Stephen Jackson …
The day before I travelled to London I was informed, via Facebook, that my 2015 PB from the Greater Manchester Marathon was no longer recognised by England Athletics as an official marathon time. Suddenly, the trip to the Capital had a little more pressure attached to it.
Fastforward three days, and I’m inside a portable toilet in the Blackwall tunnel, about fourteen miles into the Virgin Money London Marathon, again cursing my luck as my dreamof emulating that time from Manchester isslipping away before my very eyes.
There is undoubtedly a metaphor I could shoehorn into this report (hopes and dreams down the toilet related), but I won’t. Safe to say my race plan did not involve a portaloos portable toilets stop.
However, I emerged from that tunnel with a new focus, running a sub 02:45 marathon – slightly slower than my ‘dream’ time for London – but enough to earn a Championship place for the following year and a symbolic two fingered salute to the organisers of the Greater Manchester Marathon.
Just after the toilet stop I passed Alyson Dixon, leading the charge for the GB women, going in the opposite direction; this lifted my spirits as I was able to manage a “go on Aly” as she flew by me. Not long after that I saw my lovely wife Vics, our two girls and my Mam and Dad who’d made the trip to London to again meet the newest member of our family, my Nephew Seb.
Before long I was again hitting on or around 03:53 per km (06:15 minute miles) and things were, sort of, back on course. I felt better at 16 miles than I did at 6, I felt like I was back in control. 19 – 23 miles were, as expected, a struggle. My pace dropped off slightly and I really needed to dig deep to keep the dream alive. That said, I was passing people, I wasn’t thriving but I was struggling less than those around me. At 24 miles, I started to work towards the finish line. I had a wrong to right from Manchester, I wanted my Championship place back.

The last two miles were everything I hoped they would be, I didn’t really give a monkeys about the iconic landscape, I was more interested in the fact I was finishing strongly. I did the maths in my head with 1km to go and new it was in my grasp, only just.
02:44:06 – 54 seconds to spare; maybe I didn’t need to rush that toilet stop after all. I have unfinished business at this distance; I can and will go faster, no doubt about it. But the feeling as I crossed the finish line was as satisfying as I’ve had in my short running career.

I’d barely paused for breath and I saw Michael Littlewood heading towards me – a HUGE PB for him on the day, taking 12 minutes off in 12 months – impressive to say the least. I only mention Michael by name as we’ve travelled the length and breadth of the UK together over the last 9 weeks, united in a common goal under the stewardship of coach Allan Seheult. We were in this together and I got just as much pleasure out of Michael’s time as I did my own.
All the Elvet Striders in London did the club and the North East proud.
Now, I have a taste for the Marathon majors; what to do next?
… Elaine Bisson
Driven by the excitement surrounding last years VMLM, I gained a place with a GFA entry. The hotel and train tickets were booked months in advance. I travelled down on friday, staying in Lewisham (ideal 20min walk from the start line at Blackheath). Registration was at Custom Excel VMLM Expo, here there was a buzz of excitement from fellow marathoners and stewards.
I spent the remainder of the Saturday being very lazy and finishing off my carb loading. That night was the first in a long time when I slept until the buzz of my alarm clock heralded the start of race day. Fuelled up with porridge heavily soaked with maple syrup, I made my way through the magnificent surroundings of Lewisham to locate the green blip in the sky, marking the start for the GFA and celebs! By the Hare and Billet Road there was no doubt in my mind that I had found the right place, it was absolutely teaming with runners as they too made their way to the start.
A highlight for me was running into some fellow striders and being sneaked into the Virgin tent, with its warmth, bean bags, chairs, pre race fuelling, and most importantly pristine toilets with no queue (thank you!)
Baggage buses were loaded by 9:25, we headed to the start pens with 10 minutes to spare. 10am and we were off. Our route collides with the blue and then the red masses and the paths get busier and busier. So busy I narrowly escaped being tripped many, many times over as runners pushed to get past, or to stick strictly to the thin blue line marking the shortest route, or to dash in front to grab water. It felt like mayhem. I did not like it. I cursed a lot.
Honestly, I don’t remember much. If you asked me about Kielder or of Windermere, I could tell you so much about the surroundings, the rise and fall of the road, this was very different. It was an assault on all of my senses.
