Three things I have learned from running the London Marathon

1) If you put your mind to it, you can do anything you want  

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When telling people that I was training for the London Marathon, most people would reply by telling me that they "could never do it". Even established runners, even people who had run half-marathons, would tell me that they could not do it, ever. And that, of course, is not true.  

I had always thought of the idea of running a marathon as a challenge, but never as an impossibility. I knew it was difficult; however, I also knew that people train for it and then run it: not breaking world records, but finishing it.  

For me, the challenge had always been the commitment to the regular, long and intense training that takes over your life for at least six months. And I could never motivate myself to face this challenge, until the opportunity of running the London Marathon came – the most coveted sports event in the world – for the charity that I chair and love, the Psychiatry Research Trust, which supports research and education in mental health. How could I say no?   

I immediately knew I could do it: I just had to make the necessary life changes to incorporate the training. As I described in my previous piece in Inspire the Mind, this training ended up helping my mental health. 

I have always had this semi-grandiose, over-optimistic view of life, where everything is possible if you put your mind to it. I am not talking about the long-term, lifetime commitment required to pursue a career–yes, I can do this too–but rather the grit to overcome a new challenge in weeks or months.  

So here is one other example: on one distant day in Spring 2010, I was walking along the Thames near Southbank with my nephews, then aged 11 and 9. I saw a man of approximately my (then) age with two children,  all three with a skateboard in their hands. So, I thought – how difficult can this be? Very -  I later discovered with a cracked rib. But I managed, with my two nephews (and the help of a professional skateboarding instructor), to soon learn to do drop-ins and kick-turns.  

Please let me clarify: I am fully aware that luck plays a big role here. If I could not buy running gear, have a workplace that allows me the flexibility to train, or simply the health required for enduring such an effort, I would not have been able to run a marathon. So, while I advocate the power of commitment and focus to achieve what we want, this goes hand-in-hand with gratefulness and compassion.  

2) If you want to achieve something difficult, you better study 

I have always been passionate about the technical details of my hobbies, studying them as if they were my job. I did this with photography (self-teaching books), cinematography (a Raindance Moviemaker diploma), the aforementioned lessons in skateboarding, and of course, training for a marathon.  My psychotherapist said that I prepared for the Marathon as I prepare for life: by studying as much as I can. 

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I have already talked about my training. However, as the marathon day approached, I became more and more studious of the key factors determining the success of the actual race day. I read Instagram accounts, websites, and written notes provided by fellow marathon runners. I prepared for the famous “tapering” – a drop in running volume in the last three weeks before the race, which routinely brings up anxiety and withdrawal symptoms. I tested the best combination of bananas, carbohydrate gels, water and sports drinks. I planned the speed I should keep for each block of 5 km, aiming for “negative splits”, that is, faster at the end than at the beginning (which I failed spectacularly to achieve). I rehearsed where to put (and how much) vaseline to prevent chaffing. I chose the best underwear, socks, and t-shirt. I decided what food to bring with me to eat before the run and to leave in my bag at the arrival.  

You hear stories of people who never trained for a marathon, showed up on the day to do something cool with friends, and ended up finishing within an incredible time and feeling as fresh as a rose. Except, I don’t believe it. Most, if not all, people who just show up to such a challenge unprepared finish with an injury or suffer severe exhaustion, or both. Like in life. 

One aspect of preparation is also to prepare for the things that can go wrong, because they will, as in life. In my (and all the other 55 thousand runners’) case, it was the temperature: one of the hottest days on record for the event. I slowed down, kept drinking, took an electrolytes powder (yes, I had trained how to empty the sachet into the bottle while running), and I drenched myself in all the available showers. However, people left and right were stopping with cramps or fainting, and I also started to get anxious that I might feel sick and that I might have to stop the race. To calm myself down, I looked at the worst-case scenarios, and I embraced all possible solutions. I kept repeating to myself: “You can finish this. If you feel more tired, you can slow down. If this is not enough, you can walk. If this is not enough, you can stop, rest, and then start again. It may take a few hours, but you can finish this”. I also used a lot one of my Kung Fu mantras: "It is only pain".

I was 30 minutes slower than my target time, but I finished. 

One funny surprise was that the gel provided by the organisers was not the one I had trained with and was much more liquid than I expected. So there I was, running with super-sweet goo all over my hands and trying to get wet wipes (yes, I had those too) from my back pocket. 

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3) People will carry you – the supporters, the friends, the crowd 

I was overwhelmed by the generosity of the people who donated to my fundraising page for the Psychiatry Research Trust (there is still time to donate here): 83 donors, some anonymous, helped me raise more than my target of £5,000. Their written comments supported me through the weeks of hard training and boosted my confidence in the last few days before the race. I received words of love, strength and inspiration.  

I felt lucky that so many of my friends (and my wife) braved a chaotic and crowded London and the long queues on public transport to cheer me along the course or at the arrival. Every time I saw them, it was like a refreshing fountain swig in a desert of fatigue, a kick that projected me a few kilometres more. It was sheer joy sharing such an important moment with them. I could not stop hugging them even if I knew I was way too sweaty for their comfort.  

And finally, the crowd. Do I need to repeat this truism that is on every newspaper article, website and social media account talking about the crowd at the London marathon? But it is true: the crowd’s energy is truly overwhelming. The noise is everywhere, ranging from really loud to cacophonic, providing an addictive energy: music, shouting, cheering, instrument playing, drums beating, dancers, singers, people drinking champagne…  

Now I know why people want to run the London Marathon again and again.  

And so do I.