Tough Day In East London
London Marathon was tough. I believe any endurance event decides what it gives you. London decided to give me a tough day. But if it was easy, what would be the point? Right? Pheidippides died at the end of his marathon in 490 BC. I expect his carb strategy wasn’t spot-on, and adidas didn’t drop the new carbon-plate shoes in time.
I’ve said several times since the event that I didn’t enjoy a single minute of the run. I’ve turned that over in my head a lot since 26 April, and I stick by it. Not a single minute.
Ominous Signs?
I went into the London Marathon fitter on paper – well, on TrainingPeaks anyway – than I went into the New York Marathon. I had stuck to my training plan virtually flawlessly. Some knee problems bothered me, and I abandoned a 3-hour 15-minute training run with a month to go after less than two hours. I’ve never quit a training session before, not cycling or running. That was a worry.
But being me, I went on the WattBike the next day and made up the missing running minutes by pedalling in circles.
When my ‘proper’ long training run, two weeks before the event, came around, I taped up my knee and went for it. And managed the 3 hours and 45 minutes comfortably. All was well. Except for a large blister, which I put down to my sock choice.
But I had been mumbling and grumbling for weeks, to anyone who would listen or even not listen, about my body being beaten up. My knees in particular were feeling it. It was playing on my mind. I had the best help possible: a great osteopath, and a coaching team who listened carefully. But my body was waving like a drowning man, saying ‘are you sure?’
Perhaps it was simply cumulative load. I had run 1,250 kms in the year leading up to New York, and while I had reduced volume and frequency up until the end of 2025, I had kept running. Then I went into my 12-week block leading up to London, and by race week, my last 12 months of training were 1,250 kms- so the volume had kept going- indeed roughly 1,600 kms across the two events.
Perhaps it was just my body saying that I’m almost 69 and 101 kgs and fairly battered. Fit but fragile was my going-in position.
London Marathon: Race Day Prep
No complaints leading into the race week. I had tapered very well, but then had a gastric bug on the Wednesday of race week, and was feeling grim on Thursday. I missed that day’s taper run. Friday I felt a lot better; Saturday I felt that bug was a memory; I certainly wasn’t going to use it as an excuse. If it took 5-10% off the top, so what? There would be thousands of subpar people lining up on the day.
But the Saturday morning shakeout run was a bit ominous, as my knees weren’t the best. But good enough to go. And while I wasn’t logging massive sleep that week, Friday night I got 8 hours. Didn’t lift my mood. London Marathon fever was all over town, and I was still moping.
Race morning was a story of small distractions, which, when related two weeks later, sound laughable. But at the time were anxiety inducing. Could I get my race number on cleanly? – No. And it almost made me late out of the door. Would I forget my pre-race carb load, consisting of a bagel? – Yes. But I got out of the house on time, and was at the start village early.
For me, the interesting part was my lack of enthusiasm. I wasn’t excited. I wasn’t nervous. Just a bit blank. The only positives of the race village were me finding a banana on the floor to partly make up for the bagel taunting me from home. There it was, bathed in sun rays, lying on the grass, a gift from heaven. I looked guiltily around, and checked the skin from all angles. Down it went. And there were plenty of Portaloos, which is always a plus. Overhydrated marathon runners know exactly why the latter is a big plus.
Eventually it was time to assemble in the pen. I wandered over, conscious that I hadn’t spoken to anyone. That was a contrast with New York, where the start village was a positive and chatty place. Maybe my heavy introvert vibes had formed into an exclusion zone around me.
Off we went. Green Wave 12. Very much at the back of the field. That suited me: not many people passed me, but I was always overtaking someone, which is a mental boost.
Let’s Go
My target time for the London Marathon was 5 hours 29 minutes. I’d done New York in 5 hours 38 minutes and thought my extra touch of fitness, plus experience from my rookie outing, would help me. This experience amounted to not getting stuck at on-course Portaloo stops for too long and not veering off course, thereby adding extra metres. I failed miserably on the second count, running even further in London than New York. By the end, both of these factors cost me seven minutes.
