Previously: Seven Parts of How (not) to Train for a Marathon, ending with my running gear stuck in British Airways' luggage system with 24 hours to go. Dig in, and enjoy yourselves...
Saturday April 12th
It's Marathon Expo day! Yes, before they let you loose on the course, you actually have to turn up in person to prove you're really who you say you are - I suppose otherwise you could send Wilson Kipsang along to run for you and then claim bragging rights on his time, or something. Anyway, there's a whole running expo at London's ExCeL centre with clothes to buy and other races to sign up to, and minor running celebrities to meet, and that's where I'm off to today.
Karin kindly offers to stay at home and wait for my missing luggage to turn up, so my sister Helen decides to come along and share the excitement with me, which we double by getting there on the awesome-but-ultimately-fairly-pointless Emirates Airline, the cable car that straddles the Thames by the O2 in the world's most rubbish ski resort.
Getting inside, there's a number to be collected, and a photo-document of extreme terror to be taken - looks like this is really happening now.
There's one other essential thing to be done, and that's getting my name printed on my T-shirt for tomorrow. I've read that having people call out your name as you go is one of the most inspiring things about the London Marathon, and frankly, I need all the inspiration I can get. A top tip I also picked up, though, suggests that there are going to be a heck of a lot of people with your name, so you might want to think about using a nickname or something else unique. It is thus, that I come to be the only "Jamesy" on the course on the day - that I spot, at least. This proves to be A Good Decision.
The main reasons for coming now complete, we figure we may as well check out the rest of this massive show, so I go and look at overpriced London Marathon merchandise, obviously buying a commemorative T-Shirt (in case I don't make it to the end and ever get my hands on the real one, perhaps), and there are nice "inspirational" things to do which have nothing to do with advertising any of the LM sponsors, obviously...
To be honest, being here with all these people kind of stresses me out, and stressing myself out is the last thing I'm meant to be doing today, so we don't stay long - but there is just time to catch up quickly with some people from the @Ukrunchat Twitter community that has helped me so much during my training. Unfortunately I upset Jeff by picking a 'Team Blue' shirt, but that can't be helped - red just isn't my colour...
We manage to leave without signing up to any more races or buying any new shoes (tempting though both are) - apparently some people buy new shoes at this event and then try to run the marathon in them the next day. You don't need to be a runner to know that's a terrible idea - remember how much your Clarks rubbed you on the first day of school each year?
So, it's time to leave now, via Decathlon at Surrey Quays, where I buy some precautionary replacement clothes for tomorrow in case my suitcase doesn't arrive (luckily I have a second pair of broken-in running shoes for just such an occasion), and back to the flat, where the suitcase duly arrives shortly after I get in. I'd normally be annoyed, but the running clothes in this bag have lived with me through the high times and the low, were my only company and solace out on the lonely road when things got rough, and, frankly, smell a bit like me, so I'd worry if anyone else found them and thought about approaching them without a ten foot pole.
There's time for a modicum of rest and chilling, before my parents arrive (no, I don't mean that they bring an end to the chilling...) and we all head out for a celebratory dinner at Zizzi, which, serving bread and pasta, the night before the city's main running event, is rather busy.
We eat, drink, and are merry - no vino for me, though, I can't imagine anything less conducive to a good run other than perhaps running over your foot with a lawnmower.
And before I know it, it's 10pm, I try on my gear for one last time to make sure I'm happy, and then lay it all out nicely ready for the morning. Charity T-shirt, base layer (more about that next time), shorts, non-rubbing pants, Bodyglide, number attached with Marathon Clips, headphones (quite possibly the most essential part) and heart rate watch, which doesn't seem that important at the time but as it turns out probably stops me having a cardiac arrest on the day, so is a fairly good call in retrospect.
I go to bed, and try to sleep. I fail for a very long time. Apparently this is normal. I don't care, it's still annoying.
Next time: The Race. The actual Marathon. No, really.
 |
| I don't really know why I've put this here, I just liked it and hadn't found anywhere else for it. Feel free to ignore, although it does kind of sum up what happened to my training at the end... |
Saturday April 12th
It's Marathon Expo day! Yes, before they let you loose on the course, you actually have to turn up in person to prove you're really who you say you are - I suppose otherwise you could send Wilson Kipsang along to run for you and then claim bragging rights on his time, or something. Anyway, there's a whole running expo at London's ExCeL centre with clothes to buy and other races to sign up to, and minor running celebrities to meet, and that's where I'm off to today.
