-ning a mar-a-thon”. No, not for over two hours.

As the sun beat down and I pounded on I began to notice the increasing amount of runners who were receiving medical attention. This ranged from the gentle roadside massage to the more serious stretcher-onto-ambulance. It was all quite disturbing, especially as many of the casualties appeared to be in their early to mid twenties. I can only put the increased number of those taken ill down to the heat, and perhaps to the new marathon course for this year which included a horrible uphill trek between six and eight miles. I walked here, but only for ten minutes.

I somehow got through to the end, pouring water over my head to keep cool and determined not to walk that last mile. Luckily my wife and daughter spotted me from the crowd and called out, pushing me on those last few hundred metres.

There is always the proud moment when, standing draped in your foil blanket and brandishing your medal, you sigh to yourself “I’ve done it!” At this point you avoid sitting down (getting up again is too difficult a proposition) and you have your eye on the crowds around you, looking for your family to guide you home.

Will I do it next year? Even though I had to sleep for three hours when I got home and will probably be completely seized up tomorrow, probably yes.

Now, where’s the beer..?