Tales of daily life from a 20-something Student from London.

Monday, 18 April 2011

"Whose house? RUUUUUN'S HOUSE"

On Sunday 17th April 2011, like 37,000 other brave/idiotic people, I ran the London marathon. To explain to you what it felt physically would best be summed up by the first thing I said after crossing the line:

"I'm never doing that again"

But describing what I felt mentally is a whole different story. Running the final 800m is a feeling of complete ecstasy. The crowd at this section isn't a group of strangers clapping. They're a group of supporters that want nothing more than to see you run across the line and complete your goal. As you cross the line, regardless of how slow, some being up to 12 hours, or fast, the fastest of which being a super-human 2:04, you finished it, you feel on top of the world. As though, for that moment, you are a hero. And everyone is cheering for you. It's a feeling unparalleled if I'm honest. Throughout the 26.2 mile journey, what is clear to every runner is the huge support given by the whole of London's community. From Millwall to Tower Hill, the streets are jam-packed with friends, family, and even just tourists, giving you the courage to continue and remind you just why you are doing this. Every Jelly Baby handed out by a stranger reminds you how important it is to carry on putting one foot in front of the other. These people don't need to be there. Some of them may not want to be there. But what's important is that they recognize the size of your task, and know why you're doing and see this as a call to arms to get out there and do their bit to help you help others. 
Toward the end of the marathon, I even saw one girl no older than myself fall. Two other runners picked her up, one either side of her, and helped her the remaining few miles to the finish. I even saw them help drag her over the line as I walked toward the station. The Marathon isn't people running through London from a start line to a finish. It's the journey, and how you experience it and the snippets of human kindness and selflessness you see along the way. You can train to run, but you can't train to experience such an awe-inspiring sight. 

The charity I ran for, the Myasenthia Gravis Association, is a charity I feel very strongly about. The disease they fight to prevent is a muscular weakness disease that can affect anyone, at any age. Even you. It can affect any part of the body, but particularly the face, preventing you from being able to smile. Think about that for a second. Not being able to smile would be horrific. It takes any emotion from a face and pulls it away, leaving a soul trapped behind it, unable to show joy at the birth of their child, or even something trivial like anger at a referees awful penalty decision (I'm looking at you Arsenal fans). With your help, I have raised £400 towards research that can help stop this evil disease. And now you have read this, just maybe, you'll think about popping a pound in the pot too. A pound isn't much to you, but it could be that final step in defeating this once and for all.

Please visit: www.justgiving.com/nomoresadfaces to donate.

Over and out

P.s. Sorry that last bit was a tad sombre, I'll get back to usual with my next blog.