Unfinished Business Part 3
Day 70 - Marathon Training - Rest
Just resting today, so time to continue with the story …
I started but didn't finish the 1986 London Marathon. In earlier blog extracts I have explained the lead up to the moment in this photo - Yes, that's me looking completely spaced out, being helped along by a thoughtful fellow runner near the Tower of London. The extracts which follow are from a diary I wrote a few days after the event …
"I can remember feeling tired, VERY tired and feeling as though I was leaning forwards, as if I was perpetually running uphill. I was aware that a lot of runners were passing me and was vaguely aware of some people walking and thinking how nice that looked - what a comforting thought, to be walking rather than running. I remember at one point seeing things blurred at the side of my vision. But I feel as though I went on for some time after that …
I have a vision of running in blackness with a runner either side helping me and trying to kindly persuade them to carry on without me, "I'll be alright". I remember going down twice - once on hands and knees and desperately groping onwards and another time just sitting down like a baby with reassuring voices around me telling me to stay as I was for a while. I thought that sounded like a good idea and I nodded. I don't think I'd given up at that point. It wouldn't be long before I'd be off again. I had to be sensible and take a breather, although I hadn't wanted to stop…
I came round in an ambulance. I was home. For a few moments there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be - reassuring words were floating towards me, I was resting flat on my back unable to move but it was over.
With vague consciousness, my first worries were for those who wouldn't now meet me at The Founders Arms - could these people get a message to them? - Oh and also to my parents who must have seen me collapse on TV - could they ring them? I started reeling out names and phone numbers - I think I was going under again because I couldn't get more than one digit out at a time without a rest. I think they only humoured me anyway.
A doctor gave me a couple of glucose tablets and I was nearly sick - I tried to take them out. They lifted my head and gave me cool, sweet water. There was someone else in the ambulance - she was complaining about mud splattered on her tights.
Three people (I think) lifted me into a wheelchair, wrapped a blanket around me and transferred me to another ambulance. I was conscious enough to quip, 'Isn't there a rule against this … if you start on foot, you're not allowed to finish in a wheelchair'.
Just resting today, so time to continue with the story …
I started but didn't finish the 1986 London Marathon. In earlier blog extracts I have explained the lead up to the moment in this photo - Yes, that's me looking completely spaced out, being helped along by a thoughtful fellow runner near the Tower of London. The extracts which follow are from a diary I wrote a few days after the event …
"I can remember feeling tired, VERY tired and feeling as though I was leaning forwards, as if I was perpetually running uphill. I was aware that a lot of runners were passing me and was vaguely aware of some people walking and thinking how nice that looked - what a comforting thought, to be walking rather than running. I remember at one point seeing things blurred at the side of my vision. But I feel as though I went on for some time after that …
I have a vision of running in blackness with a runner either side helping me and trying to kindly persuade them to carry on without me, "I'll be alright". I remember going down twice - once on hands and knees and desperately groping onwards and another time just sitting down like a baby with reassuring voices around me telling me to stay as I was for a while. I thought that sounded like a good idea and I nodded. I don't think I'd given up at that point. It wouldn't be long before I'd be off again. I had to be sensible and take a breather, although I hadn't wanted to stop…
I came round in an ambulance. I was home. For a few moments there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be - reassuring words were floating towards me, I was resting flat on my back unable to move but it was over.
With vague consciousness, my first worries were for those who wouldn't now meet me at The Founders Arms - could these people get a message to them? - Oh and also to my parents who must have seen me collapse on TV - could they ring them? I started reeling out names and phone numbers - I think I was going under again because I couldn't get more than one digit out at a time without a rest. I think they only humoured me anyway.
A doctor gave me a couple of glucose tablets and I was nearly sick - I tried to take them out. They lifted my head and gave me cool, sweet water. There was someone else in the ambulance - she was complaining about mud splattered on her tights.
Three people (I think) lifted me into a wheelchair, wrapped a blanket around me and transferred me to another ambulance. I was conscious enough to quip, 'Isn't there a rule against this … if you start on foot, you're not allowed to finish in a wheelchair'.