AS the 35,000 runners taking part in this year's London Marathon cram in last minute training, dozens of local athletes are hoping to raise thousands for charity, as well as achieving their personal goal.
The Chronicle and Informer met some of them to find out more about the often touching stories behind their decision to tackle the challenge of a life time.
For Teddington's Lucy Harrison, the marathon marks the end of a long, tense period of her life. The 25-year-old entertainment sales executive is running to raise money for Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research, to celebrate her Godfather's recovery from leukaemia.
"My Godfather Chris was diagnosed with advanced leukaemia in 2000 with little hope of survival," she said. "It was extremely painful to watch him deteriorate from a very active person, who also ran marathons, to someone who was not even able to lift his hand. We were slowly preparing to lose him. After months of hospital treatment his final hope was a bone marrow transplant.
"Our saving grace was his twin sister, who was the only possibility of a match. He's now fully recovered and back to marathon running. I'm taking part with him to show my support for all of those who helped him to overcome such a terrible illness. All of the research work that is done by Leukaemia and Lymphoma really is saving thousands of lives and without this he certainly wouldn't be running in the 2010 marathon."
Lucy hopes to raise £1,500. "I started training as soon as I found out I had got a place and it's going really well. I'm really enjoying it, so much more than I thought I would! Gradually building up the training has shown me that it's achievable and not only that, I've got a new love for running. Nothing is nicer than the smiles I get from others also out training – it's like belonging to a club!"
To sponsor Lucy visit www.justgiving.com/lucyjaneharrison
A Kingston police sergeant is hoping to be the quickest bobby on the beat when he tackles the 26.2 mile challenge. Sgt Nicholas Ellis has set himself a fund raising target of £2,500, which he will donate to The National Autistic Society (NAS).
He said: "My son James was diagnosed with autism two years ago and at the time I have to admit I hadn't really heard of the condition. It was at his point I came across the NAS and they have provided our family with a wealth of support ever since. Now I want to give something back so they can continue to help families in a similar position to ourselves. While autism is incurable, the right support at the right time can made an enormous difference.
"As well as fund raising, Sgt Ellis is keen to raise awareness and has organised presentations for fellow officers at Kingston station. He said: "Autism affects such a huge amount of people in the UK so it is important that people working with the public are trained in working with people who have autism. Autism is a 'spectrum' condition and therefore affects each person in a different way; I felt it was important that my colleagues receive the right training to understand the condition as a whole."
To sponsor Sgt Ellis visit www.justgiving.com/runayear4NAS
Chronicle reporter Jessica Thompson ran the first Brighton Marathon on Sunday (April 18) and provides readers with a warts and all, mile-by-mile account of her race experience. See page 2
THE night before my first marathon my biggest worry was sleeping through my alarm and the sheer humiliation of explaining to people why I missed the race.
Luckily my slightly paranoid tactic of setting two phone alarms and one on my laptop was successful and I found myself eating banana laden porridge through bleary eyes on Sunday morning.
I felt surprisingly calm and accepting that the big day had arrived, I put the training in and followed all the rules about sleeping well, carbo loading and drinking plenty of fluids. Now I just wanted to get it over and done with.
I ran the race for the Child's i Foundation which is has set up a centre for orphaned babies in Uganda, so I met charity representatives on the train to Brighton. At the preparation tent I bumped into two of my fellow team mates as we prepared for what could be for some of us the biggest physical challenge of our lives.
Time was limited after we got through toilet and baggage queues so there was little opportunity to wind each other into a nervous frenzy, which was probably for the best.
According to the time we expected to finish the race we were separated into different colour bands, mine was green for a finish of between four hours and four and a half hours.
In our cluster of runners you could cut the tension with a knife, faces were covered with worried smiles and there was plenty of bobbing around as we were eager to get going. The smell of Deep Heat stung my nose. In front of me a man was dressed as a fairy and another participant dressed as a toilet was nearby too. This was enough to keep people entertained until we heard the gun go, it was a good ten or fifteen minutes before we made it through the start due to the sheer number of runners taking part. The adventure had begun.
The first mile went very quickly and I felt great, here we were introduced to the crowds we needed so much to spur us along our way. My chest was full of excited butterflies and I could not stop smiling, I found myself waving at people I didn't even know, the atmosphere was incredible. This was generally the pattern for the first few miles, spirits were high and everyone had legs full of energy and enthusiasm, the real challenge at this point was not speeding off too soon and running out of fuel.
