To say first of all, a HUGE thank you for your donations and support for CRY. The Head of the Charity, Alison Cox, was absolutely delighted with everything, and that CRY had enjoyed their best ever day at the London Marathon.

One week on , the memories get better and better as the painful parts fade into history …………

My time was 5 hours 40 minutes – as a number of you have reminded me! This was probably 30 minutes more than I planned – due to the heat of course! Who said it was going to rain??? As I squinted into the blazing sunlight at 8.30am, and regretted not applying sun cream, I suddenly wished I had drunk 3 more pints and had a pasta dessert as well as a starter and main course the night before.

Setting off from the celebrity start was memorable because of the private loos (vital) and to remind myself why I don’t envy Peter Andre …… by the way, Gordon Ramsey swears off camera as well as on, so its not just for effect! Other than that I got away at 9.45am sharp courtesy of the Mayor of Maze Hill (the little East London suburb where we were situated), alongside a 20 year old marine called Ben who had lost an arm and a leg in Afghanistan and had been running with a prosthetic leg on a ‘blade’ for only a few weeks. Humbling to say the least – he did the Marathon that day in 6 hours 20 minutes, which was awesome.

I was accompanied by two chickens for the first ten miles, who seemed to be at exactly my pace, but then I lost them amidst the carnival atmosphere of East London. We were engulfed in a wave of music and drums and Jelly Babies – which are apparently the best type of refuelling as the body loses energy! It was truly inspiring and caused me to run faster than I should. John Inverdale called me at 7 miles and I declared myself in fine form, offering a few other comments but not realising I was on Radio 5 Live! Thanks John!!

As I turned right to Canary Wharf at 13 miles, it was 2 hours 25 minutes gone (too fast by 20 minutes and I suffered for it later), slightly depressing as various runners were passing us the other way with only 3 miles to go ……… but the party atmosphere as I approached Docklands kept us all going. You could sense everyone digging deep in preparation for hitting the ‘wall’ and I admit to a sense of morbid fascination as to how I was going to deal with it as I could feel the pain in my muscles slowly increase. Going through the pain barrier in a rugby training session was one thing – and short-lived. I sensed this would be a long drawn out period of torture. I was right!

The Rhinoceros finally caught me at 19 miles whilst I was scaling the second, if not third, wall – I watched it shuffle into the distance as I slowed to a genuine snail’s pace. Every water station was like an oasis and yet another excuse to stop, although where the crowds where thickest I kept running. You felt you were letting them down otherwise.

Having gone through 20 miles in 4 hours 7 minutes, all thoughts of breaking 5 hours were gone! At times, I simply could not put one foot in front of the other, the only consolation being was that I was in good company!

Passing the Tower of London (23 miles) was amazing – crowds galore, multiple bands and a sense of ‘its nearly over’. So we all picked up the pace until the tunnel before the embankment and the last mile.

It was as if people were gathering themselves for a final effort.  It was like a warzone – St Johns Ambulance in attendance everywhere, limbs being stretched, some runners limping along, others walking, some standing.  But as the road stretched out towards Big Ben, you could smell the finish.  Parliament Square was heaving and noisy with loudhailers screeching “only 600 metres to go!!!!!”

I had wanted to put in a sprint finish, but there was nothing in the tank and I crossed the line at a fast plod, with a big smile on my face.

Collecting the medal, having a picture taken, accepting the goody bag and staggering toward the ‘meet and greet’ area were hazy memories and I didn’t feel too special. However, the CRY helpers were on hand, and it was back to the hotel they had booked for a massage, shower and a cup of tea.  Blissful – and by 6pm it was all over, time to go.

 On my way back, the taxi man looked at me in the rear view mirror with an enquiring smile –  “Well mate, how did it go?”  I wasn’t his first marathon running passenger, and as I mumbled my time feeling a little embarrassed he stopped me short and lectured me about what a great event it was and it’s the taking part  that counts.  And of course he is right!

 I received a couple of texts – ‘Did you win?!!!‘ ………I flippantly replied that they should tune in to the news to find out!  But on the day, we all did in our own different ways ……….and as I write this there is an injured soldier who has just completed 18 miles, and is due to finish next Saturday morning . Need I say more……

Thanks to you all again for all your support and especially to CRY.  What a day, and what a memory!