You can read Jonathan鈥檚 marathon training journey via links further down – and support his chosen charity DEBRA, at.
It all started with a run for the train.
I didn鈥檛 even make it; what a fool. But in the 20-minute wait for the next service, the platform at Woking Station filled with runners destined for the world鈥檚 greatest race and there was a buzz in the air.
Following an announcement about reporting suspicious packages, one gentleman in drag – pink hair, curlers and exposed plastic bottom – held his phone aloft: 鈥淚鈥檓 texting them now!鈥�
The journey into and across London – sans phone – was a period for introspection (and there was plenty more of that to come). Many of those headed for Blackheath station and the start line were also running their first marathon and were unsure of what to expect; several had also suffered injuries in training along the way.
From Blackheath to Tower Bridge
I went in wave 7 of the starters and the first few miles were amazing. The crowds – the defining memory of my marathon – were electric: it was like running on air. I ran on the side and every kid (and grown-up) who held out their hand got a high five – except the rascal who pulled his hand away!
I learned later that my best friend was concerned that I鈥檇 gone off too quickly with 8m30s miles (although I鈥檓 not sure the laughing emoji conveys much genuine worry鈥�) but I genuinely couldn鈥檛 have run any more slowly. Looking at the elevation profile, it鈥檚 fairly downhill.
The first landmark – the Cutty Sark – was 10k in and I was there in what seemed a flash. Feeling the first bite in my quads, I lowered the pace a little for the six miles to Tower Bridge – where I鈥檇 been promised the experience of a lifetime by Nikki Chamberlain and Jason Taylor.
It seemed to take an age to arrive; but when it did, it did not disappoint. Turning right on to the bridge, there was a wall of noise – people screaming 鈥楪o on, Jon!鈥�, a call to arms I heard hundreds of times during the race – and the grin permanently etched on to my mug up to the Cutty Sark was back!
From Tower Bridge to Canary Wharf
Along the Shadwell stretch, we could see those who鈥檇 set off before us heading back from the east – 22 miles in – on the other side of the railing. I joked with someone about getting a leg-up over, but then remembered the chip in my bib would know I鈥檇 been naughty. There was no getting around it: it was 26.2 miles or bust.
The DEBRA butterfly skin charity supporters cheered me on further down then, in the crazy loop around the east – approaching Canary Wharf – I finally saw my brother-in-law. Two huge lifts in a few miles! My wife and kids had been unable to join me (our new family car has gone kaput), so it was down to my host for the weekend alone to support me. I鈥檇 missed him on the Shadwell stretch and it meant the world to see that grinning face. I was entering unknown territory: due to my ankle injury I鈥檝e never run more than 16 miles before (although that was up and down moors).
I am sorry that this blog is turning out to be a timeline. Yet every runner, from winners Kelvin Kiptum and Sifan Hassan to the final gentleman who crossed the line (see below), embarks upon a journey – the preparation, the anticipation, the first miles and, sooner or later, the hard miles. The east loop, as I predicted the day before, was where I was forced to dig deep inside myself for inspiration.
One of the greatest moments of every London Marathon – your 2023 final finisher 馃檶
We鈥檙e in awe of your determination to finish what you started.
鈥� TCS London Marathon (@LondonMarathon)
From Canary Wharf to Buck House
Nikki said last week: 鈥淏efore you run, think about why you are doing this, why it matters to you. And then save it – if things start to feel really tough, remind yourself of your ‘why’ and hang on to that until the finish!鈥�
Never was a truer word spoken. The 鈥榳hy鈥� for me was my cousin Mark, lost to us these last 22 years; as soon as I won a place and was given the option of supporting a cause, it was always going to be EB charity DEBRA. Mark鈥檚 delicate skin would never have allowed him to run a marathon – so when I was running on air; gazing ahead at the looming Tower Bridge; and grinning happily with every 鈥楪o on, Jon!鈥�, I鈥檇 tell him: 鈥淟ook at this, Marky. Can you believe it?鈥�
When it got darker – and I don鈥檛 mean in the underpass where the drummers deafened us all – he was there again. I鈥檒l leave it at that – and to say thank you to all those who donated and took our total raised for people living with EB to nearly 拢1,300 at the last count.
The crowds on the return Shadwell stretch, as I seem to have coined it, also helped immensely. With participants now frequently walking and falling by the wayside with injury, cramp and, in a few cases, something more serious – their calls were more urgent: 鈥�You can do this! Keep going, Jon!鈥� And one sign – Smile: remember, you paid for this!
Somewhere in those miles I passed 鈥楩ridget Jones鈥� – – and offered a word of encouragement as he walked along. My pace had by now dropped so low that a few minutes later, he only went and passed me back! I believe he managed the feat, finishing in a remarkable 4:52.
The last three miles were as long as anything I have ever known. Everything ached. Quads, hamstrings, calves, ankles, shoulders like glass. My mantra – it鈥檚 not supposed to be easy – was on repeat, and my only goal was to run to the end. Not even the crowds could conjure much in the way of a smile – more of a grimace as I high-fived and gave the old thumbs-up.
Past Westminster and right and we were in the final half-mile: the crowds at St James鈥檚 Park were incredible. How far is it? was my only thought. Buckingham Palace on the left, right on to The Mall, we鈥檙e going to break 4hrs30m – and to the sound of my favourite track, Papua New Guinea from The Future Sound of London! The stars aligned.
Not so – my Garmin had lied to me! A massive arch proclaimed 鈥極nly 385 yards to go!鈥� even as the watch told me I鈥檇 passed 26.2 miles.
It didn鈥檛 matter. I plodded the final stretch to cross the finish line, as so many heroes had before me – of all abilities, shapes and sizes – and you鈥檇 think I鈥檇 have spread the arms; punched the air; maybe even done a Mobot.
But no – as my entire family watched enraptured on iPlayer (unbeknown to me), they were treated to a different kind of celebration. 鈥淲hy were you fiddling with your watch?鈥� my wife asked later. To record the time accurately, dear鈥�
My actual time was 4:31:26, if you take out the three wee stops!
Congratulations to Nikki Chamberlain, Nina Sawetz and Simon Moss, all of whom should be proud of their achievement in finishing the marathon – while Nikki ran around 3hrs30m and Simon 4hrs!
I did it! From my first ever 10k in Jan, to the London Marathon yesterday!
Thank you to everyone that supported me and helped raise over 拢3,400 for 馃檶馃徏馃檶馃徏 Incredible 馃ぉ
(It was quite a long way)
Last donations 鉃★笍
— Nina Sawetz (@NinaSawetz)
It simply remains for me to write: thank you, London, for one of the most awe-inspiring and emotional experiences of my life.