Call the Midlife (28 page)

Pause. Breathe.

‘Arrgghh.’

‘I’m so angry.’

‘I’m pleased for you as well, of course I am, but I’m also so . . . well, more jealous actually. I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do a marathon. And now, out of nowhere, boom, you’ve snuck in there before me.’

‘Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh.’

‘I want to scream.’

She was screaming.

I’m just not quite sure she realized. And it’s true she has always wanted to do a marathon. In fact I’m almost certain she could go and run one now if she really wanted to. Naturally super-fit, she doesn’t move like a person. Tash’s physiology generally is more akin to that of the animal world: long, reaching, smooth, effortless.

‘Oh my God, I think I’m going to cry.’

She was still going.

‘Not because I’m upset – although I am, a little – but because I cry at the marathon every year anyway on television, I think the whole thing is amazing. To think you’re doing it in three days and to think how hard you must have trained to get your head and body around the challenge, it’s all too much.’

‘I hate you but I’m so proud of you.’

Another pause.

Reload.

And then:

‘Can we come and watch?’

And that was about the size of it.

From that moment on it was just a matter of organizing how and where she, Noah and Eli were going to spectate from.

The runner was sorted. The fan club was now the priority.

HALF AN HOUR LATER

‘Will you come with us to buy an inflatable from the fancy-dress shop?’

‘What for?’ I ask.

‘It’s far easier for you to see us in the crowd if you know whereabouts we’re going to be and we’re waving a six-foot banana than it is for us to spot you in amongst fifty thousand other running beans. That’s what all the online spectator guides say.’

Tash, already completely on the case.

‘Er, well I would honestly love to help you to do that, but I have a very important lunch date I need to keep.’

‘Who with?’

‘Paula Radcliffe.’

‘Whaaaaaaaat?’

Paula is Tash’s sporting hero. At this point I can almost sense several saucepans about to come my way.

‘She heard I was doing the marathon and I was writing about it in my book and …’

‘You’ve been training for a marathon in secret and it’s in your book!’

It was time to make a very swift exit.

LUNCHTIME

45 HOURS TO GO: 1 P.M.

Paula Radcliffe is a wonderful all-round human being. She is so generous with her time. She has such a gentle way about her. To the extent it’s almost impossible to associate the smiling, relaxed mum and wife with the tenacious, gritty and determined running legend she has sacrificed much of her life to become.

The truth of the matter is, when Paula appeared as a guest on my radio show a few weeks before, I had confided in her with regards to what I was up to. She was especially intrigued that I wasn’t telling anyone and offered to help in any way she could. One of the greatest marathon runners that’s ever lived, offering her services to the shuffle king – what was not to like?

After arriving at the Tower Hotel, the official headquarters for the London Marathon, I’m given the heads-up Paula is outside, stretching after a light training run.

A few moments later, she bounces in, arms outstretched, then gives me a massive hug.

‘Hi, Chris, I’ll just grab a quick shower and I’ll be right back down.’

Paula always has a permanent aura of positive energy emanating from every pore, but here at marathon central, times that by a thousand. She is a living and breathing god.

While I’m waiting, Gary, Paula’s husband, introduces himself. Handsome, tough, quite intimidating if I’m honest, the no-nonsense reputation he’s renowned for immediately in evidence. By her own admission without Gary, Paula would not have achieved the greatness she has. His protectiveness is the ring of steel she needs to give
her the space to focus on being the best of the best.

Five minutes later, Paula’s back and Gary is on dad duty, leaving us to have a chat and sit down for lunch in the hotel’s bistro overlooking Tower Bridge. With less than two days to go, the atmosphere is already carnival-like. Bands playing, and mobile coffee bars and ice-cream vans enjoying queues spilling out into the road.

My first marathon is to be Paula’s last and here we are, having a chinwag about exactly that. I’ve been ridiculously fortunate to do many extraordinary things in my life but this has to be right up there with the very best of them.

‘What do you fancy to eat?’ the Champ asks.

‘Paula, it’s two days before the marathon and I have to get my fuelling right, I’m going to have exactly the same as you.’

‘Right, risotto it is, then.’

From then on the conversation just flows. Every two or three minutes someone pauses at our table to wish Paula good luck or tell her what a huge inspiration she’s been in their life. All the time she never once fails to smile up at them with a mixture of appreciation and encouragement, not for a moment showing any sign that she’s in the slightest inconvenienced, even though she’s clearly mid-conversation and in the middle of her meal.

It’s only when we get talking that it hits me what a huge weekend this is for her too. All that she’s experienced in her running career, all the triumph and the tragedy, the unbelievable highs and the dark and desperate lows, ends in two days, for good.

This is it.

‘So how are you going to approach Sunday?’

