My name is Peter Snell and I am twenty-two years old. I am currently taking a year out from my University studies in manufacturing engineering, to start up my own business. For this year, while I get my business up and running, I have moved back from Bristol to stay with my parents in Henley on Thames.
In the late summer of 2005, I started to run alongside the river Thames at least twice a week covering a distance no more than five miles. Sometimes on these runs, a friend of mine called Adam Treacher would join me.
One day while we were both running, the topic of the London Marathon came up. As we talked about it during the run, I became more and more interested in taking part in the 2006 event.
My family – like most families – had been affected by various illnesses, and we all have causes that we feel strongly about. But after some discussion I decided on a little known charity with a low profile. In recent years there had been only one death in the family that was not connected with cancer, and that was my Uncle Peter who died from Sudden Death Syndrome (SDS). It was on the night of the 1st of December 2001. He was sitting in front of the television on a Saturday night with the rest of his family, when he got up off the sofa and then just collapsed on to the floor. My aunt tried to revive him using CPR (Cardiopulmonary resuscitation) and called an ambulance. However, he was dead on arrival at the hospital. This was a very shocking event for our family. After the autopsy, it emerged that he had been living with a hidden heart abnormality all his life, it was a bit like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. Had this condition been diagnosed much sooner he could have been treated and would still be alive today.
I did some research and came across a charity by the name of CRY (Cardiac Risk in the Young). After reading through their website, I decided that this was the charity that I would run for. I applied straight away that night. The charity CRY is dedicated to promoting awareness of the devastating condition of Sudden Arrhythmia Death Syndrome (SADS) as well as providing research, counselling and screening for this condition.
On my next run with Adam, I told him about my plans to run for CRY in the London Marathon and my reasons why. Late that night he telephoned me to say that he had thought about what we had been talking about earlier, and had decided that he would also like to run this year’s London Marathon for CRY as well.
Once Adam had applied and been accepted as a CRY runner, we both sat down and thought about the best way to raise funds and train for the event. After reading a few articles from Runner’s World online and reading a few runners forums pages, we decided the best training strategy was to compete in a running race every weekend – gradually increasing the distances – as well as training during the weekdays. We then compiled a list of races for each weekend and sent off entry forms.
The next debate was on sponsorship and how we felt we could reach our target of £3000. We approached local companies in the Henley on Thames and the surrounding areas, asking for sponsorship. We offered sponsors a location on our running costume for their company logo and also the following benefits:
- A banner on a specially-built fundraising website
- A page on that website which would allow the company to describe what service or product they offered to the general public
- A link from our website to the company website
- Ways to contact the company
Over the next month we got a friend to help build us a fundraising website called Saving Young Hearts, and started to fill the site with content and enter it in to the search engines.
A few weeks into the new year of 2006, my Dad came home one night and said that he had seen an advert for a running guide to go on runs in Reading with a blind man. I phoned the number in the advert and that was the first time I spoke to Bill Gulliver. He explained to me that he was blind and that he would require someone to run alongside him for two hours every Wednesday. I went along the following Wednesday and ran beside Mr Gulliver. As we ran around the field he would talk about running techniques and an appropriate diet for runners. We ran for a total of two hours and at the end of the night, I could notice an improvement in my running style due to Bill’s advice. After a few more sessions on the field, I was offered a place in Team Mendelssohn, which is captained by Bill Gulliver and is managed by his wife Pam.
It was now the middle of February and everything was going well with both the fundraising and the actual training for the marathon. When writing out the list of races one week, we decided that we would do some cross-country to spice things up a little. It was the 19th February and this Sunday’s race was the Hardwick cross-country near Alysbury. The weather was terrible, with heavy rain and a freezing howling wind. All the runners gathered in a big mass due to the weather conditions – just like Emperor penguins!
I was just placing the last earplug into my ear for my iPod, when everyone bolted off running. The race had started and Adam shot off with the rest of the runners. I have participated before in cross-country events but never in one with streams that you had to run through which come up to your hip; or mud bogs that seemed to of be a clay-like nature that clung to the soles of running shoes. It was hard as you could never seem to overtake on this course as when you did try to use a burst of speed to over take someone you would just loose traction at slip repeatedly.
