The 2012 London Marathon

First things first. The sun was shining, it wasn’t too cold, so off we went to catch up with our friend Anne, who along with husband Alain had flown into London from Coffs Harbour (apparently it’s some upmarket place in Australia).

Alain and his mate George (the Hummingbird coffee king who lives in Christchurch) were battle ready for the big one.

This is Alain’s ninth marathon, not a bad effort for a guy getting close to sixty.

George was a first timer, though he had competed in a number of half marathons.

There are a number of basic ground rules when you are turning up to a race with something like 38,000 competitors and 200,000 plus supporters, all of whom seemed to have congregated in the general vicinity of St James Park.

Get there early, like maybe three hours before your favourite runner is due to sprint, saunter or stumble past you.

Grab a possie hard up against a railing so you have both a great view and something to lean against.

Don’t give any ground. You have fought hard for this position. Don’t give an inch to any late-comers, especially your softly spoken elderly women who are forever asking you if it would be OK for their precious grand-daughter to stand directly in front of you.

And, especially don’t take any nonsense from toffee-nosed well-dressed female socialites who try to worm their way into your direct line of view.

And last but not least, for God’s sake don’t drink anything.

If you were forced to find a toilet the experience would be an absolute disaster.

As for the race, it was a fantastic experience and one we will take in again.

Drama, heroes, runners in wild get-ups, chaps having massive cramp attacks right in front of you, wild cheering, it was just brilliant and yes, everyone’s a winner.

And as for the trip home, getting from St James’s Park to the Westminster Tube would be best described as a test of endurance.

We didn’t care about the delays; hundreds of thousands of us just went with the flow.  

And as for our friends Alain and George?

Well Alain, having aimed for 4 hrs 20 min managed to hit the tape maybe twenty minutes further down the track. A very fine effort.

I think George’s wife Sue had reservations about her husband’s ability to complete the course without blowing a valve. She needn’t have worried.

This gutsy Christchurch Boy’s High old boy is built of the stuff that makes Cantabrians great. George started off in second gear, never changed his revs, never slowed to a walk and hit the tape in front of Buck House in 5hrs 47min. Now there’s an effort to admire.

Post match dinner for all at a great Turkish restaurant in St Christopher’s Place just next to the Bond Street tube.

What a great day!