In the stretch up the 10 mile point there were a few hills, for the first time I just started to feel a slight strain as I negotiated these but I was still feeling very positive.
The first low came at mile ten but not through any physical reasons - I realised my MP3 player was not going to work for me so I prepared to battle on without my favourite music.
Miles 10 to 13 were still enjoyable but the first slight aches kicked in, the top of my left leg started to pull, an injury I have suffered from before so it was not too much of a worry. The front of my thighs were starting to ache slightly - another familiar feeling.
Going back into Brighton town centre we were greeted by screaming crowds once more and live music made me feel elated, the endorphins were kicking in.
Soon the mile 15 point swung around and the aching got worse fairly rapidly, this is where I had a slight panic, realising that I had more than 10 miles to go. My imagination started calculating just how much pain I would be in if the discomfort continued at this rate. That equated to an awful lot.
Miles 16 and 17 were the real low, I knew I had broken the back of the distance but there was still a long way to go. I started to feel slightly hopeless.
Runners way ahead of me were looping back to my left and I could see pained looks on their faces, some were walking and this was where I really began to worry. It was like a battlefield and people were dropping left right and centre. If these runners were struggling, how was I going to cope? I started grabbing any sweets on offer from fresh faced supporters in the hope they would keep me going. At one point I shoved five jelly babies into my mouth at one time.
The transitions into mile 18 and 19 saw my mental state change once more, I had accepted the aching and I was determined to finish the race and in good time too. The pain was starting to really take hold and I had to tell myself that everything was going to be OK and a lot of other people were likely to feel the same, the fact I was not alone was the most important thing. I saw some supporters on balconies in the sun, enjoying food and drinks, I felt insane jealousy.
Dreaded blisters were forming on my feet and I felt a sudden tear underneath the big toe on my left foot. Every strike on the ground sent sharp pains into my feet. Not pleasant.
At around mile 20 I started to wonder about this "wall" that everyone talked about and really hoped it would not happen to me. My emotions started changing quickly, from worry to elation, I knew I was close to achieving a dream but I had to be very strong physically and mentally to make it happen.
The pain in my legs became more intense and my stride shorter and shorter, but I managed to keep a good pace, making smaller, quicker steps to adapt to the pain. My feet were starting to numb by this point.
The last few miles took us around a baron part of Brighton which made "the road to hell" more true to its name. Each mile seemed to take longer and longer but I was still thoroughly enjoying myself.
Miles 22 to 24 are a bit of a blur looking back, I remember hearing people talking about injuries, how they might not be able to go on, I saw a lot of people walking. At the other extreme, I saw a number of runners powering through like they only just started. Both observations were unnerving.
The last two and a bit miles saw us run back across the seafront in the direction of the finish line, the crowds were huge and it was good to hear screams of encouragement once more.
At this point it was a sheer battle of my mind to keep me going, I kept wondering if I should just walk now, I would still make it wouldn't I?
But no, that wouldn't be what I set out to do. I broke into a couple of short walking spells as I slowed down for water stops but forced myself to keep going despite the pain which was now searing.
As the markers showed I was just over a mile away I started to feel that familiar excitement when you know the end is near. To get myself through I translated the time into other activities, how long I queued for my Oyster card top-up the other day, a spell on the rowing machine at the gym and the like.
In desperation I spoke to other runners who looked pretty tired too, we joked and spurred each other on with pats on the back and words of encouragement. Soon enough the finish line was in view and it felt like a mirage, as the countdown reduced to just 800 yards and 400 I knew I had done it. Just a few more steps.
Going through the finish was quite incredible, despite the pain and the effort it felt like a strange dream, I felt detached from the experience until I was given my medal. That was when it all became real and a wave of emotion washed over me, a mixture of elation and exhaustion. I did it!
Later that day I discovered my chip time was around 4 hours and 10 minutes.
Writing this from the office I am in a lot of pain but very happy to have done it. If I can complete the distance anyone can and that should be encouraging to anyone taking part on Sunday. The best tip I can give is to enjoy it as much as possible and keep smiling.
Anyone wanting to find out more about the Child's i Foundation can go to http://www.childsifoundation.org/ and Jessica can still be sponsored at www.justgiving.com/jessica-thompson
