|
 This
coming and going went on over the years until one day last year Roy
approached me as I was walking past his house and asked me how long my runs
were. I told him that I did several 10 milers weekdays and 20 mile runs at
the weekends. I was dumbfounded by his next request “How would you like to
run the London Marathon?”
At first I though he was having me on as he had always seemed to be a
jocular type. When it finally dawned on me he was serious I did not need to
be asked again. He explained his situation; he had been running the line in
a football match in which his son was a participant when Andrew suddenly
collapsed on the pitch and died aged 16. It was a tragedy which returned to
haunt him on a regular basis since it happened 20 years ago. I could
understand and empathise fully with Roy as I had lost my own son, Sean, 10
years ago although to an entirely different set of circumstances. He was
aged 23.
Roy
explained the situation, would I be prepared to run for ‘CRY’ if he took
care of the organisational side of things. I had no hesitation in accepting
the offer as I had never been accepted for the London Marathon despite
numerous annual attempts at gaining entry. All I ever got was rejection
slips. It was like a dream come true, all I had to do was run injury free
for several months and I would get my wish.
The
months following were nerve wracking as every time I felt a twinge it took
on monumental proportions, however as the big day got nearer I realised that
all the twenty plus mile runs were worthwhile. I had not run a marathon
since 1989; consequently I had to up my weekly mileage but here I was on
April 22nd lining up in Greenwich park with 30,000 others. I
thought of Roy and his family and the tragic circumstances which had brought
me this far and my determination to finish in a good time was confirmed in
my own mind.
The
opening miles were slow and ponderous, as there was so much bunching due to
the volume of the runners taking part. I marvelled at the wonderful support
provided by spectators lining the route and the musical accompaniment being
afforded us by various bands - Jazz, Military, and otherwise. By the time I
had reached the Isle of Dogs I had
passed
Steve Redgrave who was obviously toiling to adapt to a new discipline,
endurance running. There was hardly a vestige of breeze, a wintry sun beat
down and the course was as flat as could be; so flat I was expecting to see
Windmills!
At
21 miles I was beginning to tire due to lack of sleep the night before but
the milling crowds reinforced my determination to keep plodding on. The
cobbles after Tower Bridge did not help my knee problems one little bit but
we were all in the same boat so onward we all stumbled towards the eagerly
awaited finish.
On
Birdcage Walk, 800 metres from the finish I could not distinguish Roy’s
voice from the rest of the spectators, nor could I see anything beyond the
right hand bend leading to the finishing line but Roy assures me he was
shouting me on but I looked so focused on the finish line that he knew I had
not heard him.
I finished strongly
picked up my Medal, goody bag and my personal belongings and strode towards
the repatriation area to meet up with Roy and his friend Sheila. Ten to
fifteen minutes later we were reunited and on our way homewards. Finally
back in rainy old Birmingham, Roy dropped me off at my home. I thanked him
warmly for everything and he drove off to his own home. I thought again of
the terrible sequence of events which brought so much co-operation between
Roy and I and the shared experiences that came out of it all. It was almost
as if we were destined to meet that day last year. I think we have helped
each other to come to terms with our respective losses.
Marathon
runner no. 30357
John
Herbert (John Hoireabard) aged 58 official finishing time 4 hours 34 minutes
|
