Tom and I at the start - a full 26.2 miles to go. Still no excuse for the gurning I’m doing in this photo.
We started on the southern edge of Greenwich Park. Every year this spot is the focal point for one of the largest sporting events in the world. Every year... in April. For Tom and I there was no big send off. Rather than 35,000 runners, there were just 2. Instead of a TV audience of millions, our spectators were just a few donkeys…
…we would later rue the decision to leave the donkeys behind.
It was great to have Tom along for company, and also to keep me on the right path – I’m not a big fan of maps. We did still manage to take a couple of detours, and with some walking at the start we clocked up 29.5 miles on the day.
The Cutty Sark, an Ayrshire connection and early milestone on the route.
Canary Wharf. We didn’t hit too many red lights, though we were struggling a little after about 20 miles. This may, or may not have had something to do with our pub lunch. I’ve been told that Paula swears by a pint of John Smiths at the 13 mile mark.
A little foot sore, we finally made it to the 'finishing line' in St James Park at about 7.45. Not bad going I'd say, having started just after midday.
Marathon efforts pushed me on to a blistering 228 miles.