The Big Event

I swallowed hard, trying to get some sleep but I couldn't, the nerves were too great. This time tomorrow it would be over, but there were still ten hours to battle through until then. I felt doubtful. I suddenly had a feelong that this was an impossible task I had set myself. Had all these months of training and hard work been for nothing?

The next day, after a rough night, I slowly walked towards the three to three and a half hours area feeling nervous but yet proud that I had put my mind to doing this and not given up. I heard a loud, jolly voice coming from the loudspeaker to my left.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2002 London Marathon. Please make your way to your starting pen as the race will be beginning shortly," said the voice politely.

Now I was in my pen, ready to go. We were being herded together like sheep but I managed to wriggle my way to the front of the pen where I could see a huge, vast crowd on either side of the road, stretching as far as the eye could see. I could feel the ribbon that was holding us back pressing hard against my stomach.

"We will be starting in five, four, three, two one...BANG," the gun was fired and within seconds I was being swept away in the enormous crowd around me. I felt sick. I remembered feeling the same way at the start of my first football match as a kid.

I started at a nice gentle jog and I managed to clear all worries and bad thoughts from my head. I was slowly starting to enjoy this. It was rather amusing watching all of the runners pass me by. Their costumes ranged from soldiers to chickens to wearing nothing at all!

My legs were starting to ache, but I tried to ignore the pain because I knew that I had only passed mile seven, so I still had a long way to go. I hadn't stopped runnung yet but although my legs were begging me to have a break, my conscience told me to carry on. By mile eleven, I could feel a stitch just below my ribs that was bothering a lot.

I passed the seventeenth mile mark and I knew I was doing well, but by now I had 'hit the wall'. My muscles started to lock up and it suddenly became difficult to breathe properly. I wiped a bead of perspiration from my brow with my t-shirt and said to myself,

"Come on, just keep going. You can do it. Mum and Dad will be there at the finish."

By mile twenty-one, the pain was excruciating and I just wanted to scream and let it all out. I don't know what kept me going to the twenty0five mile mark. Maybe it was the thought of seeing all my family at the end, or maybe it was just pure strength.

Now I was literally staggering but the sight of the enormous clock and grandstands spurred me on. I was in the final three hundred metres of the race, I was on the red tarmac, I was near the palace. I wiped my forehead and stumbled over the finishing line. I put my arms up in the victory position and let out a triumphant roar. I had overcome my greatest fear and worry. I had finished the London Marathon.