London Marathon, April 21, 1996

by Buck Hales

Pictures from the marathon:

The start:

Buck and Karen before picture:

The running rhinos:

London Bridge:

Buck and Karen after picture:

The Story:

The canon at the start went off but it sounded as a distant roar. We were standing in the midst of 12,000 other runners, about 1/3 of the total number preparing to run the London marathon. We continued to stand without moving for 10 minutes. Then the shuffle began. I didn't really start running until mile 2 when the clock had already passed the 30 minute mark. During this protracted wait I had much time to chat with Karen and ponder the events leading up to the start of my 8th marathon. My first thought was that I was at the start line and not injured. Then I pondered the rather inadequate training I had gone through during the winter, further healing my knees and hips, while limiting my long training runs. I felt great. Standing as we were amidst the multitude I was a little nervous about the heat. Already the mercury was pushing 70 and the sun shone down through a cloudless blue sky. Not the weather we anticipated for running in England. We had already survived the horrid toilet scene. We queued up and waited our turn. When I made it into the port-a-loo I gasped to see the contents of the bucket heaped high above the rim and no unused toilet paper to be seen. NO problem. I stood on the seat and squatted and used the marathon survival supply of tp I carried with me. Gads it was disgusting. We then milled about with the masses inside the blue start staging area. Like a mediaeval camp, or perhaps Woodstock revisited, the area was the size of four football fields surrounded by port-a-loos on one side and fluid replacement tents on the other. The PA systems implored us to drink much as it was very hot. Yikes.

Finally, the echoes of the cannon long since forgotten we took our first tentative steps. Thoughts of the pre-race evening came to me. A most unorthodox preparation, a walking tour of pubs in the Bloomsbury district. We visited Lincoln's Inn Field where the houses of court reside, saw Dickens's houses and haunts and tasted stout English drafts at three pubs. Good carbohydrate loading, pints of frothy ale. Our tour concluded at the Museum Pub across from the British Museum and we joined our tour guide, her friend and another tourer to taste the culture of Soho pasteria. It was a fine late night feast. We hopped onto the tube and were back to Park Court by midnight. As we began to move forward in earnest taking more than two steps in a row before coming to an abrupt halt, I remembered the frothy head on that Boddingtons and wondered why Americans can't make beer. Having a few pints of strong British ale the night before running an unseasonably warm marathon shouldn't matter, should it?

At last, we began to run. I felt a sense of incredible elation. The first three miles were downhill and shaded. We passed people holding signs that read "mind the hump" reminding me of the conductor on the tube imploring us to mind the gap. The Londoners were so polite, crowding the sides of the course, their cheers of "well done" and "bravo" were as excited as they got. Many runners wore vests (a.k.a. singlets) that supported a charity such as Lukeamia research. They run caring buckets and the spectators drop in their shillings and pence. The event is a huge fund raiser for charities and hundreds of runners ran in costumes. Early on it struck me how tough it would be run 26 miles dressed like Lord Fontleroy, especially in the heat. As we passed mile 3 it occurred to me that the water we were supposed to get at every mile was not to be seen yet. We passed a water stop that was already broken down, tables folded, the road wet from water but none to drink. At mile 4 we passed the first water station that was set up, but all the water was gone. Aqua Pure water in 300 ml bottles was strewn ankle deep across the road for 1/4 mile, but the tables were empty. It was hot, sunny and it started to look like there would be no water. By now 20,000 people had run by but there were still 20,000 more of us on the way. I began to have a panicked feeling. I kept my eyes to the ground and looked for discarded bottles that still had water in them. After about 10 sips I managed to get a whole mouthful of water. It wasn't until mile 5 that we got our first real fluids. Isostar, the British equivalent of Gatorade was supplied in 500 ml foil pouches, and they had a ton of it. When we saw it, we thirsty runners attacked the tables scrambling for the Isostar, not realizing that there was an adequate supply. I quickly drank a liter of the stuff and a carried two pouches off with me. I was not sure how soon I would see water again. Karen was much more resourceful. At about mile 4 when she discovered the lack of water, she queued up at the kitchen window of a flat along the course. The good citizens of Greenwich were handing mugs and cups of water out of their windows. Good show! She picked up one of the millions of discarded plastic bottles and a kind woman filled it for her from her kitchen sink. By then we had lost sight of each other, but weren't lacking for company.