After about three miles, I managed to catch up with Adam and as we both entered the third stream I somehow managed to make it to the other side of the bank before him and pushed myself up the steep incline and back on to another farm type field. At this point, I was travelling once again at quite some speed and just after I crossed a footpath bridge to enter into another field, I seemed to buckle under the new dry type of soil. This put me off balance and as I was going at some pace at the time, I was thrown further off balance resulting in me landing badly on my right foot. This then twisted further and distorted my ankle into a collapsed L shaped formation.
As my body was still in motion, I carried out a further few very painful strides before coming to a complete halt in a hopping like stance. I knew right away that I had done some serious damage to my ankle. I then looked round for some form of help. I was in the middle of a field, could not walk or put my right foot down, and was in a considerable amount of pain. In the distance, I could see a marshal dressed in a fluorescent orange jacket. I then slowly began to hop over to the marshal and as I got half way, I could see that the marshal was a woman and she had started to walk towards me. She could see that I was in some difficulty. The lady asked what I had done and I said I thought I had broken my ankle. See then quickly went off to get some more help.
As I was about three miles from the start it would take forever to get back on foot so the woman returned with a man on a quad bike that quickly transported me to a St. John’s Ambulance. Once inside the ambulance the St. John’s people began to cut off my wet socks and supports. The medics then examined my ankle and said straight away that it was broken. I then looked down and could see my deformed ankle; this made me feel quite sick. I was then taken to the local Hospital for x-rays and the Doctor confirmed that it was indeed broken. My leg was then put into a semi-cast and I was advised to consult my local Hospital in a week’s time for a full cast once the swelling had gone down.
Adam and his girlfriend Vashina had accompanied me to the hospital for support. After treatment Adam gave me a lift home as I could no longer drive. On the way home we discussed what had happened, because Adam thought that I had simply tripped and so had carried on running to finish the race. I explained to him what the Doctor had said and that it was impossible for me to run with him in this year’s London Marathon. For the rest of the journey, we were silent.
The next day I telephone CRY to explain my situation, said that I was sorry about this, and hoped that they could find someone else to take my place in running for them. For the next few days I just sat in my room in utter despair. I could not go to work as both my part time jobs required physical mobility. I was not able to drive myself anywhere and unable to progress further on my business venture. I spent the vast majority of my time in my room, going over in my mind what I had done and what I was going to say to people that had already sponsored me.
On Wednesday night at about ten, I received a telephone call from Bill. He was calling to ask why I had missed that night’s training session, and to ask how I had got on at the previous weekend’s race. I then began to explain the situation and what had happened over the course of the race and what the Doctor had told me at the hospital. Bill then asked me if I had thought about still doing the London Marathon using crutches. I said that it had not entered my head as even walking short distances on crutches was causing me some distress and pain.
He then asked me if I still wanted to take part in this year’s London Marathon. My answer was obliviously still yes, but I felt that it would be impossible to do this on crutches. Bill then said that was all he needed to know and that he would call the race officials to see if I could still take part on crutches. After a tense five minutes waiting, Bill phoned me and told me I was back in the race. After the initial excitement subsided, I then realised the enormity of the task that awaited me. I struggled to hop more than a few hundred metres without needing a lengthy sit down to recover, let alone complete twenty six miles. Bill then suggested that I must start my training straight away to convert my runner’s physique into more of a weightlifter’s body type.
That Sunday was my first race using standard crutches. The race was held in Winchester and the distance was ten kilometres (6.4 miles). I did manage to complete the race in a painfully slow three hours and forty five minutes. That works out about thirty five minutes a mile which was far too slow. At that rate, it would have taken me about fifteen hours to complete the 26.2 miles of the London Marathon. After the race I had a look at my hands and they resembled raw slabs of meat. It was at this point I realised that something needed to be done with the crutches. As I took part in more races using these crutches it became ever more apparent that the crutches would not last the distance on the day, as the rubber tips wore out and the crutches’ hand-grips gave me severe blisters even when wearing professional mountain-climbing gloves. I concluded that the standard crutches were not adequate, and I would need to have modifications if I was to complete the marathon. Bill then commenced a nationwide search to find a pair of racing crutches.
