The Devil on my shoulder

Three years ago at the County Hall Hotel I swore I would never run another Marathon. Minutes earlier I had finished my eighth. It was not the 3:32 time; I have run a 3:57. It was the hour of hell those last 6 miles had given me. Leading up to London my halves where brilliant - Helsby 1:20, Wrexham 1:20 and York 1:21. I was enjoying my races; everything in the garden was rosy until London. Yes I knew I should be doing 20mile training runs but work and racing are more important than a one off race. Marathon experts seem to be everywhere - diets, rest, monitors, training, recovery - I have had years of advice. The bottom line with me is I am not a Marathon runner. The 3:09 in London 1991 gave me delusions of grandeur and made me think I could go sub 3.00. Even the time is dodgy as it was pre-chip and I reckoned it was 2 minutes before I crossed the start line. This is from someone who can’t remember the exact year he left school!

The real problem is that the little devil on your shoulder keeps whispering in your ear that you’re a loser. At the start of this crazy sport you set targets. I will be happy if I ever run a sub 40 for 10k, then you get that 39 but your not happy? A sub 90 for a half would be great after lots of halves you get the Holy Grail 89. Are you happy? You know exactly where I am coming from! You keep racing but, on your shoulder, he is regurgitating his venom.

I don’t watch many races but I decided to support local runners at the Windermere Marathon. I drove up on my own with 24 bottles of water, 12 bottles of Lucozade Sport, 1 packet of Jelly Babies, 1 packet of Lucozade Energy Tablets, a Mars Bar, a bar of Cadburys chocolate and a box of After Eights.

As usual I got everything wrong - I arrived at the start about 10.20am which was OK as I wanted to watch the race not the start. They had diverted the traffic at the start because of the race so I was very confused. I headed towards Hawkshead but the runners had been through. I started picking up the tail-enders about the 6 mile mark. The first Wesham runner I saw was John Howarth around 9 miles. Then I gradually started picking them up: Nigel, Sarah, Julie, Michaela, Graham, Martin, Simon, Pete, Russ and finally Peter.

I slowed down offering anything from my ‘goodie bag’ - the Lucozade went quickly. There was plenty of water on the course so very little was asked for. Photographs of all the runners never happened - there was no time. You don’t spread yourself very far over 26.2 miles; in fact you hardly spread yourself at all.

Having experienced what they are going through all I could do was admire them. I have never run a hilly Marathon I watched them all with a glint of respect. This is not the monster, which is London, staring at you from your television and in your newspapers. Mike Walsh ran quicker in Barcelona the previous year and never got anywhere near the plaudits, but that’s London. The people who ran Windermere will remember those 26.2 miles a lot longer than those who ran the streets of the capital.

Written by: George Kennedy

Submitted: 20^th May 2007

Edited by: Brenda J Earnshaw WRR Editor

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