London marathon – my final tribute

By Steven Moody 

London marathon was always going to be special for me for a variety of reasons.

Firstly, it represented a chance to prove to myself that I was a good enough runner to break 3 hours again, after my last 2 failures in NYC and Boston.

Secondly, it was a test of what I could push myself in terms of marathon running as I had focused solely on running for the last 4 months – completely ignoring the bike in that time (much to Falcon’s disgust I might add).

However, above all, it represented the end of an eight year long journey that began for me when I learnt my Dad was diagnosed with Cancer.

There are some feelings in life that you will never forget – no matter how much you may want to – one of these is the delivery of the message that a loved one has cancer. This was my time to experience that dizzying, out of body type moment where you feel you are actually watching a weird documentary of someone else’s life – where unfortunately it is all too real and the “characters” are you and the people closest to you in your life.

For me, the key overwhelming emotion was one of helplessness.

Everyone reacts differently, but as a family we all grappled with the learning curve that comes with cancer. Mainly, we hoped that we could discover something/anything that could help us beat this. Soon previous unheard of terms such as white blood cell counts, oncology, radiology etc became part of our everyday conversations.

In overcoming this learning curve, my family found the Irish Cancer Society to be a powerful ally that was there to help with our every question and were a constant source of support as we went through an incredible difficult time. Most importantly, they helped my parents, Liam and Mabel, face this crisis with dignity and gave them hope at times when all seemed lost.

Even with the family’s quest for knowledge and the help provided from the ICS , I personally hated the feeling of inactivity that came with our predicament.

It was then I decided to take on a challenge to serve 2 purposes – firstly, to funnel my excess nervous energy into and secondly, to raise funds for the Irish Cancer Society as a way of showing my appreciation for what they had done for my family.

So I started to think about what  I could do that ranged from the grandiose (like climbing Everest – possibly aiming a little high at the start – if you excuse the pun) to the more manageable (like competing a 5km road race).

However, after a lot of deliberation – I decided that the Dublin City marathon that was something that would offer me the physical challenge that I needed assert some level of control over my life.

So that was how my distance running career started – and Dublin 2003 will always be my favourite marathon to date (as even dressed in a French Maids dress – long story) – as Dad and my family were there to see me finish.

As much as I would dearly love this story to have a Hollywood’esque happy ending where the €4,500 I raised from my challenge was the exact amount that funded the breakthrough research that saved Dad in the nick of time – unfortunately life is far from Hollywood and Dad passed away some 6 months later.

Even after Dad’s death, I kept up running to fill the emptiness. I found solace in taking myself away from the people asking the same questions with the tilted heads. It was relaxing as I did my best to make sense of the last few months  jumbled events where conversations, actions all blurred into one.

Nothing will take away the dull aching pain of a lost one – but running helped a little. It became my vice – I found myself even reading running books and magazines – it was all about the running.  It became my release – it cleared my head even for a short period where I was taken away from my new reality.

 By chance, in my new running nerd lifestyle, whilst reading runners world, that was when I came across a list of the top ten marathons in the world.

The rankings are based on a complex system of prize money, runners registered, supporters and a myriad of other factors. This results in the top ten fluctuating somewhat but the majority of are constant and are known to many e.g. Berlin, London, Boston, New York and Chicago.

It was then I had the idea of a unique tribute to my Dad, I would run eight of the top ten marathons in the world based on that list. In doing so, I would use a letter from each of the name of the marathons to spell out my Fathers name, Liam Moody.

In completing my tribute – I would also continue to raise money for the Irish cancer society as I found that tremendously satisfying when I did this for my Dublin marathon and now I understood even more how important their work is.

So the plan was to look like this

So with London providing me the final piece of my jigsaw – this was going to be emotional.

I flew out on the Friday night which involved the minor hiccup of having unknowingly selected a seat beside a hysterical Dutch girl crying into her phone after leaving her lover behind (I presume – my Dutch is not up to much these days).  I really think Aer Lingus should highlight such items on their “book online” functionality!!

Anyhow – I survived the journey and was soon in “londink – terrific in’it”. Was in late so off to bed I went ..

The day before the race involved the usual trip to the Expo and the not so usual experiences being chatted up by a 70 year old Swedish man. What can I say – when you are hot – you are hot! Myself and Ivan (who was shunned by Sven as he was married) got around the expo with the minimal of fuss picking up race numbers and the obligatory over priced marathon wear….