This search proved fruitless as there were no racing crutches or specially adapted sports crutches in existence. It was then that Bill came up with the idea of getting some racing crutches made, and once again the search was on to find a company that could help us with this task. It was at this point when we came into contact with a lady by the name of Mary-Ann Mitchell from an organisation called Remap. Remap is a national registered charity that provides one-off technical aids which help disabled people of all ages to enjoy a better lifestyle. From here Bill was directed to a gentleman by the name of Harry Thompson who lived in Blewbury near Oxford. Mr Thompson had served in the RAF and now ran an engineering company that had close ties with the nuclear industry. In his spare time Harry works for Remap and has helped design and make lots of devices to assist disabled people.
Bill then arranged a consultation with Harry at his home to explain what we required and set out a specification for the new racing crutches. Harry then suggested and showed us a few solutions to our current problems. We then discussed these suggestions further and Harry said that he would need a few days to put together some kind of prototype for us to come back and test. He explained that development work would take some time and that on occasion unforeseen problems could arise. We then left Harry’s home and he then begin to invent some kind of product that would meet the following criteria:
- Prevent the rubber tips from wearing away at the bottom of the crutches, which resulted in the metal rod digging into the ground, causing further vibrations, and loss of momentum
- Some kind of padding on the handles that would give a more comfortable grip, causing fewer blisters and pains to my wrist.
- To integrate some kind of shock absorber system into the crutch to stop the vibrations travelling up to my arms and shoulders.
A few days later Harry telephoned me to say that he had the first prototypes ready and would like me to come over and try them out. I arrived at Harry’s workshop and was then talked through the new developments. To stop the rubber tip wear, Harry had placed a tungsten carbide tip at the bottom of the crutches that protruded about three or four millimetres beyond the rubber. This tungsten tip would make contact with the ground first. This was also used to help with slippage on wet and uneven surfaces.
The next development was a ‘memory’ foam-type material for the handles of the crutches. This material was first invented by NASA and has an elastic memory capacity. When I gripped the handles on the crutches it would mould around my hands and leave a print of my grip when I release it. This helped further reduce transmission of vibration. The final stage of development was the shock absorber system that consisted of two main stages. The first was a gas cylinder spring that had an incorporated damping system fitted into the cylinder itself. This allowed the crutches to compress on the forward stride, effectively stopping the transmission of the energy vibrations caused when the crutches smashed into the ground. Once I had landed and started to lift the crutches up, the cylinder push rod would return the crutch to its original position for the next compression stroke.
The other part was a rubber insert that would be sited on the cylinder rod itself. The rubber inserts would give additional damping for the crutches and to help decide on the amount of travel required for the compression stroke. The rubber inserts’ length would differ according to each user’s height and stride preference. If the rubber was too short then it would disrupt the stride pattern, resulting in loss of rhythm. Harry then explained that I would need to do some experimentation with these crutches to find the desired length of the rubber insert. He wanted me to do some testing over the next few days to ascertain whether I could see any problems. These could then be fixed or adjusted to make the usage of them more enjoyable and comfortable.
Over the next few days I tested the crutches on a route near my house of about two miles. On each of these tests I would change the rubber inserts to see which suited me best. I telephoned Harry to say that I had set up the crutches to my requirements. He then asked me to come over to his house again so that we could weld together all the movable parts and give the crutches a quick once over before the race.