Anyway, off I went. I knew exactly what pace to run and had been hyper-disciplined in New York. The reasons for me going too fast in London for the first 5-6 kms elude me. It might even be that I felt good. From around 10 kms I settled into my perfect race pace. The Moony Shuffle.
In both my marathons, I’ve had a deal with myself that I don’t want to be beaten by people in fancy dress. It was a blow to be passed by a witch carrying a broom. As the day went on, I passed a brain, a tooth, a tub of Vaseline, a tub of Tums, several rhinos, and a man playing an accordion. At one stage just before halfway, I heard the spectators greeting Elvis, who was apparently coming up on my left shoulder. Didn’t get me. Eventually I caught the witch. She’d given me a good run. I slyly slid past in case she saw me and put a spell on me.
Tower Bridge
From the late teens in kms, I started to find it hard. New York had seduced me into thinking a marathon was all about a metronomic pace, and that was how it went. But today… Various parts of my body were hurting, and something about the heat was dragging on me. My left hip flexor was not my friend, as much as I tried to block the pain out.
By the time I reached Tower Bridge, I wasn’t in a great place mentally. Luckily for me, my friends Yannick and Chris were waiting for me at the bridge exit and gave me a much-needed boost. “I’m dying on my arse” was the only comment I could make to them. Onwards.
Turning east from the bridge, I passed the official halfway point, and could see runners streaming the other way, on the road to the finish. Including a guy with a fridge on his back. He looked how I felt. I looked past him and saw the 22-mile marker, and at that point I felt the next nine miles to get there would be tough.
I’ll say something unpopular at this point. I simply didn’t enjoy the route or the crowds at the London Marathon anything as I did in New York. I know it’s a home crowd and historic sights, and all that. But the route and atmosphere were nothing like my New York experience. You can possibly say that because this was harder, my brain was reading it differently. But for me, New York every time.
London Marathon: The Death Zone
Deep into east London now. Millwall, Blackwall and names like that flashed past my eyes. We went into an underpass, and it felt like a descent into a dark, damp hell. If hell was littered with gel wrappers and water bottles. I slowed and walked for a moment. The first time I’d done that in two marathons. Another km or so later, as I came up a rise, I did the same again.
But so what? That’s sensible, right? In my mind it was the beginning of the end. I was going to gradually slow and stop. Everything hurt by then, and I felt tired, and I saw my heart rate edging down. Later, when I looked at my pace chart for the race, I saw that kms 24 and 25 were the slowest.
It went through my mind that I would be crushed if I gave up. All the months of training for the London Marathon would have come to nothing. I would have to explain to everyone that I didn’t get it done. They’d be nice to me, but in their minds they’d be thinking ‘old man’s past it.’ You can see I wasn’t in a Buddhist state of mind by then.
Something clicked, and I decided I could get this done, and I locked back into a rhythm. Still not pleasant, but I was moving again.
The Home Stretch
I reached the 31 km mark and realised this was as far as I’d gone in training. It was all new territory from here. The part you can’t train. I looked at my Garmin watch for about the 1,000th time and did a calculation. I could probably hit my target of 5 hours 29 minutes if I stuck to the steady pace I trained at. Let’s go.
Dehydration was taking its toll now, and I was grabbing as much hydration as possible from the roadside. I had to make a quick decision on a splash and dash at one of the Portaloos, and I went for it, as it had been close to four hours since the last pitstop. I figured if I did that, there’d be no more distractions. Or excuses.
I vaguely remember Commercial Road as vibrant, passing through a noisy, colourful LGBT zone. A guy shouted ‘come on big fella!’ in my ear as I drifted close to the barrier. But I was largely in my own world. I missed my Puresport colleagues, and I know they’re a noisy bunch.
On to the Embankment and my friends Donna and Pete gave me a big shout. The done thing is to pull over and get a selfie, but I was afraid if I stopped, I wouldn’t start again. Then I heard a familiar voice and two men shouting; it was my wife Mish. Close to home now. Somewhere, some minutes had evaporated, and it was touch and go for my target time.
The crowds had been stacked for miles and miles, and the Embankment was a sea of humanity. I just couldn’t connect with the crowd at all. A lot of people were walking now, and it was tough to weave through them.
