Manchester Marathon - 7th April
Well Jesus Christ that was emotional...
First marathon of the year, still 11 more to do and I’ve just realised a mistake in my diary for one of them meaning that I’ll be running a marathon every weekend of October - FUCK!
Anyway, back to present day and Manchester Marathon.
I wasn’t too nervous in the lead up to this, I guess because I had London under my belt and I was going into it with no pressure on completing it by a certain time. All I needed to do was finish the thing.
So, my bag, typically, was packed the Wednesday before travelling up on the Saturday morning. I like to give myself a buffer of a few days because there will ALWAYS be something I remember I need. This time it was my phone charger.
Saturday morning arrives and the journey to Manchester goes swimmingly. Arrive in good time to check in to my AirBnB so decide a leisurely lunch at Pizza Express (classy right?!) which I virtually inhaled, followed by a quick walk around the Industrial Museum. The sun even came out, which was nice but I was soon cursing at it to piss off before the marathon. I am NOT running in heat like that again thank you very much!
Get to my AirBnB for the check in time of 3pm and my host DOESN’T ANSWER! Cue a very stressful hour of sitting on the curb outside the flat trying to get in and some very stern words with AirBnB. My host eventually cancels the booking completely and I end up bunking in with a fellow CALM runner (bless Rory! THANK YOU)
A fairly chilled evening with Rory eating as many calories and carbs as possible before a relatively early night. With my insomnia and Rory’s sleep issues though I can’t imagine between us we were too rested!
Race day arrives and nerves ahead of the start but I manage to force some food down and head to the bag drop.
It’s fucking freezing though and everyone around me is either huddled like penguins or shivering on the periphery. I’m glad I kept my long sleeved running vest on....for now at least.
I say bye to Rory, who heads down to Pen D; I’m in Pen F so start a little while after him.
The gun goes and we see the smoke flares signalling the start. We start to jostle forward, jumpers and hoodies being thrown to the side, picked up by the British Heart Foundation, and then about 9:20 I cross the start. Onwards....
The course itself was unremarkable. That sounds harsh but 26.2 miles of motorways, industrial parks and dual carriage ways IS a bit dull after a while. What really made the race were the crowds. Honestly, they were out in their droves at the start, with patches along the route but occasionally you’d pass a pub or a church acting as an unofficial pit stop, offering water, bananas, gummies and welcome toilet break for the hordes unlucky enough to miss the chance at the start. Music blaring, signs and cheers as loved ones passed were a real lift on a cold Mancunian morning.
The race is about 65% smaller than London Marathon with only 20,000 participants which made for fewer costumed runners and gave it the feeling that it was more ‘serious’ but the crowds and music soon changed that.
Mile 3 comes up and it’s now getting too hot to wear my long sleeved top. My smugness from earlier dissipates as hundreds of runners pass by as I change. I rejoin the course though, power through the rest break and am still averaging a 5:50km giving me plenty of time in hand to lose as I slow in the second half.
I had a bit of a moment as I passed Mile 8 (I think....it all blurs into 1 long sequence with time and distance losing all meaning) Firestarter was blaring out and just being reminded of Keith Flint and his recent death, coupled with the charity I am running for just made it all a bit real. I regrouped and ploughed on; now is not the time to be losing your shit Emma, you’re not even half way!
It was really nice to bump into fellow CALM runner, Chris Green at around the Mile 11 mark. It always gives you a lift to see others running for the same cause.
The halfway mark was amazing! The crowds were so on your side and cheering your every step even if the turn round point to run 13 miles back along more dual carriage ways wasn’t all that thrilling.
One thing I did find out this time around though was at the hydration points, POINT and make eye contact with the person you’re aiming for. It made the hand over a lot smoother, I didn’t have to slow down or worry about knocking it out their hands etc I’ll try it again this weekend and see if it works as smoothly again.
Being the shameless show off that I am, any time I saw a camera pointed my way I had to jump! Stupid now I think back on it as one bad landing could twist my knee, ankle, foot and it’d be game over by at that moment the small adrenaline burst was appreciated and made for some spectacularly awful/funny photos!
Mile 20 came around and willing my legs to move just that final 6.2 miles came easier after some quick sums. 6.1 miles is 10km approximately which I can run in about an hour at the pace I was going. Just 1 more hour and it’ll be done. Just one leg in front of the other and it’ll be done.
Between Mile 22 and Mile 24 though my legs were done, a short walk to try and stretch out my thighs and get myself together. Everything is hurting and after pounding the roads for more than 3 hours your muscles can only seem to run. Walking hurts but you step out into a stride again and you have the crowds behind you, you pick up the pace again. I still find it amazing that after 3 hours of running I could still manage to run a 5:48km!
Seeing Mile 25 ahead with the finish funnel in the distance was the spur I needed though. I was done. My body was screaming and the tears started. Just willing yourself over the line, putting on that smile for the crowds and the cameras whilst everything in you is begging you to sit down and rest takes more determination and strength than anyone lets on. 26.2 miles is a long fucking way!
I get to Mile 26 and the finish is in sight, the crowds are behind you, the cameras pointing at you and with the final surge of energy you have you get yourself to the line in whatever spectacular fashion you see fit. Some flail their arms (that’s me), some stretch arms out like they are welcoming rain, others hold hands with fellow runners and the more competitive sprint finish. Whatever way you do it, you made it over the line.
You collect your well earned medal, your goody bag (which this time around was 2 soreen loafs, t-shirt and a bottle of water) and head to the bag drop.
In that way that I tend to overthink and plan everything down to the smallest detail, I’d allowed myself a full 7 hours to complete the course meaning my train wasn’t due to leave until 6:55pm. An easy ride to the station, followed by a generous helping of sushi as a celebratory lunch, I decided to see if I could wangle myself onto an earlier train. There’s no way I had the energy to stay awake for a further 3 hours waiting for a train!
Ah ha! The 4:20 looked to do the job and my ticket was accepted (phew!) so I made my way in to the quiet coach for some sleep on the 2 hour journey back to London.
The ticket inspector came past and gently woke me, immediate panic as I knew I wasn’t on my booked train but the ticket scanned fine, a polite smile and quiet congrats from him was lovely to hear and he left me be.
Pulling into London Euston ahead of the time my original train was even due to leave Manchester was satisfying as I knew I now had time for a well earned soak when I got home!
Leaving the train the driver congratulated all the runners and some whoops and cheers came down the carriage. It’s nice to know you’re not alone; you feel special and part of something that for some may never be repeated.
Homeward bound and I roll through the door, into the bath and onto bed. I’d done it quicker than I had planned and is the 1st of 12 to complete this year.