I kept  to my usual pre marathon routine of staying off my feet as much as possible and eating light snacks throughout the day.  Personally, I deliberately avoid the traditional carbo loading approach that a lot of marathoners buy into as I have found that it normally pays havoc with my innards on the day and leaves me feeling bloated (not unlike that bird from the motililum ad!)

The hardest part of the day before is basically the waiting …..

The good thing with London is that with a 9:45 start – there is no need for any setting of alarm clocks before the hour of six ….bonus…. Having said that – it did feel very early when my iPhone started to chirp at me after a fitful nights sleep (again the standard fare before a marathon)

Heading down to the hotel restaurant – I helped myself to a generous portion of porridge and fruit in the company of Stephen “Eusty” and his wife Catherine (she so fancies me). Both were doing their second marathons and were looking forward to racing in what looked like idyllic conditions.

There was also a large contingent of loud northie northies who were running the marathon to raise money for the Newry hospice. I couldn’t help but smirk at one obvious first timer who came back with the LARGEST fry up I have ever seen with his very vocal explanation of “Lads its called carbo loading – you gotta get it into you!”. One could not help think how a small bit of knowledge can be such a dangerous thing and felt sorry for anyone running in a twenty metre radius of Northie McDestined-to-explode-on-course.

Getting to the start of the course involved a 45 min coach ride to outside London – of which I was lucky enough to be on with the Northie Northies – so on went my iPhone and I tried to drown out the noise (sorry Clare – but you guys definitely are the noisiest race known to man).

The “holding area” beside our start corrals was massive – and decorated with an assorted of WWII blimps and hot air ballons – it really looked the part. The atmosphere was building. I spent a little time with Ivan and his Crumlin hospital runners. Lots of light hearted banter, course discussions and my own version of the running haka – designed to pysche out the Kenyans (see below)  …. again all adding to pre race nerves.

With the race start at 9:45 – myself and Ivan wished each other well and parted ways with me off to pen 1 and him off to pen 2.

After learning from NYC 2010 – I had put myself as having an estimated finish time of 2:30 so I would be up at the front (hopefully with a load of lads from Kenya) and would not have to waste time getting around slower runners. This meant that I found myself in a pen of very serious looking runners all doing their various stretches and warm up exercise – for once I decided to keep my mouth shut.

At 9:40, the marshals walked us up to the start line and the countdown was on.

Richard Branson himself fired the starting gun at 9:45 and it was game time….

Despite being in the first pen – I still found myself behind a couple of hundred runners at the start. I actually didn’t mind this as I knew the first 5 miles would be downhill and by running in a group – I would be forced to not head off like a scalded cat (lesson learnt from club 10km TT – dum di dum).

Even in the group – the pace was very tasty with us moving at 6:30 min miles – which was my target pace… I was feeling very comfortable with the weather being overcast – everything was going to plan .. or so I thought…

Now, putting things in context, I love my boy toys and I have formed an unnaturally close relationship with my Garmin in this regard. I love it for the info it gives me when I run – I love it for the data it uploads to my laptop after every run and I love our time together pouring over this data…

However, our relationship was about to turn sour …. the first warning sign of this was as I approached the first mile marker on the course and some 300 metres BEFORE passing the marker – the Garmin “auto notified” me that I had completed my first mile in 6:05 – WTF!! I wasn’t even near completing a mile …. one of my key pace setting devices had just gone AWOL….

“Bugger, Bugger, Bugger” a Hugh Grant soundalike started shouting in my head…

Although not all was lost, thanks to the Paris marathoners had already told me that this had happened to them last week. As per their advice, I had the back up low tech option of a pace band on my wrist. Basically , my pace band told me what time I should be passing each mile marker to keep on track – this coupled with the fact that there was a clock at each mile marker – I was game on!

So, from the outset, I was on target for a 2:50 finish (my secret target) and I ploughed onwards.

As this was my first time with the fast lads and running on my own – I was a little unsure about how to run my race and then in a moment of pure sexist revelation – my race strategy became clear to me. I would shamelessly target the girls and overtake as many as possible.

This did keep me occupied and the miles flew by with my first 5km split in 20 minutes do. I also began to realise that my plan to overtake all the girls was giving me a much needed lesson in humility as one blonde girl from Clapham Chasers left me for dead …. but aside from this blip I was catching most of my female competitors – all those years of kiss chasing in the schoolyard were clearly yielding dividends..

I passed through the 10k mark in 40 mins 26 secs and despite slipping slightly off my 2:50 target, I was happy in knowledge that if I went under 2:55 that would be a superb day at the office.

