The London marathonMarathons are paradoxically the worst and best things in the world. They hurt, they hurt a lot. They push you to an extreme. But hey, lets hear it for the following:

To the people who cheered me on who’d never met me before

To the kids who stood patiently for hours handing out jelly babies

To the bands and Choirs who came along and sang

To the volunteers who handed out water and gels

To Tower Bridge at mile 13. You’re magnificent!

To the water spray at mile 20 It was heaven

To pouring cold water down my back at 22 miles

To the endless signs that make you smile ‘toe nails are over rated’ ‘inch by inch’ ‘forget the medal think about the beer’

To the tear that appeared in my eye at mile 23 knowing that I was going to make it

To the people who gave up their PBs to help a woman that had fallen

To the runners who shout at themselves to continue

To the man who ran with a tumble dryer on his back

To the runners who run selflessly to raise millions for endless charities

To the millions who donated those millions

To the fan club at mile 24 who out screamed 1000’s, you are the best

To the last mile with hundreds of people shouting ‘come on you can do it’

To the masseuse who performs miracles and enables you to walk again

To the medal which you can wear with pride

To the spirit of the greatest city on earth. London has never looked so beautiful.


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