After cycling for 9 hours and 115 miles, how do you recover from your exertions?
Of course, travel into Central London and spend the day with hundreds of thousands of spectators watching 35,000 runners tackle the London Marathon.
It was a wonderful day. Inspirational, motivating and humbling. So many people enduring pain in the fantastic cause of raising money to help those less fortunate than themselves.
For me, it was doubly special as I met up with friends I hadn't seen for around 20 years.
I travelled out to Canary Wharf where Scope had set up two cheering points at mile 15 and mile 18. 3 miles apart for the runners, but for us there was just the City Pride pub separating the two cheering points, so it was great to spot your family or friends running at mile 15 and then 20 minutes or so later to spot them at mile 18, staggering and on their knees.
The Scope people were lovely, very friendly and they even shared their chocolate bars with me and fetched me a coffee. I think I must have looked gaunt and in need of a good feed after the cycle the day before.
My dear old friend, Roger Vaughan, then arrived. We were friends at Worcester College in the late 80's and shared many a happy time on and off the hockey pitches of the college and the West Midlands. It was fantastic to see him and to catch up.
Then the wheelchair athletes, elite women, elite men and the remainder of the field started streaming past. The winning man ran it in around 2 hours 5 minutes. I cycled slower than that. Enough said. Supreme athletes and ridiculously fast. I doubt many of us could run at their speed for half a mile, let alone 26.2 miles.
I was supporting my uncle Paul, who was running his second marathon. I managed to see him at mile 15, looking strong. Indeed, he recorded a good time - 4hrs 25mins and looked like he had just popped down the shops when he finished. Not bad for 55!
Next up was my boss, Rick Johns. It was Rick's first marathon and he flew past us at mile 15 and I only just got a photo of him as I was trying to locate my friend James, who unknown to both of us was at the other Scope point. The conversation on the mobile phone was thus;
'I'm here'..'Where?'...'At the Scope cheering point, City Pride pub..where are you?'..'Same place...can't you see me, by the door, I'm waving'..'Er, no, what, can't hear you...oh, he's gone'
James eventually wandered to the other side of the pub and Rick went on to record 4:46. Again, not bad for 53.
We were then glued to the thousands of runner, trying to see our good friend and Kilimanjaro climber, Nikki Dennis; also in her first marathon. Short, blond, wearing pink, with a pink bandanna. After 152 similarly attired runners (one or two of whom were male), I saw Nikki's beaming face, smiling away, not a care in the world - despite running 15 miles.
Nikki is always so happy, never a frown. I put it all down to the Botox treatments. If you told Nikki her faithful dog of 12 years had just met its maker after an altercation with a tractor, she would look at you, with a big grin and a slightly quizzical eyebrow and say 'Really? Oh, not to worry, he'll be OK, I'll just stick him back together..anyone got any Superglue?'.
James and I gave exuberant vocal support and then put our brain cells together to work out that we could see her again at mile 18. For Nikki, 30 minutes of running, for us, a 30 seconds stroll through the smoking BBQ's and beer puddles of the pub.
James is young, with a never-say-never attitude. 'Come on Tone, we can cross to the other side here...just leap over the barriers..' 'Er, James, there's 35,000 people running up the road...are you going to wait for a gap in the runners?'
As Nikki approached, not far behind Sir Richard Branson, a fit and sweating Natalie Imbruglia (steady now) and a camel, James leapt the barriers and became runner 35,001. Dressed in jeans, with no number and a slightly wild eyed look on his face, James avoided detection, the marshals and the police to run with Nikki for around 10 minutes - before returning to the bosom of his despairing mentor.
I hear the police have issued a CCTV image and wish to question James under the Terrorism Act and Perverting the Course of Genuine Runners.
Nikki finished in around 5hrs 15mins, but complained that the queues for the loos were a nightmare.
The day concluded with being crushed in the melee to get on the Tube to go to Westminster for the finish of the marathon. We made our way to the Scope reception on Whitehall for sandwiches, bananas, crisps and a cup of tea (what do mean they are for the runners? Spectating is hard work too).
Paul arrived, happy with his time, but bemoaning the lack of shower facilities (No Shower Til Eastbourne), soon followed by my cousins Martin and Kirsty and auntie Delyse. I hadn't seen them for ages, so it was wonderful to spend some time with them.
James, Simon and myself then headed to Petty France, near St. James' Park, to meet Nikki and her boyfriend Chris (fixer of broken soap dispensers -sssh, don't tell anyone) for a celebratory drink in the Buckingham Arms. Petty France -what a great name for a street. Is there a 'Stroppy Sweden' or a 'Petulant Portugal'?
Then, the added bonus was an old friend whom I hadn't seen since 1990 turned up. It was great to see Caroline Almeida again. The last time was in Romania when she, her friend Stephanie, Simon and myself were travelling together. 20 years, far too long.
We dispersed and Simon and I headed back to Watford for a curry with Matt, Sophie and their children Harry and Lydia.
My lasting thoughts on the day were as follows.
Had my knee not experienced a problem and needed an operation I would have been out there pounding the streets of London, people screaming 'Go on Tony' as I ran past. Instead I was privileged to witness this incredible event, support good friends and family, meet old friends and enjoy a great day.
Then the thoughts were overtaken by a nagging anxiety. 'Oh, you remember you cycled to London yesterday and you felt stiff, sore and aching all over. Well, you've got to get up at 5am tomorrow and do it all again. Only 115 miles back to Worcester. Best get to bed then. Night night.XXXX'
Part 3 to come....
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