‘Well, I say to myself that my intention is to go out there almost as a fun runner and see what it’s like to run a marathon like most normal people do, acknowledging the crowds, talking to other runners, maybe stopping for a few photos and interviews on the way. But then when I really think about it I’m not sure if I can. I suspect that once I’m on the line, my default ‘get out there and run as fast as I can’ mentality will kick in. I really don’t know. What about you?’

Now this is hilarious. The world’s best ever, asking me the self-same
question about what she does for a living.

But that’s the wonderful thing about marathon running and marathon runners: there is total mutual respect between the lowest and slowest beginners to the quickest and the fittest the sport has ever seen. In fact there is no ‘lowest’ in marathon running. Everyone out there with a number on their chest on the day knows what everyone else has had to go through to get to the starting line.

I tell Paula I would love to finish in under five hours. That would be dreamsville for me. That’s if I finish at all, of course.

‘And do you think you can?’

‘I’ve no idea. My last long run was a hit-and-miss French farce with my fastest mile being no quicker than perhaps thirteen minutes.’

‘Right, well the best advice I can give you is this: don’t start off too quickly. Everyone always does and it almost always comes back to bite them on the bum later on in the race. Even if you think you’re not going too fast, look down at your watch and check, because you probably will be. No matter how good you feel, stick to your plan. Adrenaline is so powerful and there’ll be lots of it pumping around your body, but it can be very misleading.

‘If you feel like you are comfortably cruising, think to yourself, “Could I up my pace for a mile now if I had to and still make it home?” If the answer is no, then you’re going too fast, in which case just come off the gas a little. Only ever so slightly – you’ll be amazed what a difference it makes.

‘Hydration and nutrition are vitally important, much more than a lot of beginners realize. If you’re thirsty – or even think you’re thirsty – drink. Listen to your body all the way round, it’s your best friend. And don’t be tempted to miss any energy gels because you think you feel like you’re OK. It’s just not worth the risk.

‘And finally, and most important of all, EXPECT AT LEAST THREE TOUGH PERIODS. At
least
three. Just be ready for them, then when they happen, think calmly about what’s going on and what you might be able to do to get through whatever it is that’s
bothering you. Almost everything will most likely pass, but if you stay relaxed and keep breathing, placing one foot in front of the other, this can only help the situation.’

This last bit of Paula’s advice has stayed with me ever since, not only when it comes to my running but in my everyday life as well. It’s so obvious. Of course things are bound to go wrong, from the moment we get up in the morning to the moment we rest our head on the pillow again that night. The last thing we should do is waste energy we might need to fix a potential issue on being constantly surprised that life continues to be imperfect.

My lunch with Paula was one of the most enjoyable and edifying hour and twenty minutes I’ve ever spent with another human being.

Until she threw in this little curve ball . . .

‘And how are your running shoes?’

‘Well, they’re OK.’

‘But they’re fresh, yes?’

‘They’ve never run a marathon before, if that’s what you mean.’

‘No, I know that, but they’ve got some life left in them, yes?’

‘Er, I don’t really know.’

‘How many pairs have you got through in training?’

‘None, my shoes for Sunday are the ones I’ve had since December.’

‘What????’

Oh dear. Clearly this is not good. I can see it in Paula’s eyes. At which point none other than serial Olympic gold medallist and former middle-distance world-record holder Steve Cram pitches up.

‘Steve, please tell Chris he cannot run on Sunday in trainers that have already seen hundreds of miles’ wear unless he has absolutely no choice but to do so. He’s just asking for trouble, yes?’

‘Eh?’ says Steve. ‘He’s not running the marathon, is he?’

Far from worrying about my footwear it took us the next five minutes to convince Crammy this wasn’t a wind-up and that I had honestly been in secret training.

‘Well, I’ll be . . . Wonders will never cease. In which case, Paula’s
right. You really could do with a bit more bounce under your heels.’

Now, far be it from me to go against the stellar advice that I was being gifted, but all I could hear was Jim Fixx’s words ringing in my head, along with the pain I felt in my calf when I stupidly tried to change my running style a fortnight ago: NEVER change your routine or equipment with less than four weeks to go. MINIMUM two weeks. And certainly not TWO DAYS!!!

But what would you do?

Our greatest-ever marathon runner is telling me I need new trainers. Surely only a complete, 100 per cent idiot would not heed her advice.

‘What make do you wear?’ asks Paula, now genuinely concerned.

‘Nike.’

‘In which case we have half a chance – Nike are my sponsors. What model are they? I’ll get on to the truck to see if they can send a new pair down for you.’

The fact is I have no idea what model they are. I’d seen a mate of mine wearing them at a Christmas party last year and after commenting on how much I liked them, something I’d never done with regards to trainers before, my wife went online and bought me a pair as a surprise from Santa.

This results in Paula Radcliffe,
the
Paula Radcliffe, going online on her phone and scrolling through hundreds of images of running shoes asking me if any of them look vaguely familiar.