They say you never forget your first marathon, for many reasons, good and bad. Unfortunately for me my first marathon came to me through accident as someone pulled out of a charity place through a training injury and I was called up as reserve with just 5 weeks to train before the big day. The marathon was The London Marathon, 26.2 Miles and the year was 1999. I was delighted to get the chance to run before the 21st Century and in my countries largest iconic City of London.

The charity was the D.S.A Downs Syndrome Association and their support was excellent. A pre marathon pasta meal the night before the race and a post race meeting with facilities to shower and try to freshen up.

With limited time to train I was fortunate enough to have still been playing semi-professional football so my fitness was good and I always felt as though I could run a sub 4 hour marathon. How wrong could I be, as time got closer I managed to run 18 miles just 2 weeks before the marathon weekend, my preparation was not good however I soon found myself at the start line and I knew I was going to have to dig deep to get through the 26 miles.

The experience and build-up to the London Marathon is so special, registering and getting your number a day or so before, wandering round the sponsors and sport companies stalls and receiving the masses of freebie handouts of energy gels to having a deep massage is a must and certainly puts you in the mood prior to the run.

As I left my hotel on the Sunday morning within seconds I caught a waft of the strong smell of deep heat floating through the air, I too was deep heated up from ankle to arm-pit and my nipples were Vaselined in anticipation of the infamous nipple rub.

I would strongly recommend to anyone running their first marathon or London Marathon,  give yourself plenty of time to prepare and to arrive at the destination without having to worry about arriving in time. It seemed as though there was a river of people all heading in the same direction, Blackheath was my destination, the underground was free to participants and everyone was buzzing.

I amazingly arrived at my destination, and suddenly thousands of people stood around on mobile phones, people in costume, hot air balloons were floating in the sky, loud music pumped out from a mobile truck while helicopters flew overhead no doubt reporting on the small human ants below all wearing tracksuits and shorts getting prepared for the 9.30 kick-off or more commonly known as the masses race.

Probably around 20-30,000 people huddled together on a road with 20-30 people thick wide and all looking towards an archway that  would see us to the start line. Suddenly there was a countdown from 30, 29, 28, 27, the crowd in front began edging forward so we followed, a few steps then a pause, then it was the final ten seconds and a massive cheer as we were off…………but still edging slowly forward and we were still quite some distance from the arch and the official start line.

I looked down at my feet, my trainers had the micro-chip laced onto them, the chip was going to record my times once I had crossed the matting at the start line and at certain milestone locations. The road was littered with tracksuit tops, bottoms and silver foil space warmer wraps blowing about where participants began to strip off. I looked up and we were officially jogging, through the arch and a sharp turn left towards the arched balloons and the loud consistent bleeps of micro-chips recording the start of tens of thousands of runners. I suddenly felt blessed to be part of such a historical event, a race that was created by former Olympian Chris Brasher way back in 1981 had entered it’s official 18th Anniversary and I was part of it.

My pace was slow and I took in as much of the cheering and crowd celebrations, the music, the whistling, the noise overhead from the helicopters still circling and then I was into my pace and my race had begun, it wasn’t long before a gap appeared in the roadway to run at my chosen pace and into a steady speed that felt like normality to my training. In my mind I remember many people telling me of the initial start and to not get wrapped up in the fast pace of others and burn myself out in the first 10 miles. I laughed to myself as at this pace I would be lucky to break into a sweat but then things once again opened up and the pace was faster.

I will never forget the amount of people supporting and cheering us, the pubs en-route had live bands performing outside, brass bands, steel bands, singers and even church choirs belting out tunes and songs that have great rhythm to coincide with your running. It’s amazing how much it helps, you suddenly find yourself bouncing along to the tunes. The hands reaching out from the watchers in the street hoping you will tap them as you run by and then I arrived at my first water station, the floor was littered with plastic cups and support marshals arms stretched out offering cups of water to each runner.

I reached the 10 mile marker and was delighted with my time of 69 minutes and as every marathon runner knows it’s so hard to imagine running another 16 miles or consistently for 26.2 miles or for nearly 4 hours at a 9 minute pace but that’s what was ahead. The next 10 miles my time began to slow dramatically as I recorded a 1 hour 37 minute half marathon time but the miles ahead were to become tougher and much slower. It is somewhat dis-heartening when just after 2 hours an announcement was made over the speakers that the first male Abdelkader El Mouaziz of Morocco had crossed the finish line, an amazing finish time. Considering the inaugural London Marathon back in 1981 had just 7,741 entrants, of whom 6,255 were to finish the 26.2 mile finish times had not changed considerably from the 2 hours 11 minutes to Abdelkader’s time of 2 hours 7 minutes and 57 seconds. However, the amount of finishers had changed substantially.

