Loyalty of the legs...

(Picture: Getty Images)

Today was an amazing day in London.  The sun was glorious.  It shone down on the heads of all Londoners.  And I went out to watch the London marathon.  I am a virgin when it comes to marathons.  I have watched many of them...on telly.  But somehow I have never made it to watch one in person.  Not really sure why I have never made it out onto the road to watch.  Because today I was moved beyond any words I can convey.

This week has been a difficult one for humankind.  The Boston Marathon 2013 was marred by actions unfathomable and lives lost.  Today the marathon started with 30 seconds silence in honour of the atrocities of Boston.  From the minute I watched that on telly I knew I needed to be out there.  I was so saddened by the human race on Monday...I needed something to redeem my faith.

So I put on my Boston cap, bought at the Boston common in August 2012, and went off in search of my place in the sun on the route of the marathon.  I decided I wanted to stand on the Embankment, beside the water and in view of the London eye and Big Ben.  I got there at 11am and fortuitously minutes later the winners of the men's, ladies and disabled races came past me.  There is something symbolic about being 1 mile from the finish.  Your words of encouragement can help to give someone strength to keep going for a few more metres...and when all of us lining the route keep up the encouragement, those 10 metre spurts of energy runners display can quickly turn into 1 mile.  As I type this I realise this is in fact how life works too...encouragement can do wonders for the human spirit....and when human beings encourage together - the world is a powerful place.

I found myself wedged between two ladies who were out supporting their friend, Fiona.  She was in her 50's.  They were enthusiastic.  I think I nearly made them jump out their skin when Irvette van Zyl from South Africa came past - I screamed at the top of my lungs 'GO SOUTH AFRICA'.  My countrywoman was in the top10 Women finalists...proud beyond measure!  My shout echoed under the bridge I was standing under.  At this stage, the crowds were only 1 person deep...it was around 11.15am.  I was one of the few shouting - yes, I looked like a nutter!   And from that minute on, I was hooked.

As I get older I realise I become softer and softer in heart.  Feats of human spirit move me in a way that they never did in my youth.  And in that marathon today I could not hold back the tears.  They rolled down my cheeks.  The little girl called Delilah who had perched herself on the railing behind me and lent on me for most of the day gave me a serviette from her lunch packet to wipe my tear stained face.  And when the first visually impaired runner came down the embankment straight I blubbed insanely - there is something so moving about the sight of two people tied together egging each other on.  The selfless nature of being a guide to a marathon runner.  Just mesmerising to watch.  It 'got me in the throat' at the Paralympics last year and today it struck again.

At about 1pm a man collapsed about 5 metres from me.  He was weaving badly in amongst his fellow runners for about 10 metres and then he literally just fell into a heap.  It was agonising to watch.  The medics were there in seconds.  He was unconscious.  They hooked him up to a drip immediately and then there was suddenly a stretcher.  I felt awful watching it all.  I know that the numbers of loved one's are written on the back of the race numbers of all athletes...but in that moment the priority was to save this man's life, not to phone the number on the back of his shirt.  It was so surreal to watch.  Thank goodness he came around about 30 minutes later and they moved him into a wheelchair and got him off the course.  But I was struck by the concern I was feeling for this man who I did not know.

I stood shouting in that  spot for almost 4 hours.  I had my eyes avidly peeled for my friend, Bobs, who was running.  Alas, I never spotted him.  But he knew I was there with him every step of the way.  And when I was trying to make the very difficult decision about whether to leave or not (I wanted to stay to see him, but realised I could very well have missed him in the masses of runners), I began to realise it did not matter, because I had given him every ounce of encouragement I had to give in the build up to this race.  We had spoken about it a lot, we had talked about what it meant to him, we had developed our own code for one tactic...BP...and so I knew that he knew I was there with him.  I offered up my silent prayer to the universe for his safe completion of the race and I made my way home.

And he did finish.  And he came past the very spot where I was standing 30 minutes after I left it.  He was seriously battling with a muscle injury, as were so many other people.  But Bobs is made of sterner stuff.  One of the signs on the race route said:

Run if you can, walk if you must, but finish for Boston.

Thought provoking for sure.  It made me think about the amazingness of the human body - to be resilient for 42 kms.  To fight back when the body is on the brink of exhaustion.  The Loyalty of the legs is an astonishing thing to see in person.  The man behind me was shouting for his son, Charlie.  He saw him coming in the distance and started bellowing his name.  Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.  In minutes the crowd around me (and me of course!) joined in the Charlie chorus.  As Charlie got closer you could see he had his name printed on the front of his shirt.  We would have rallied for Charlie anyway, but it was his Dad who started the cheer.  Initially when I started watching the race I wondered why some people had written their names in koki pen on their shirts.  It never dawned on me the reason.  Until Charlie came along.  And then I twigged.  If you have your name on your shirt and you are feeling discouraged, the crowd will join together and shout your name in a chant that will spur you on.  I saw it with my own eyes today.  People who were totally finished and wondering how on earth they were going to make the last mile.  And then we started chanting...Eamonn, Ian, Neil, Jojo, Jess, Paul, Alan, Andy...the list was endless...but every time...I kid you not, EVERY time we chanted, that person who was walking felt the power of the crowd and the swell of encouragement...and they picked up their tired feet and got going again.  If people know your name, encouragement has so much meaning...just as it is in life and work and love.  

Today I learnt so many valuable lessons.  I also got to embrace my tears and feel my heart soar and lurch in equal measures.  It was a great day and made me realise when you have loyalty and encouragement in your life, combined with lots of love you can do anything...and even the loyalty of your legs can be counted on.  I owe gratitude for this day to Bobs.  Without him, I would never have spoken marathons.  I would not have made my way onto the streets to see humanity in action.  And I would have not experienced the 'human hug' of encouragement.  Thank you my friend for this priceless gift xxxx