Karin kindly offers to stay at home and wait for my missing luggage to turn up, so my sister Helen decides to come along and share the excitement with me, which we double by getting there on the awesome-but-ultimately-fairly-pointless Emirates Airline, the cable car that straddles the Thames by the O2 in the world's most rubbish ski resort.
Getting inside, there's a number to be collected, and a photo-document of extreme terror to be taken - looks like this is really happening now.
 |
| I look strangely at peace with my fate, actually. |
There's one other essential thing to be done, and that's getting my name printed on my T-shirt for tomorrow. I've read that having people call out your name as you go is one of the most inspiring things about the London Marathon, and frankly, I need all the inspiration I can get. A top tip I also picked up, though, suggests that there are going to be a heck of a lot of people with your name, so you might want to think about using a nickname or something else unique. It is thus, that I come to be the only "Jamesy" on the course on the day - that I spot, at least. This proves to be A Good Decision.
The main reasons for coming now complete, we figure we may as well check out the rest of this massive show, so I go and look at overpriced London Marathon merchandise, obviously buying a commemorative T-Shirt (in case I don't make it to the end and ever get my hands on the real one, perhaps), and there are nice "inspirational" things to do which have nothing to do with advertising any of the LM sponsors, obviously...
 |
| Write your predicted time on the Virgin Money wall of fame/shame! |
 |
| Write your touching message of inspiration under the giant Adidas logo! |
 |
| Oh, ok, that is quite nice actually. Thanks, Helen! |
 |
| Watch someone who used to be in Emmerdale singing a song about marathons! (No, I don't know why, either.) |
To be honest, being here with all these people kind of stresses me out, and stressing myself out is the last thing I'm meant to be doing today, so we don't stay long - but there is just time to catch up quickly with some people from the @Ukrunchat Twitter community that has helped me so much during my training. Unfortunately I upset Jeff by picking a 'Team Blue' shirt, but that can't be helped - red just isn't my colour...
We manage to leave without signing up to any more races or buying any new shoes (tempting though both are) - apparently some people buy new shoes at this event and then try to run the marathon in them the next day. You don't need to be a runner to know that's a terrible idea - remember how much your Clarks rubbed you on the first day of school each year?
So, it's time to leave now, via Decathlon at Surrey Quays, where I buy some precautionary replacement clothes for tomorrow in case my suitcase doesn't arrive (luckily I have a second pair of broken-in running shoes for just such an occasion), and back to the flat, where the suitcase duly arrives shortly after I get in. I'd normally be annoyed, but the running clothes in this bag have lived with me through the high times and the low, were my only company and solace out on the lonely road when things got rough, and, frankly, smell a bit like me, so I'd worry if anyone else found them and thought about approaching them without a ten foot pole.
There's time for a modicum of rest and chilling, before my parents arrive (no, I don't mean that they bring an end to the chilling...) and we all head out for a celebratory dinner at Zizzi, which, serving bread and pasta, the night before the city's main running event, is rather busy.
 |
| Part of the final carb load... followed by another BOBOP. |
 |
| Cheers! Hope you don't die! Etc... |
We eat, drink, and are merry - no vino for me, though, I can't imagine anything less conducive to a good run other than perhaps running over your foot with a lawnmower.
And before I know it, it's 10pm, I try on my gear for one last time to make sure I'm happy, and then lay it all out nicely ready for the morning. Charity T-shirt, base layer (more about that next time), shorts, non-rubbing pants, Bodyglide, number attached with Marathon Clips, headphones (quite possibly the most essential part) and heart rate watch, which doesn't seem that important at the time but as it turns out probably stops me having a cardiac arrest on the day, so is a fairly good call in retrospect.
 |
| How happy I look, how full of dreams and ambitions.. if only I knew... |
I go to bed, and try to sleep. I fail for a very long time. Apparently this is normal. I don't care, it's still annoying.
Next time: The Race. The actual Marathon. No, really.
No comments:
Post a Comment