Not a typical post for my family tree blog, but felt like a pretty historic family moment to me!

Just before 9am on 27 April 2025, I stepped out of my hotel into a sunny London Sunday morning, fully kitted out, ready to run and triple checked I had everything I needed. I wished another kitted out hotel guest an awesome race and headed towards London Bridge train station to make my way to the start.

It was unusually quiet thanks to the closed roads around the marathon route, but already buzzing, waiting for the day to get started. I could see Tower Bridge and the Tower of London to my left, fleetingly thinking I’ll be at halfway when I see you next but not wanting to dwell on it too much. I was already feeling emotional, thinking of my reasons for running. The people I was running my memory miles for in aid of Jersey Hospice Care, for my friend Sam, who had just finished his cancer treatment and was running too and for my own achievement, wanting to set an example for my kids.

I passed marshals setting up barriers and saw spectators with their signs and flags looking for the ideal vantage point. Passersby wishing me luck. I was nervous but ready.

It was a fair walk from the hotel and I’d left a little earlier, so I could have a steady walk to warm up but not over do it. 

Our start times were quite late.  Sam at 10:45 and me at 11:00.  We didn’t want to leave it to the last minute to get there but didn’t want to be hanging around waiting too long at the start either.  I was grateful for Sam taking over the travel logistics, a thing I never do, cos I’m a bit of a control freak and Sam can’t manage his diary from one week to the next, but it was one less thing to think about.

London Bridge station was heaving, full of runners, all heading to the start line.  We boarded the train to Blackheath, every passenger wearing a race number, checking gels and adjusting kit. The atmosphere was charged, everyone keen for the day ahead. Just outside Lewisham the train came to a standstill.  The conductor announced that someone had taken ill at the station with paramedics attending to them and that they may have to change the route.  You could suddenly cut the tension with a knife.  Anxiety creeping in that we may not meet our start time.  Thankfully after 10 minutes, which felt like 10 hours, the conductor announced we were on the move again and the carriage cheered in relief.

Arriving at Blackheath, (which I thought was lovely and will go back when I’m not trying to force a kitkat in my face) we were ushered from the station towards the start line.  Upbeat marshals wishing us luck and setting the tone of what to expect on the course. Sam and I were Team Green, which meant that, as we were being  slightly more eco-conscious, we got the added benefit of starting in smaller waves and on the elite start line.  The biggest plus point being that the queues for the loos were shorter!

Last minute prep and another wee, and I said goodbye to Sam as he headed off for his Wave 3 start.  I gave him the biggest hug and wished him luck, telling him not to do anything stupid and take it easy, cheering as his wave headed off to the start line.  We took a few photos as he hung about on the other side of the barrier in the start pen, then he was gone and I felt weirdly adrift. Sam’s been an amazing source of support since I started running, I was so pleased that we were here together and he felt a little like a security blanket. Sam knows what he’s doing and I trust him completely. I’m just a marathon novice pretending to be a runner.

Before coming to London, we’d discussed whether we wanted to run together or not but being in different waves meant it was out of our hands anyway.  We discussed it afterwards and had both decided separately that it was probably best that we ran our own races and not feel like we had to look out for the other, a decision which worked in our favour.

Anyway, at 10:55 my wave was called forward.  We watched a couple of other waves pass in front of us and it was literally like a wave, watching runners of all shapes and sizes, including rhinos and dinosaurs, flow towards the start line.  The big TCS branded hot air balloons marking the start and the DJ revving everyone up with uplifting tunes. 

My wave followed suit and before I knew it, it was 11:02 and I was crossing the start line and running, spectators already there shouting my name and wishing me luck.

Coming out of Blackheath and heading towards Woolwich, it was already pretty hot and I knew I needed to stop myself going to fast from the off.  My half marathon time had improved a lot in my training and I could definitely get to half marathon distance in 2 and a half hours, if I maintained my usual pace. What happened after that would be unknown and that was preying on my mind.

Runners spread out across both lanes of the closed road and spectators stood in their driveways were already delivering the goods with funny signs, cowbells and battering pans with wooden spoons.  I had no idea where I was (which was true for most of the race) but I took it all in. The marshals warning us about a series speed bumps in a Black Eyed Peas styley, a gospel choir singing on the roadside outside their church, a couple of very upbeat 5 and a half hours pacers dance running and playing music. 

I had absolutely no idea where I was but it didn’t matter.  Everyone was in this together and it felt like it.  I wasn’t even 10k in and was already in awe of the collective energy and passion that made this marathon so great.

Suddenly, I realised I was at Greenwich, and running round the Cutty Sark. I have no idea why, but this was one landmark I had looked forward to running past the most.  I think because it was one of the big features of the BBC coverage that I have watched every year avidly since I was a child.

I don’t remember much about where I was between Cutty Sark and Tower Bridge apart from the tunes; She Sells Sanctuary, Living on a Prayer, Don’t Stop Believing, some drum and bass, the crowd knew how to keep you going!  Hearing them now I can still picture exactly where I was on the course.