My first race with the new crutches was the Worthing 20 miles. On that morning a lot things went wrong, including transport, resulting in my late arrival at the start. This meant that my train of thought was somewhere else and I was not physically or mentally prepared for the race. The race had just started as I was making my way to the start line. I started the race and in the first few hundred meters I managed to pull a muscle in my left leg due to not warming up properly – this was bad as I still had to cover another 19.8 miles. Then my second disaster struck when I was redirected by a marshal on to a path by a roundabout. As I crossed from the road to the pavement, the crutches slipped away from me and I fell pretty badly, resulting in two cut knees and two cut elbows and being seriously winded. The marshal then waddled over to me as he had just seen what had happened. He began to apologise for directing me on to the icy path – as it was still early morning and the sun had not yet broken through the clouds ,some of the pavement was still icy. The tungsten tip was not designed to work on ice. All of the other runners had run on the road so had not meet with this problem, but due to me being on crutches and being quite a way behind, the marshal thought that I should use the pavement, leading to my fall.
It took me about five minutes to regain my composure and start again. I was now feeling pretty battered but still wanted to continue. I had just turned a corner and was now on a nice long straight. It was at this point I seemed to gain my second wind and was now motoring along at a good speed and managing to subdue the pain from the fall and the damaged muscle. All of a sudden the crutch on my right side separated half way down by unscrewing itself and falling off mid-stride! With a split second reaction I managed to force the remaining part of the crutch in my hand, into the ground, stopping myself falling into the road. I then re-adjusted myself and hopped back to pick up the other part of the crutches from the floor. I reassembled the crutch and continued onwards.
I had now lost faith in the crutches and my own ability, and decided that it would be best to stop now, as the crutches still had a few problems that needed to be sorted out. I reached the next mile mark and explained my situation to the marshal. He then arranged for someone to take me back to the start of the race. This was a sad end to the week and I was disappointed in the day’s events. When I got home and thought about what had happened it then occurred to me that with every major innovation in history there had been setbacks along the way. Today was a setback, and just as Harry had said, there would be days like this.
Bill telephoned Harry on the Monday morning after the race to explain what had happened. This really meant going back to the drawing board. Another problem that had occurred was that the pressure in the gas springs was too high and meant that I was fighting against the springs. This meant that my arms were becoming tired more quickly. The reason that I did not notice this before during the testing phase was that I was only travelling two or three miles. Because I was travelling a longer distance, the fatigue in my arms had increased. The solution to this problem was to decrease the pressure in the gas spring cylinders. The other problems which had occurred in the Worthing 20 where easily fixed, by sharpening the point of the tungsten tip and by lock tightening the screw which had worked loose. The really tough problem was changing the pressure in the gas springs, as specialist equipment was required to alter the pressure and Harry’s workshops was not equipped with the necessary tools.
I received a telephone call from Harry later on in the week to tell me that he had managed to mock up a credo pressure device to change the pressure in the gas springs. I went to Harry’s and we gave the device a try, it did work – but a little too well – and we ended up with too little pressure. This meant that the crutches would now bottom out when I applied my weight, which caused something called reverb. This means that when the gas spring is in the compression process it will just smash into the rubber inserts and rebound.
The Reading half marathon was only a few days away and we now had semi-working crutches but with no way of replacing the damaged parts in time. We had no idea where we could get replacement springs and even if we did would they arrive in time for the race? Eventually I had to take part in the race with the crutches in their current state, with the reverb problem.
I started the half marathon at Reading on the Sunday 9th April in fine condition. At this point the training was going well and I had reduced my time to fifteen minutes per mile. This meant I should finish today’s race at around the three and a half hours mark. This was the first time I had entered this race and I was very impressed by the size of the event and the general layout of the course. As this race was my local half marathon, I really wanted to get a good time and finish the race without any problems. I arrived in Reading, prepared myself for the race and made my way to the start line. As usual I started at the back of the pack, so as not to get in anyone’s way due to my lack of speed. The race then started, and five minutes later I had crossed the start line.
Everything was going well except the reverb problem with the crutches. The crowd was excellent and for once there were still a few runners positioned around me which helped spur me on. My plan was to meet my parents at the four mile mark to have a quick break and perform a few wrist exercises to allow the blood to flow through to my wrists. I was now a few miles into the course and things were going well. I had just completed the major hill of the course and was covering distance at a good speed and from looking at my watch was on for a personal best for a half marathon on crutches if I could keep going at the current pace. I was just coming up to the Reading University sports field where I train with my Team Mendelssohn colleagues – I crossed the road onto the pavement when I felt a shooting pain on my right wrist. I carried on, hoping that the pain would lessen. I have had lots of pains thoughout my running / hopping career but this one was different – it was more aggressive and the pain was more focused and severe.
