The chap opposite me was lecturing me on the course, pacing, hydration yada yada. I humoured him for a while before announcing that it was my sixth marathon. Three of which were in London.
The weather was just perfect for marathon running. Bright and cool, with a faint breeze. And when I started to heat up after an hour, the rain started. Perfect.
As usual, the start was a dog's dinner. Runners totally out of their depth, trying to squeeze into faster pens. The girl next to me, who was supposed to be in pen seven, was blabbing about trying to break five hours. Ahh!
At 9.45am we were off. I was so excited I could have burst. Maybe the slow start was a good thing, but it took nine minutes to do my first mile. One minute slower than target pace. I managed to make up the time loss from mile two to four, but probably expended too much energy weiving in and out.
Marco finished in an amazing time off 2:48:19 in 409th position. And that, folks, is why we call him Sonic. Paul (running his first marathon) finished in 3:36:02. Being a track runner, I joked that he couldn't train for a marathon on 400m reps. Plagued with injury, he almost did. I'm sure he'll sign up for Loch Ness and give me a good run for my money.
Someone stole Marco's outfit, so he had to dress as a runner. Although I had to giggle when I spoke to my Mum after the race, as my six-year-old Niece asked if "Uncle Marco was the one in a Scooby Doo outfit?" Bless. She clearly doesn't understand that Sonic won't even wear shoes that are heavier than an elastic band.