I was coming up around St James Park and could see Buckingham Palace. In my head, I was pushing hard now. In the real world, my pace was sluggish. Although, to be fair to me, km 40 was my fastest of the day. It’s all relative, I guess.
The final 385 yards down The Mall, and some people were grinding hard, me included. Some were celebrating and taking selfies while running backwards. Not for me. Head down, maximum shuffle speed. I was giving it everything, but when I watched a video of me crossing the line… l could have been picked off by any number of fancy-dress runners at that point.
5 hours, 29 minutes, 17 seconds.
Did it!
A gratifying end to a tough, tough day.
Still didn’t smile.
Aftermath
I had my medal draped around my neck by one of the brilliant volunteers. Hats off to the thousands of London Marathon volunteers who give up their whole weekend to make the event run so smoothly.
I was a part of history. This was the largest marathon ever, with 56,640 runners; indeed I have run in the two largest marathons in history. This event also saw the two-hour barrier broken by two runners, with the top three men all breaking the old world record, and the first woman breaking the world record too. Sabastian Sawe finished in 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 30 seconds. If you did the course on a Lime electric scooter, with the throttle nailed open, he would have beaten you by a minute.
I decked a bottle of water in one, then began to trudge to the end of The Mall to meet Mish. I stopped and leaned on a fence for a moment. And couldn’t move for ten minutes. The brain was sending messages to my body, and my body was saying, “Yeah, right.”
After I got my shuffle on, the next challenge was to step down from the kerb to the road. I attracted an audience of Lucozade sampling staff then. They were eager to help, and I was eager to be left alone. Eventually, with the help of a lampost, I navigated the three inch drop.
Three minutes later, there was my welcoming committee. Mish, then Darren and Donna. I may have smiled around then. If I did, it was the first time all day. The London Marathon 2026 was the hardest thing I’d ever done voluntarily.
What Next?
When I finished New York Marathon, I immediately said, “I’m doing another.” When I finished London Marathon, I immediately said, “Never again.” And I meant it. I still mean it.
That’s my last dance.
0.02% of people in my age group do a marathon. I don’t know how many do two marathons, but you can bet it will be an even tinier percentage. I was 421st of 593 men in my age group. As a 6’5″ and 101kg diesel with a touch of wear and tear, I’ll take that.
Despite a rough London Marathon, I feel incredibly blessed. I took up running in late 2024. To have run two majors since then is special. 1.3m people have applied for the 2027 version of the event. It’s not easy to get into one, let alone two majors.
I was pleased to raise £3,937 for Cardiomyopathy UK as well. That’s over £10,000 raised for charity in my two marathons. Another reason I’m blessed. That people have the faith to back me, and that I can help those less fortunate than I am.
But I’m done now. I’ve logged 1,600 kms of running in my pursuit of two marathons. With osteoarthritis in both knees and the likely onset in my left hip, it’s time to take a new approach.
While my fitness is very high and my cardio on a par with much younger men, I want to play the long game. It’s not just about the years; it’s about the years in good health. Muscle mass and mobility are higher on my agenda than the ability to grind out a 42km run. Three gym sessions a week, plus one or two 5km runs a week is my target. I may well mix in some rucking, as previous outings have shown it to be a surprisingly good workout compared to running.
I’m looking forward to the next stage of my fitness journey. No goals this time. Although I reckon dipping under 27 minutes for a 5 km looks good for my age group.
London Marathon (Johnny Cash)
London Marathon, you’ve been livin’ hell to me
You’ve blistered me since nineteen sixty three
I’ve seen ’em come and go and I’ve seen them die
And long ago I stopped askin’ why
London Marathon, I hate every inch of you.
You’ve cut me and you scarred me through and through.
And I’ll walk out a wiser weaker man;
Mister Sawe, you can’t understand.
London Marathon, what good do you think you do?
Do you think I’ll be different when you’re through?
You bend my heart and mind and you warp my soul,
And your stone walls turn my blood a little cold.
London Marathon, may you rot and burn in hell.
May Tower Bridge fall and may I live to tell.
May all the world forget you ever stood.
And may all the world regret you did no good.
London Marathon, I hate every inch of you.
Great read. Amazing effort
Well done again Stephen.