This forced me to slow my pace right down. I stopped for a few seconds and then tried to start again, but the pain was becoming if anything worse. I realised now that I was in some real trouble and stopped again. A man that was a little way ahead me had stopped and was now jogging back to me, he could see from my facial expression that I was in a serious amount of pain. He asked me what was wrong and I informed him that I had a terrible bad shooting pain occurring in my wrist every time I took a stride. He suggested that I should pull out of the race. I then said that I would carry on a little further hoping that the pain would subside. I hobbled to a water station got a drink and luckily there was a small medical team there who applied a bandage. I then continued around the course.
I was now going at about half the pace and the pain was slightly muffled, but still there. I kept thinking to myself that I had to finish as family and friends had turned up and I did not want to let them down. I also knew that my parents were only a little bit further ahead. The man who came back earlier was now slowly plodding alongside me. I explained my situation and told him about CRY the charity who I was raising money for and why I was doing it and that in two weeks time I would be taking part in the London Marathon. He then suggested that if he was me, that he would consider dropping out of this race in case I did some serious damage to my wrist. I listened to him but what he was saying was falling upon deaf ears.
As I went round the corner, I saw my parents walking towards me. They must have realised that something was amiss and had started to walk back along the course to find out what had happened to me. My Mum asked what I had done to my right arm, because my stride was slightly lopsided due to the injured wrist. After a quick discussion with my parents, I soon came to realise that it would probably be best if I did drop out of the race. I thanked the man for his company over the last few hundred metres and wished him well on the rest of his race. I watched him slowly disappearing into the distance. I could not go any further and likely the car was not too far away. My parents brought the car to my current location and with some help from Dad I managed to get myself into the vehicle. It was a slow rotten journey home – all the while I was thinking once again this was it, the end of the road! I was thinking that if my wrist were seriously damaged due to the reverb, then how could I compete in the London Marathon?
That night I received a telephone call from Bill who was concerned as he had not heard from me before the race or during it, and was calling to find out how I had got on. I explained what had happened and said that hopefully it was nothing too serious and that I had put some Deep Heat on the affected area and taken some pain killers to help with the pain. I then said that I had a hospital appointment for my leg anyway tomorrow and if the pain in my wrist was still there in the morning then I would ask one of the doctors to please examine it. We talked for a little while longer and we come to the conclusion that the main suspect for this injury was most likely the reverb in the racing crutches. So by the end of the conversation the hunt was on for a new set of gas spring cylinders. Bill then relayed our conversation to Harry explaining the current position and requesting some new gas spring cylinders, set to the right pressure level for my weight.
The next day I went to the hospital and was informed after an x-ray that the cast could now be removed and that I could once again start walking. This was obviously good news, and my wrist seemed to be functioning again also. When I got home I tried to walk for the first time in eight weeks. My first few steps where very painful and it felt as if my heel was hollow. In fact it hurt so much that I thought that maybe they had looked at the wrong x-ray and that the ankle was still broken. Over the next few days I rested the ankle and kept it well-supported. I tried to walk every day but I still had limited movement. During Wednesday night’s training session, Bill was able to tell me that Harry had tracked down the manufacture of the gas springs who where called IGS. As I started to train on the crutches with the reverb problem still present the wrist injury started to aggravate me again. So I stopped and sat down and I decided that I would try and walk again. So I took off the cast once again and slowly slinked around the field in a controlled walking manner. It was at the end of the training session that Bill suggested that I do swimming to help improve the range of movement. I took Bill up on his advice, and for the rest of the week swam every day for about an hour. Gradually I could feel the improvement and by the end of the week I was able to fully walk again – yet I could still feel the weakness in the joint itself. It was Friday now and I had made contact with IGS, and eventually spoke to Rob Bloom who had kindly said that they would donate a set of gas springs and deliver them to me free of charge, which was excellent news.
