I'm writing in a haze of post marathon euphoria and I wasn't even a competitor, I was a spectator. You may get a sense of my marathon mania by the end of this.
11 years ago I took part in my first, and only, marathon - London. I was very fortunate to get a charity place. It took over 6 months of my life and it remains one of my biggest achievements to date. As a long term marathon observer, it was brilliant to be able to take part. It was everything I had hoped for and more. I struggled but I completed it, got my medal and, although my time of 6 hours 3 mins wasn't great, I had done it and I was delighted.
Fast forward 11 years and I'm back in London to support my daughter who had managed to get a charity place and was taking part in her second marathon having completed Brighton last year. London had been her aim for years and she was finally getting the chance to fulfill her dream.
I caught the train up to London as I didn't want to the stress of parking and so on and joined a train full of enthusiastic marathon supporters and football fans. I got off at Waterloo and made my way on foot to Tower Bridge which is my favourite marathon spot and the half way point. It was there that I got a call from my daughter to say that she had been into a first aid stop as her hip was giving her immense pain and she wasn't able to run anymore. She was at 11 km. She assured me that she was ok but I could hear the disappointment in her voice. However, she was totally determined to finish the marathon no matter how long it took and that is exactly what she did.
A little while after getting the call from her I stood on Tower Bridge with a mass of people and cheered as I saw her approaching me. She saw me and stopped for a hug. She was tearful but tears of emotion not sadness. Then she was on her way and I didn't see her again until we met at the meet and greet area once she had completed her challenge.
She limped towards me with a huge smile on her face and a large medal around her neck. Again there were tears of elation and hugs and I could completely understand how she was feeling.
A few moments later and we were joined by my son in law and their two boys, aged 4 and 2, who had been popping up at various points en route to cheer their mummy on. Cue more hugs!
We set off towards the subway with my daughter hobbling along but smiling. We had steps to climb which were difficult. My grandson even chose to hold my hand which made me beam as he hasn't really ever done that before. It's the little things sometimes, isn't it? We then said our goodbyes and I made my way back to Waterloo after a truly inspiring and motivating day.
The memories of my own London marathon experience came flooding back throughout the day. The crowds, the noise and the support. The elation and the pain. The agony and the ecstasy. Hitting the wall at 21 miles and the overwhelming thrill of putting that medal around your neck. Oh, I loved it! I loved it so much that I am seriously contemplating running another marathon. I know I have another one in me but I also need to be realistic and take into account my knees etc. For now I think that next year could be the year!
I'm thrilled that I was able to be there to support my daughter and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. My marathon love is renewed!
Much love to you all xxxx
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