There are a million and one questions and answers one could ask and seek about the World’s most popular and famous marathon in the world but there was only one fact that mattered to me, “What was the average marathon male finish time?” I had researched it just days before leaving for London, 4 hours 20 minutes, it was to be my goal and a time I was heading to smash and to set a PB or Personal Record (PR).

As the distance increased each mile seemed further, each stride more tiring and the surroundings became a slight blur, the crowd were inspiring though, calling out runners names who were clever enough to put them on the front of their running tops and for those that were struggling bursts of applause broke out giving each more reason to not stop and simply push on.

I was approaching the 20 mile marker after passing through the Isle of Dogs renowned for being a boring and quieter area of the marathon and I was in pain, I was beginning to think of the 5 weeks of training and knowing it was never going to be enough and now the price was being paid, tenfold. I latched onto a runner who was running at a similar pace as myself and I started to chat with him, he was older than myself and was running with Pink laces, in memory of his Daughter who had recently passed away from Cancer, we shared our running pain and the next few miles passed a little easier before he said he was stopping to walk the last few miles, I told him I wanted to try and achieve a sub 4 hour marathon and wished him all the best.

Running alongside the Thames and across The Tower of London Bridge the crowds here were like no other, 10 deep in places, people cheering, clapping and all for us, running 42.195 kilometres (26 miles and 385 yards), I could not wish the finish line sooner, people were walking, jogging slowly, limping and some were still passing me at pace, suddenly a group of 8 runners passed me and one with a patch on his back saying sub 4 hour runner, I tried to change my running pattern and keep up with the group but it was all just too much, in my mind I thought I might still have an outside chance of finishing a sub 4 hour marathon so I pushed on determined not to stop running or at least jogging at pace.

My head was down, my nipples tingled, my legs were numb, my knees ached, my head was spinning, my eyes burning from sweat and yet I was still running, my wife and family were all waiting for me to cross the finish line, my first marathon, it drove me on knowing they had travelled over 150 miles to be there for me. The crowds got even bigger as I came down the mall, it was in sight, one that I along with thousands of others had been waiting to see, 26 miles, the cheering, applause was louder than ever, I suddenly felt emotional, I wanted to cry, I had ran in the same footsteps as many great sporting greats, legends, I turned to face Buckingham Palace and ran alongside the famous fountain, I wanted the last 385 yards to last, despite the pain, the sweat and now tears, I was soaking up the crowd, the appreciation.

I was in the home straight, and my eyes locked onto the clock directly above the finish line, 04.01.28 secs I had missed the opportunity of running under 4 hours, my heart sank, I was pleased to have ran the whole 26 miles with such little training but inside I was gutted, for years I had watched so many running across the line in the comfort of my home on a Sunday, either in bed or while preparing a Sunday roast with the famous BBC music wonderful commentary, I raised my arms in jubilation as my chip recorded the data and official time, I was greeted by a marathon official, congratulated and presented with my medal placed over my head, I looked down at it and I smiled, it looked fantastic, I had finally earned an official London Marathon Medal. As I made my way through a walkway of barriers I was handed a goodie bag, I looked inside and a T-Shirt, a mars chocolate bar and water bottle sat along with other bits and pieces including a flyer for a forthcoming marathon, the last thing I wanted to see at this moment in time.

My legs began to seize up, my knees were painful, my hips ached but in my heart I had loved every step, every bit of the pain was part of the challenge. My family greeted me with big smiles with looks of concern and my first words that came from my mouth were “Never Again”………yet how wrong could I be, my biggest regret was I hadn’t ran a marathon sooner in life, but at the age of 29, I guess everyone has to start at some point in life. Little was I to know that the following decade of my life would take me to some amazing life experiences, sharing moments that money can’t buy and into the record books, but they are all different stories of my somewhat ordinary life. A year later I would also be back in London and after that sub 4 hour marathon that had slipped through my hands by seconds.