It was now only six days to the London Marathon and the crutches were still not fixed due to the reverb problem. IGS said that it would take about four working days before the gas springs would arrive. I was also still recovering from the wrist injury. To try to keep in condition, I was still swimming a mile every day. As the days ticked away I was getting more and more nervous. When the gas springs arrived I went over to Harry’s house and we assembled the crutches and prepared everything for use on the 23rd. We then double checked everything and the crutches where all ready for the big day. We then made a spare pair of crutches, just in case something went wrong on the day like in Worthing! The spare pair my parents would carry with them on the marathon day and I would call them on my mobile phone if something went wrong and they could then travel by underground and meet me with the spare pair, so that I could continue in the race.
On Friday 21st April I spoke to Bill and we planned a schedule for the race day, which incorporated what mile marks I should rest at and where I should meet my parents with food. I then packed my bags and prepared my kit for the morning as I would be staying at my Nan’s house on the Saturday night as she lives in London, and this means that I would have a lesser distance to travel on race morning. On Saturday night I was completely prepared for the morning and I now only required a good night’s sleep to help charge the batteries to full capacity for tomorrow’s gruelling task ahead of me.
The great day dawns and I got up nice and early to eat a huge breakfast, get dressed and bandage myself up for the race. My parents then arrived and we drove as close as possible to the race red start. We then parked the car and made our way to the start. On my way to the start the adrenaline started to flow through my body. When I got to the red start line in Greenwich Park, I sat down on a park bench until the race was just about to begin so as to conserve my energy. At this point I was sitting think about Adam – thinking which part of the course he would be up to by now. I then heard a big cheer and the race had begun, I got up from the bench, took off my jacket which was keeping me warm and made my way to the back of the line.
It took quite a while before I actually got to the start line. Both fellow runners and spectators where shocked and surprised to see me on crutches as we were waiting, and I explained how I came to be in this situation. At this point I felt good and the new gas springs seemed to be working well. Then finally I had reached the start and went through the arch and over the line.
It felt amazing to be part of the crowd and being of equal status as the rest of the runners. The other runners were responding well to seeing someone do the race on crutches and if I felt a little tired or out of breath then the constant supply of “well done” and “keep going” spurred me on. All the training was paying dividends – moving rhythmically and harmoniously in a machine-like manner. Ahead of me was a water station and I decided that I would take a drink. I asked the lady who gave me the bottle if she know what mile this station was at. When she replied that it was about mile five, I was in complete shock as so far it all had seemed quite effortless.
I then continued once again, looking forward to meeting my family at the six mile mark. I had looked at the route quite a few times but never really memorised it. I knew that when I got to the Cutty Sark that I was roughly between the six and seven mile mark and was looking out for my family. After a while it soon became apparent that they were not there. I carried on regardless as I was feeling good and the cheers of the crowd surged me on. Over the next few miles, I wondered where my parents where. After a while this thought had settled and I refocused on the job in hand, I was really concentrating on my breathing and making sure that my stride was at the right pace. Once again I seemed to have just been so focused on my rhythm that I lost track of the mile marks. It was at this point that I decided that I would let my body dictate my actions. If I felt good I would just power right on, and if I felt a little worse for wear slow down until I regained my composure.
I had just passed the ten mile mark – this was meant to be the second meeting point, but once again I could not see my parents in the crowd. As my parents where carrying all my food supplies plus bandages and other vital equipment I really needed to be meeting up with them at the pre-arranged meeting points. When I reached the eleven mile mark it had become apparent that the plans had gone out of the window and that I would have to just deal with the situation. I was just coming to the twelve mile mark when I started to feel the first signs of fatigue, my stride was a little mis-timed, my breathing was heavy and my right foot was hurting. I decided that I would stop at the next water station to have a break and to re-catch my breath and then do a few wrist exercises. As I was doing this a lady came running up behind me, whom I had met at a previous race in Milton Keynes. I then re-started and a little while later we both agreed to stay together until I met up with my parents.
