From the moment I signed up for this event, I couldn’t wait for October to arrive. In the eight months of training I learned so much about my body, my priorities and most importantly my strength of mind. Each season and distance posed complications, challanges and bizarre solutions that as a short distance runner I’d never anticipated.
Anybody from Merseyside will tell you that it’s not just water that separates Liverpool and Wirral.There’s a definite divide and a stark shift in atmosphere from the moment you reach the other side. Never had it ever been so palpable than the day I ran the Liverpool Marathon.
It was a sunny, clear start which was a relief. We were hemmed into the starting pens nervous and fidgety for 50 mins after the official start time. During this delay I gave my shiny new gadget a final test...disaster! It froze and worse still all its alarms and beeps all went off at once! Everybody around me turned around and laughed. Several of my neighbours gave it a poke and a prod but to no avail. Eventually, I conceded technological defeat and buried the watch in my emergency top. Gadget lesson #1 make sure you have a few outings with your new toy before you take it on the most important race of your life! It was almost worth it for the ice-breaker though.
After a cool reception due to the hanging around at the start, crowd support really warmed up at mile 6, New Brighton. 1 gel, 2 water bottles and a zero tab later, my marathon partner and I were ready to part ways. It was at this point my mind could wander freely, and go steady. Secretly relieved, I plodded on deciding how to entertain myself and take my mind off mile counting.
Looking around at the smatterings of blue, yellow, purple and pink charity singlets bobbing up and down around the grey mass of independents and club runners and occasional fancy dress characters, I’d not really considered how much this Marathon would mean to those running for causes. It wasn’t until a young woman in pink war-paint running for Cancer Research overtook at Birkenhead Ferry Terminal. The back of her shirt read, “For Mum and Dad xxxxxxx” The thought of losing both parents at such a young age stirred my emotions and I found myself truly rooting for her and all the charity runners with the stories that came along with them.
The Tunnel was longer than everybody anticipated. The faster runners took off and the slower runners lagged behind, leaving a sparse group of us in-betweeners spread out in the drafty dampness - very surreal.
Nothing prepared me for the ripping welcome as I reached the light at the other side! The samba band kicked out an infectious beat at the opening lifting my spirits and my pace. As I turned the corner for the riverfront exit, the Liverbirds came into full view framed by happy faces and clapping hands filling every possible edge of the tunnel exit. The support was overwhelming, making the business district a joy to run through. Crowds 5, 6 heads deep lined the streets and I couldn’t help but smile back. It was a comfort to know however grizzly the next 10 miles would be, there’d be an electrifying crowd to come back to!
The dreaded hill on Upper Parliament Street turned out to be a breeze, especially with the brass-band playing the Rocky theme at the road-side. At the top, the heavens opened and wouldn’t stop throughout the duration of the parks; the toughest part of the race. It was in this wet, leafy labyrinth I was expecting to encounter “The Wall” At mile 19, fed up with gels and ready for natural goodness, I scoffed my battered emergency banana in the hope of beating the wall. It worked!
The home stretch was amazing and I couldn’t quite believe I’d made it so far without stopping. The finish line was never visible until the last minute at which point I finished with a glorious sprint finish. 5.07:41, twenty minutes faster than my target – possibly due to my fantastic marathon partner who got me off to a speedy start! My watch never did stop bleeping, infact as I hobbled down to the kitchen for a midnight drink, it was still bleeping. The next day I vowed never to do a marathon again and signed up for the Great Northern Swim to give my arms a good thrashing for a change. I’m sure I’ll do another marathon one day though, just not any time soon!
By Sarah Castro (Cambridge U&R)
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