The noise from the spectators was incredible, throughout the entire 26.2 miles, and as the day wore on the voices seemed to get louder and louder. There were numerous bands along the route, pubs playing music, an insane 100m stretch filled with people in blue frantically ringing bells.
The smells were pungent from takeaways preparing food, beer, smoke… The sights of thousands of people shouting, the Cutty Sark, miles upon miles of roads that could be anywhere in the UK, the dark grotty tunnel, the shard, no. 10, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace and the most amazing finish line ever. We experienced all seasons, from a cold chilly start, hot sun, hailstones, rain, wind.
With 5miles to go, I had had enough. The buildings were encroaching on the sky, the spectators were becoming more raucous as the pubs were drunk dry. My ears were ringing and my heart no longer singing. The wheels were quickly falling off, I tried to imagine running along the quiet road to the finish line at windermere, I summoned all my strength to get this thing over. I clung to two women and forced my legs to keep in time with theirs, finally the mall was in sight and my heart began to leap, 1000m to go, 800, 600, I round the bend and see the finish line, with its 3 entrance ways and large clocks tick, tick, ticking. It was quite spectacular, I should have enjoyed it more. Expertly herded through to receive the biggest, heaviest gold medal (sorry, no, i hadn’t won), to get a picture taken (and try to smile and stand upright while my legs start to cramp), along to pick up my bags and then out of the barriers and into even more mayhem.
I tackle my way as quickly as I can through the masses swarming St James Park, up and then down a footbridge to find Victoria Station…then the long journey back to my hotel to pick up my bags, back to Kings Cross to fill a waitrose bag with utter rubbish and then on the train home. My phone turned on and there is pandemonium as it beeps and buzzes signalling facebook conversations, messages and voice mail from friends and family who have excitably followed my small red running figure on a computer screen and watched trying to spot my purple vest on TV…I wonder if they have had more fun than me.
I have the most hilarious trip home, filling my tummy full of goodies, and sharing prosecco and daft stories with an actress who is off to dress as a cyborg for her next movie. I fall out of the station with legs unwilling to move and perhaps having had a little too much bubbles. The taxis are all taken. As I stumble towards the hill that I will have to climb to get home, the wonderful Simon saves me and gives me a lift (another highlight of my day!)
So, what did I think? I wonder if I’ve missed something. I’m not sure how much I enjoyed it, if at all. There were parts that made me grin, but when I thought the cheers would spur me on, I longed for the solitude, for countryside, for air that I wanted to inhale, for the sound of my breathing and of my own trainers tapping the floor.
However, I also know I have unfinished business. With every marathon under my belt, I learn more about how my mind and body work, Ill come back stronger and smash that PB next time…
Results
Pos |
Name |
Club |
Cat |
Catpos |
Time |
1 |
Sean Hehir |
IRL |
|
|
02:17:20 |
501 |
Stephen Jackson |
|
|
|
02:44:06 |
671 |
Michael Littlewood |
|
|
|
02:47:31 |
4316 |
Elaine Bisson |
|
|
|
03:17:32 |
5130 |
Penny Browell |
|
|
|
03:22:51 |
9345 |
Fiona Jones |
|
|
|
03:43:28 |
9780 |
Lucy Cowton |
|
|
|
03:45:04 |
13264 |
Jane Ives |
|
|
|
03:57:18 |
14269 |
Ian Spencer |
|
|
|
03:59:55 |
15593 |
Kevin Williams |
|
|
|
04:05:22 |
19422 |
Katherine Preson |
|
|
|
04:20:11 |
19423 |
Kate Macpherson |
|
|
|
04:20:12 |
20527 |
Chris Shearsmith |
|
|
|
04:24:19 |
21703 |
Jenny Search |
|
|
|
04:28:53 |
22443 |
Andrew Davies |
|
|
|
04:31:41 |
26005 |
Debbie McFarland |
|
|
|
04:46:20 |
26970 |
Jayne Freeman |
|
|
|
04:50:46 |
27959 |
Christine Farnsworth |
|
|
|
04:55:00 |
32195 |
Kelly Collier |
|
|
|
05:19:11 |
32613 |
David Case |
|
|
|
05:22:06 |
34779 |
Sophie Dennis |
|
|
|
05:40:35 |
34860 |
Hellen Allen |
|
|
|
05:41:19 |
34895 |
Lindsay Craig |
|
|
|
05:41:19 |
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