It was the monotony of it that got to me first. I was going well until the sun came up about an hour into the race. I knew from the Sahara challenge that it was going to hit me when the sun came up, but I’d forgotten how much. Just pushing on became hard, the sweat was pouring off me. At that temperature it’s hard to drink enough to keep hydrated. Round and round we ran, trying to forget the boredom of the track, trying and failing. Soon my legs were starting to feel like lead, well a mix of lead and jelly. Either way they didn’t want to move, I found I had to stop more and more for water and to stretch.
So we pushed on, finally I reached the last few laps, the end was in sight now, I pushed out increasing my pace as I cross the line for the start of my final lap my legs gave way, I’d hit the wall. In typical military fashion my colleagues who happened to be passing at the time laughed and asked me why on earth I was doing it! As always it was the thought of the money for charity and my own personal pride that pushed me on, from somewhere my final push came and I was off, not just running but breaking into a sprint, I rounded the last corner, internally I created a crowd cheering me on, I pictured my family egging me on, the hairs on the back of my neck stood to as I sprinted across the finish line – and collapsed into a heap. I’d done it, my first marathon. Unfortunately not in the time I was hoping for, I completed it in 4 hours 2 mins, if only I’d pushed myself to a sub 4 time.