London is a very well supported course and this more than makes up for the mundane enough scenery for a capital city for the first 10 miles. I also engaged in a bit of fun with the crowd as I availed of the water stations at each mile.

Seeing as the temperature started to rise at 10:30 with sun breaking through – I was very careful to grab a bottle – take a sip and squirt some on my head to cool me down. So basically I was left with a half full bottle of water.  So for the craic, I would try to catch the eye of a good looking lady supporter and when she smiled encouragingly at me – I would squirt the remaining contents in her face as I raced by – causing the crowd to cheer loudly!

It was just before the halfway mark that I experienced my personal race highlight when we ran over Tower Bridge …. it was just awesome – the crowds were so loud and I found myself smiling from ear to ear as I looked up at the impressive masonary above me. I own this day I thought to myself…

I soon found myself passing the 13 mile marker at 1:25 which again had me on target for a serious pb. At this point we were entering into the financial services district of London and for a mile or so running parallel with the final leg of the race – so as we ran west to the 14 mile marker – I could see the tail end of the female elites running east to the mile 22 marker.

I personally hated this point as I find it demoralising to be running away from the finish in any shape or fashion… but I was halfway there ….. focus … focus

It was at mile 14 that my hip started to worryingly niggle me and I had this horrible feeling of dread that an old injury was about to throw a spanner in the works. Conscious that I was pushing my pace harder than I should have – I made the decision to ease off slightly and take my 2:55 target rather than be greedy and blow up completely …..

Even with my slower pace I was still running 6:40 min miles and fighting one sided battles with the female populace of the London marathons. It was working though ….

My decision to ease off was proven to be a wise one as roughly the same time – the sun had burnt off the cloud cover and the heat started to increase. This added to the fact that there was precious little shade made things difficult for all of the runners including myself. I struggled from mile 20 onwards and my pace started to drop ….

I desperately began bargaining with my legs about how I would treat them if they just would last for another mere 40 mins …. it is a strange moment when you start bargaining with your own body and in hindsight I suspect that I was suffering from some dehydration induced madness…

This suspicion was not helped by the fact at mile 23 I finally overtook a carrot … no, this is not a typo and I had a complete double take myself as I had just passed a man in a fancy dress outfit of a carrot! A carrot was about to run a sub 3 marathon … right this only further fuelled my determination to see this out strong …

Sod you legs – I am doing this with or without you. I closed my eyes and concentrating on breathing and getting in a strong stride again …. it started to work …. and I overtook Julius Ceaser….  Yes, another sub 3 fancy dress runner – damn this field was strong…. maybe girls were the wrong target (seeing as 20 of them were to beat me in the end) from the outset… I think only one fairy was to beat me in the fancy dress struggle ….

Distractions aside, the last two miles were a pure painfest with my hip flaring up again and my calf tightening … mind you this was nothing compared to some of the casualties that I witnessed on route to the finish with some runners physically collapsing in the heat…

At this stage the sight of Big Ben was a welcome one as it signalled that I was in my last mile… taking strength from this – I picked up the pace as best I could and knew that this final spurt would mean I would leave everything on the course….

I rounded the corner and I saw my Aunt’s house, Buckingham Palace …. 300 metres – 200 metres – 100 metres – arms aloft, I shouted an expletive loud enough to make Prince Harry blush and I crossed the finish line in 2:54:25 ….

I was drained – I barely could walk to pick up my medal ….but I had done it … eight years on – I had completed my tribute – I looked up to the heavens and winked ….

So now the challenge is over and the pain in my legs is about to subside (to the point where I can actually walk down steps forwards) – the reflections start ….

Was it worth it? Absolutely, not only for the sense of satisfaction with every milestone passed  – but this tribute has resulted in my entry into the triathlon community and in that I have met some amazing people and made lifelong friendships.

Has it helped my grieving? Yes – it gave me focus and helped me help others via my fundraising efforts [final count for fundraising over the 8 years for ICS – approx €83000].

Would I do anything differently? If I had the chance – I would have loved to tell Dad my plans before he passed – otherwise no.

What have I learnt from the experience? Life is too short to sit around – if you have a dream/challenge you want to conquer – get off your ar*e and do it. There are absolutely no barriers in life that a positive mental attitude and good old fashioned determination cannot overcome.

What’s next? 2 weeks rest, maybe even the odd relaxing massage  …. and then I will start to think about my next challenge…. As I said “Life is too short to sit around”

Actually I already have a big idea …. just need to work out the details – watch this space!!