With the fear of dehydration abated I felt more confident that I would finish and settled back into the immense flow of humanity. We passed the Royal Naval Academy and Greenwich Observatory, then came upon the Cutty Sark, a most impressive sight. I was carrying my camera so I stopped frequently and snapped shots. It gave me some rationale for not worrying about how fast I'd finish. A casual approach really makes running a marathon fun. I took pictures of the myriad of costumes, the lively crowd, the landmarks and sights. I posed for pictures with the Tower of London behind me. It was such a thrill to be in this grand pageant. At one point as we passed a blues band jamming away I heard the crowd roar in response to something in front of me. As I advanced on the noise I saw three rhinoceroses, the source of the crowd's response. Unbelievable, these blokes were wearing full body rhino costumes. Just as I started to pass them the blues singer sang "you know what I like..." and the middle rhino reared his head back and thrust his neoprene horn in the air. The crowd went wild! Karen reported that she too ran with the rhinos which lead us to speculate that there may well have been multiple groups of rhino runners. After I passed the rhinos I came upon a pair of globes who had just stopped form water (at one of the well stocked water stops). They were set to resume when one globe said to the other "are we ready Mr. Smythe " "quite so Mr. Farnsworth" and off they trotted giving me the impression that the world was passing me by.

The crowd at the Tower Bridge was huge and their cheers urged me on. They cheered us on intoning us to "carry on" and that our effort was "well done!" I remarked to a fellow runner how hot it was to which he replied "rather." Ah, the English are soooo British. By mile 19 we had completed our loop around the Isle of Dog, passed Canary Wharf, and were back at the Tower. By now most of the field around me was walking though I was picking up my pace. It was like open field running maneuvering around all of them. I came upon four Musketeers and Cardinal Richelieu spread five abreast across the road. They politely parted for me as I chugged past. I came upon a group of a dozen or so runners in black shirts and fire hats with Buck's Fire Brigade emblazoned on their backs. I had to take their picture. The crowd slowed as I pushed the pace. We ran past the Tower over the cobblestone street. I was so late by then that they were already pulling up the carpet and the Beefeaters were barely seen. The final miles along the Thames were great. The crowd was large and vocal and the breeze off the water cooling. Faster still it seemed I was amongst the only participants still running. I wore a vest with an American flag. I heard cheers of "go America" frequently, but at mile 22 or so I passed a group of young ladies hanging off a balcony. One cheered "looking good America" I turned and smiled at her and she said "looking VERY good!" which really lifted my spirits.

The heat took its toll. I passed one runner who was laying on the sidewalk shivering violently. He was being attended to by one of the innumerable volunteers who were handing out Vaseline. It seemed there was more Vaseline available than water. As I carried on I saw a group of four Bobbies carrying a litter double timing it against the flow of runners, no doubt to rescue our fallen comrade. Despite the anticipated turnout, the London Marathon being billed as the world's largest, and the large amount of advertising for Aqua Pure, it was clear that the organizers were not ready for the heat and size of the crowd. But other than the lack of water and disgusting toilet situation, it was a marvelous event. No other marathon can boast of the finish this one has. We ran past Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, up Parliament road and at Buckingham palace ran down the grand mall. I thought I was at the finish, a large sign loomed ahead, I picked it up then saw the sign: 800 meters to the finish. Gads, an infinity yet to go. The crowd roared as I rounded onto the mall and saw the real finish, a huge scaffold with a wall of people behind it. I kicked hard and passed hundreds of runners in the last 100 yards. I crossed the line, 4:45 showing on my watch, the longest I have ever run in my life. I collected my medal, my finishers T-shirt and goodie bag and was handed a cheese and tomato sandwich. After picking up my kit from the first trailer (the advantage of being a foreign entrant), I walked 1/2 mile to the H area and sat down amongst seemingly hundreds of thousands of people-- 40,000 runners and each had 3 people meeting them at the runner reunion area. I sat for only a few minutes before Karen happened along. It took us almost an hour to walk up St. James Park to Green Park across Hyde Park to Kennsington Gardens and back to the hotel. What a thrill it was. Our marvelous post race meal took us to Whitechapel District on the East End, home of Jack the Ripper, to Brick Lane where we found the most incredible Indian restaurant right in the heart of the Bangladeshi neighborhood. It seemed a fitting end, pints of strong British ale to replenish our now depleted carbohydrate reserves.