As we were going, this lady boosted morale and gave me great support. This was her second London Marathon so she knew the course quite well and told me that we would soon be reaching the bridge. Once again my sprits where lifted as this was the third point at which I was meant to be meeting my family. As we went over the bridge the TV camera had just been dismantled, but this didn’t matter as I was just happy that I had got this far after my last few races had gone so badly. This was one of my favourite parts of the course as it was a duel carriageway and as I and my lady running friend were going up one side, the rest of the runners was coming back along the other side. The lady told me it [the other side of the road] was about the twenty-third mile mark. The crowd were really fantastic at this point – really screaming home the weary runners for their last three miles – and once again I felt part of the race, unlike before where I was so far back that the crowd had dispersed or just moved on to another part of the course. But now it was really just me and my lady friend on one side of the duel carriageway and our side of the crowd was going absolutely crazy which was really driving us on and making the other runners on the other side look over and cheer as well. Due to this I seemed to lose track once again by getting caught up in the moment and before I knew it I was up to the fifteen mile mark.
At this point I had never gone so far even on both feet! However the next mile seemed to take forever and once again my mind started to wonder where my family was. There were still small dribs and drabs of the crowd and one man I spotted on a mobile phone. When the race started I stupidly took off my jacket and gave it to my Nan with my mobile phone inside the pocket and hopped off forgetting about it, this was the reason why I had not contacted my family earlier. So when I spotted the man on the phone, I quickly hopped over and asked if I could borrow his mobile to call my family to find out where they where. When I got through to them, they informed me that they were at the eighteen mile mark and were now heading towards me. I asked why they weren’t at the six and ten mile marks like we had planned, and they said that when they got to the six mile mark underground station it was so busy that they could not get out by the road. So they then went back on the underground and did the same for the ten mile mark and the same thing happened again. They then decided that they would go further afield and just wait until I got to them. I explained to them that I was now really tired and had hit the wall and felt completely exhausted and asked them to follow the course back so that we could meet up as quickly as possible. I then returned the man’s phone and started once again.
I was really tired now, and felt completely and utterly exhausted. I had not stopped for ages and my left knee and foot were killing me through cramp. But my running lady partner kept me going with words of encouragement. It was at this point for the first time that we both began to really speak as before we were both really out of breath and I was too focused on the race. I found out the lady’s name was Rowan and she was running for a charity called Scope and that she lived in Worcester with her husband. I think that she could see that I was in a bad way and all I could say was that I had definitely hit the wall and it was at this point that I really had to start to fight. I then started to feel a bit faint from lack of energy. Rowan offered me some of her Lucozade, but this usually gives me hiccups which does not help matters. I just hoped that my parents where walking quickly as they could towards me as I was really struggling now.
Just when I thought that things could not get any worse, my right wrist started to get that shooting pain in the joint again. Before long my stride had evaporated into nothing and had gone from at least fifty strides a minute to about one every fifteen seconds. Over the space of two to three hundred metres my wrist had gone again. It was my worst nightmare – what could I do now? I was about sixteen and half miles into the course and every stride was pure agony. I just tried to block the pain from my mind, but it’s hard to do that when you keep thinking to yourself “only another nine and half miles left”. Rowan was superb, constantly cheering me on.
This was now the darkest hour of the race and I honestly was considering pulling out at this point. I promised myself that I would never let myself do this, but my wrist was now throbbing so badly that I had lost all feeling in the tips of my fingers. I was in a bad way and my 2006 London Marathon experience looked like it was going to end on a bad note. I relayed my thoughts to Rowan and said that I did not want to do permanent damage to my hands. She agreed, and I then said that if I did not meet my parents before the end of the next bend then I would call it a day and hopefully came back next year. I didn’t want to let my sponsors down or the charity but I was at the end of the road.
