The London Marathon was last Sunday, delayed by covid from its place in the spring. I watched the start on tv then took one of my regular walks, a circuit of Canterbury. Reminisced about my past running.
Worked for 24 years at Canterbury College as a science technician. The college is less than a mile from open country, had changing rooms and showers and a group of technicians. Jogging was fashionable in the 80s. One of us organised a three mile jog. Think there were seven of us. This reduced to two, and then one. Me.
Then a holiday in Hastings with wife and two young sons broke the sequence.
First London marathon revived my interest. Saw the two winners cross the line handinhand and thought “I’d like to do that” A feeling i rarely have. Also thought it was too ambitious. Then five mile Canterbury Fun Run. Thought i can work up to that. went from threemiles to six in easy stages. Advice from workmate John Adam, runner and musician. Replace old plimsoles with running shoes. Llew Williams, a lecturer at the college, ran at the same speed at me. We trained and ran races together. Seems to me that made us runners, not joggers. Maybe an unnecessary distinction.
Injured left knee cartilage by slipping on a kerb. Later damaged back. In those far off days the doctor told me to lie flat for two weeks. Depressing. Recovered and began building up the miles. Lucky entry to London Marathon. Foolishly ran in Thanet marathon three weeks before. Foolish because i could never have recovered in time. There’s a steep climb after Ramsgate that finished me. I stopped after about twenty miles. No chance of running in London.
So i found what failure feels like. Running is addictive. That and fear of failure drove me on. Odd how a meaningless activity gives meaning to life. The late BBC commentator David Coleman could understand records, best times and fun runners supporting charities. There must be thousands like me, serious runners though not very fast. Why do we do it? I was going on about this during a Canterbury marathon when i slipped and sprained an ankle. Coleman’s revenge?
To cut the story short i ran the London marathon in 1987. At that time it finished on Westminster Bridge. Jimmy Savile later fixed it with the queen to end on the Mall. I stepped over the finish line with tears of relief saying “never again”. I was 12,860th in 3hrs 55min.
Soon i entered for yet another Canterbury half marathon. Years later i lost motivation and decrepitude took over.
The walk? Okay except for traffic noise on the ring road. Runners kept my mind on the marathon. Wasn’t tempted to break into a run myself. A small boy fed ducks in Westgate Gardens. A couple embraced on top of the Dane John mound. Difficult to keep a safe distance from other people: too many think covid is over.
Home in time to see the marathon winners.
Rambling Brummie 