Then at some point, Joe Wicks popped up.  Here I was running with the country’s favourite PE teacher who was ‘Jeffing’ while I was running my heart out!  To be fair, being around Joe was awesome, the already electric crowd went to another level as he stopped for selfies and chatted with runners and spectators, being so friendly and encouraging.  For around 10k he kept me amused, popping up in front of me again, after not seeing him for a while, adding to my favourite pastime of people watching while I run.

Hitting Tower Bridge was another big milestone for me.  It was not only one of the most iconic parts of the course but also meant I was nearly at the half marathon mark, another 5km and I’d be beyond my farthest ever run.  I felt good and I was on track.  By this point it was early afternoon and hot.  It was hard to run in places because it was so congested and everyone was finding it tough under the warmer than expected conditions, but I was pleased with my progress.

Friends who had run the marathon previously had said that coming off the bridge and heading towards Canary Wharf would be tough because it’s a quieter part of the course plus you are faced with the stark reality of runners miles ahead of you coming the opposite way, who are reaching the final stretch and look knackered. 

Both were true.  The atmosphere felt strangely different, still electric but slightly more subdued. This was the point where I let my head get the better of me.  I was expecting it to be tough, so it was and I had asked my cheerleaders to be around this part of the course for this exact reason.

First up were two of my BFFs, Jo and Sam (not to be confused with the Sam I said goodbye to at the start line!) As I headed into Canary Wharf, they came flying at me with a ‘Go Elenor’ banner and hugs!  ‘We were worried we’d missed you!’ These two women have done life with me, they’ve been there through thick and thin, so to have them there giving me the boost I needed at the right time was just perfect. With a top up of jelly babies, helping me rearrange my remaining gels and water, then shouts of ‘You’re amazing!’, ‘You’re doing so well!’ and ‘Love you!’ They quickly pushed me off on my way again.

By now, I was finding it hard, I had taken to walking more than running, as had a lot of other people around me, which made it even harder to keep any kind of pace going without diving in and out of people.  I kind of gave up trying to run for a while, mainly because stopping quickly and starting again didn’t feel good.  My fuelling strategy had been working so far (gels boosted by awesome motivational messages from my gorgeous children) but I was flagging.  I knew it was time to chuck another electrolyte tablet in my water, so at the next water station, I stopped to fill up my bottles and was very grateful for the support of some spectators who I asked for help, when I couldn’t get them back in my vest. Unfortunately, I hadn’t screwed the lid back on one of my bottles properly and then spent the next couple of kilometres getting progressively soaked and thinking I’d bust a hole in it.  By the time I saw Jo and Sam again, I was well peed off.  So bursting into tears seemed the best thing to do.  Yet again, they were the best medicine, sorted out my water, held onto me longer, gave me more jelly babies and reminded me that I could do this.

So off I went, giving myself a typical, ‘For God’s sake Elenor, get a grip!’ For once, knowing my stubborn streak was probably going to be the only thing that was going to get me through at this point! 

By now, my other amazing friend, Louisa, was messaging me to see where I was.  She was parked up by some whale sculpture outside a restaurant somewhere around the Isle of Dogs.  So that was my next goal.  No idea where she was but I was only heading in one direction!  Rounding a corner and seeing the weird whale, I felt a wave of relief as I spotted her smiling face and delight to see me.  More hugs and jelly babies, which were now tasting like polystyrene in my mouth.  She said she had seen Sam (running Sam, not cheerleader Sam) about 45 mins before and he was doing really well, which gave me another little boost.

Now on autopilot, I was just going with the flow, trying to take in as much of it as I could, to feel the power of the crowd and let the spectators distract me from the fact that I’d slowed right down and wasn’t feeling it anymore. My usually twinges weren’t twingeing and physically still felt ok, but my head wasn’t coping.  I passed a group of girls on the sidelines who could see the look on my face, as I was intermittently crying, and they just started screaming my name and telling me I’d got this.  It started a ripple effect with the others who followed and I was back on it again.

As we headed back past Tower Bridge and the Tower of London again, I picked up conversation with a lady running next to me and said ‘I could just pop off and go back to my hotel right now’, knowing it was five minutes walk away.  She just said, ‘Don’t be daft, you can’t give up now.  You’ve only got a parkrun and a bit left to go!’  With that, my second, (or third, or fourth), wind kicked in and I started running like I had at the start of the race again.

Now, it felt enjoyable again, maybe because I was back in a part of London I knew and wasn’t second guessing distances or literally because there was just a parkrun left to go, having completed seven already that day!

Getting close to Westminster, I spotted Jo and Sam again, they were on the wrong side of the road this time, so I waved and they cheered.  Another little chat with myself as I rounded the corner past the houses of parliament and Big Ben, knowing this was the home straight, ‘Don’t stop now, you’ve got this!’ ‘Go Elenor!’  Finally, there was Buckingham Palace and the red tarmac of the Mall (although I remember thinking at the time, that I was sure it was more red!) and I knew I’d done it.  Arms in the air, thinking of the kids, who were tracking me on the app and their steady stream of messages, amongst the many things keeping me going.  Then, bang! Over the finish line.  Done!  I’ve only just gone and run a bl**dy marathon!