I was approaching the bend when into view came my family with my Dad dressed in the CRY heart costume. Finally! I stopped and within in a minute they had reached me. After a quick update of my condition a plan was formulated. I would cover myself from head to toe in Deep Heat, take a few pain killers, eat a sandwich for some energy, then take off the cast, bandage my right ankle heavily, put on my right foot Asics running shoe and try and hobble the rest of the course. The plan was a little crazy and I was a little worried about my weak ankle, but at this point it was the only option other than quit. So I said my farewells to my family and asked them to meet me at the twenty-three mile mark for more food, pain killers and moral support which they agreed to do. I then once again set off with Rowan. I thanked her for staying with me and we began to start chatting again mainly to just take our minds of the next hour of torture. I was now wearing the CRY heart costume which also raised my moral massively. The crowd at this point was pretty non-existent and so were other runners. London resembled that scene from the film “28 Days Later” where London is like a ghost town.
I don’t know if it was the conversation, the sandwich which I had just eaten, the pain killers, or all three – but I suddenly felt revitalised. My right ankle was holding up well and the pair of us were making good progress. It was a little frustrating as we were so far behind now that they had started to take down the mile marker signs, so we were not completely sure whereabouts we were. But together we were relentless and marched (or hobbled) on at a good pace, all things considered. It was by this point that I had managed to master the art of blocking out all pain and negative thoughts from entering my mind. I was like a robot programmed for one task – to finish this race. Due to this the next six miles were a complete blur and miles seemed to just merge into the next one. It was only when I saw my parents, at mile twenty-three, I realised just how far I had come. I remember saying something like “meet me at the finish”.
I was on a mission and I just couldn’t stop, mostly from fear of not being able to start again if I did stop to speak. My parents shouted back that they would see me there and set off for the nearest tube station. Just as I reached the twenty fourth mile mark I was met by the second group of familiar faces, which was Adam and his family. Adam had kindly stuck around to see his friend finish the race. When I saw Adam the first thing that came to mind was how bad he looked and I told him so. I said “you look how I feel” and we chatted as we walked along by the embankment. It was at this point that Rowan turned to me and said that she was going to jog on as she wanted to finish before eight hours. I thanked her for all her help and then she was gone. So now it was only two and a bit miles left. The pain killers seemed to have lost there bite and pain’s ugly head reared itself once again. Adam said that he could no long carry on and would also meet me at the finish line with my parents. For company Adam’s Dad (Paul) and Sister (Lela) said that they would keep with me and keep me going for the last thirty minutes of my journey.
I was just approaching Big Ben when it started to chime for six o’clock. Less than a mile left – “I can do this just keep going” I kept telling myself. Paul and Lela were excellent over this last mile – they knew that it was all psychological at this point and just kept setting me targets, which I would push myself to complete. My left knee felt like a car engine with no oil and had completely seized up, and in strange turn of events my injured right leg was powering me along. My body was falling apart bit by bit, could I make it? I dragged my lifeless left leg – it was like a dead weight. I once again met up with my family and friends who accompanied me up until the last hundred metres or so until I had to go it alone. The support was great but I was now fed up and desperately tired and irritable. The finish line was in sight and all I could think about was the last hardest 800 metres of my life and then it was over! I comically finished the race how I had started the race – with a hop. I could not believe what I had achieved, all the crowd had now gone.
My next worry was how I was going to get to the car, because I could not walk or use crutches through sheer pain and exhaustion. I had too much pride to expect my friends and family to carry me or take me to an ambulance. After completing the marathon I then needed to relieve myself front and back. I noticed in the distance a mass of portaloos. At this point I was in a kind of zombie-like trance where I seemed to move without awareness. After inspection of my first choice portaloo I soon discovered the absence of toliet paper. So then through random choice of selection I chose another – still no paper – and another and another. While my bodily functions were still processing, I was coming close to desperation to obey the call of nature and wondered what would happen soon if I did not find the elusive paper! Finally hitting the jackpot toilet, I hastily entered holding my nose. My gaze then fell upon the sink – this was crammed with pairs of poo-stained knickers! The irony of the situation caused me to explode with laughter, which brought me back to life. I then exited the portaloos and made my way to my family and then we went to the tube station. While I sat on the underground train, I soon realised how much I had accomplished and how much money we had raised for CRY. Job done!
Peter Snell
