Michael McEwan - Running the Smoke: 26 First-Hand Accounts of Tackling the London Marathon

RUNNING THE SMOKE

26 FIRST-HAND ACCOUNTS OF TACKLING

THE LONDON MARATHON

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by
ARENA SPORT
An imprint of Birlinn Limited
West Newington House
10 Newington Road
Edinburgh
EH9 1QS

www.arenasportbooks.co.uk

Copyright Michael McEwan, 2016

ISBN: 9781909715387 eBook
ISBN: 9780857903327

The right of Michael McEwan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and obtain their permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologises for any errors or omissions and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library.

Designed and typeset by Polaris Publishing, Edinburgh
www.polarispublishing.com

Printed in Great Britain by Clays, St Ives

CONTENTS

The greater the obstacle,
the more glory in overcoming it.
Molire

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life;
for there is in London all that life can afford.
Samuel Johnson

For Juliet,
and the three little ones wholl
never run a marathon but are with
us every step of the way.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PREFACE

EVERYTHING HURTS.

The soles of my feet, my shins, my calves, my knees, my thighs, my hamstrings, my hips, my chest, my shoulders, my forearms, my head.

Everything.

I might be imagining it but I think I can feel each individual hair pulsing in the crown of my skull in time to my heartbeat and, just for good measure, Ive even managed to get sunburnt.

Suddenly, a realisation hits me: Im crying. At least I think I am. I sweep the back of my hand across my cheek to make sure. At first, the friction of dry skin on dry skin feels as though Im dragging sandpaper across my face but then I feel them. Tears. Warm, humiliating, inexplicable tears. Great.

Im exhausted. Im dehydrated. My shorts and T-shirt are rinsed in sweat.

Im a mess.

Theres not much I can do about any of that right now, though, so I hobble forward to collect my medal. A volunteer in her fifties picks it up, opens the lanyard and is ready to pass it over my head and down around my neck when she hesitates. Right then, I realise Im not just shedding a few tears. Im sobbing almost uncontrollably, like a scolded child.

Somehow, I manage an embarrassed laugh. Im really sorry, I say. Its just that Ive been waiting for this moment for most of my life. A trifle melodramatic but not entirely untrue, either.

The woman smiles, continues and, as she adjusts the way the ribbon sits on my neck, she pats me on the shoulder and says: Well, youve earned it.

I force a grateful nod of acknowledgement and shuffle along, studying my medal as I go. As I gaze at it, I feel almost hypnotised and, in that instant, every pain evaporates at once. Right at this moment, I feel only one thing: pride. Immense, immeasurable, irresistible pride.

It has taken me years to get to this point and, for good measure, a further four hours, forty-one minutes and fifty-nine seconds to complete the punishing but magnificent course. But it has all been worth it.

Its Sunday, 13 April 2014 and I have just run the London Marathon.

*

I THINK Im quite like most other runners in that I dont run for pleasure.

It is not, in my opinion, a particularly enjoyable activity. Putting one foot in front of the other as fast as you can whats to enjoy?

Instead, I run for fulfilment. I do it for the rush, the buzz, the sense of accomplishment as you cross the finishing line. Nothing compares to that feeling. Your veins pop, crackle and fizz. Your senses jingle, your nerves jangle. You feel ten feet tall and entirely invincible. Its unique. Its brilliant. Its addictive.

I first encountered it at school. I ran throughout my time there, although not to any great standard. Whilst most of my classmates dreaded the annual December cross country race, I looked forward to it. I never won it. Never even came close. But I always got what I wanted out of it: that feeling.

I entered my first timed race at the age of twenty-two the Great Scottish Run in Glasgow and subsequently took part in numerous 10k events.

My first marathon was Loch Ness in September 2011. I followed that up with the Berlin Marathon exactly twelve months later. But I wanted more. I wanted London.

As a little boy, I used to watch it on television every year sitting in the living room of our family home. I loved it from the moment I first saw it. It leapt off the screen. The elite runners left me dumbstruck. The fancy dress worn by the fun runners made me smile. The anthem at the beginning of the BBC coverage made my heart swell. More than anything, I loved its tangible camaraderie and warmth. The London Marathon is so much more than a sporting event. It is entirely transcendent.

It was, therefore, inevitable I would run it one day. It was just a question of when. For me, that when was that sunny Sunday in April 2014. Did it live up to my expectations? More than. Did it hurt? Oh God, yeah. Do I want to do it all over again? Like you wouldnt believe.

Standing on the start line that morning, I took a moment to look around at all of the other runners. More than 36,000 people took part that day and, like me, all were there for a reason. Mine was to complete a lifetime ambition. For others, it was to run in memory of a loved one, to celebrate overcoming an illness, to raise money for a charity, to lose weight, and so on and so forth.

Thats where the idea for this book first crystallised. I decided I wanted to find twenty-six inspirational people who have completed the London Marathon and find out more about their motivations for getting to the start line as much as their experiences between there and the finish.

In my research, I have spoken to some truly wonderful people who have, truthfully, left a profound and lasting impression on me. It is so easy to get cocooned within the minutiae of our own lives, isnt it? The only way to maintain an anchor-point on reality and understand the true context of our troubles is to talk to others. Its an underrated medium in this era of text-speak and digital communication.

Some of the stories that follow are funny. Others are remarkable. More still are illuminating. And some, Im afraid to say, are impossibly sad. Each and every one has been my immense privilege to hear at their source and share herein with you.

Whether you have run the London Marathon before, dream of running it in the future, or simply just enjoy reading about ordinary people doing extraordinary things, I hope you will draw inspiration from what follows. I know I have.

Enjoy the book.

Michael McEwan
April 2016

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE LONDON MARATHON

EVERY race starts somewhere.

Incongruous as it may seem, the London Marathon can trace its own beginnings to a pub in south-west London. It was in the Dysart Arms, adjacent to Richmond Park, that plans for what would become one of the worlds most iconic running events were hatched in 1979.