Lost faith in humanity? Run London

 London Marathon Class of ‘25 

“This is bloody tough. But so are you." Nike sign around mile 20 or so. 

There were a lot of sights at the London Marathon that made my eyes water. But that sign brought me to tears. Not because I was falling apart when I saw it. Just the opposite. I was fine. Enjoying a walk in the park almost literally, except I was strolling through a big city. 

Was the race bloody tough? No. Not at all. Not one bit. Not even an iota. If anything, it was absurdly easy. 

There was no pressure. No physical issue to overcome. Granted, I needed some serious pep talks with myself in the days before the race so I stayed calm and centered, but that’s what I did every Monday morning for 30 years of teaching, so not so unusual.

With London ’25, I got what I trained for. And I was more than happy for that much. 

For Tokyo eight weeks ago, I did NOT get what I trained for. I passed out two weeks before it, then nearly passed out during it, so removed myself from the course and got my first marathon Did Not Finish, along with all the emotional baggage that goes with that. Also, tons of medical tests.  

Passed all the tests with flying colors. It’s looking more and more like the fainting was medication related. More specifically,  I was on the wrong type/ dosage of blood pressure medication, which I’d just started a few months before the fainting episode. 

Even so a few days before London, doctor advised me to err on the side of caution and avoid strenuous activity until my cardiology appointment this July. How does one do that when one has a marathon, which is rather strenuous, coming up? Also, what the heck does strenuous mean when you’re a marathoner? 

What’s easy for me might be strenuous for someone my age who doesn’t marathon and might be overly easy for a marathoner ten years my junior or more difficult for a marathoner ten years my senior. 

Given that I had all day and most of the night to finish the London Marathon, I opted to be mindful and keep my heart rate low and walk instead of run. Not that I’d do a good job running anyhow, since I haven’t exerted myself since Tokyo. 

Walking 26.2 miles is not overly difficult when you're used to covering that distance at a speedier rate. The soles of my feet started aching early on, due to the repetitive slap slap on pavement. But the aching was easy to ignore. I had a great time. I talked with people. Smiled a lot. Teared up a bit. Did not get dehydrated like some. Found the weather to be just right while many other participants thought it was too hot. 

I enjoyed my long walk. Got in marathon 91. And now it’s time to get training for some future events. I’ll start running again, a little bit at a time. I don’t want to overdo things. Don’t want to get too crazy but certainly think it’s okay to elevate that heartrate just a little. Plus, walking was fun. It was much easier than running, and a lot less mentally taxing. I'll keep walking, but I'll start adding running back in. 

What was mentally taxing? The hype surrounding the Abbott World Marathon Majors. The London Marathon is one of the original six. The others: Berlin, Chicago, New York, Boston, and bane of my existence Tokyo. 

The marketing for these events has pushed me to the edge. Isn’t it awesome. Aren’t we special. Whoop de doo. Spend all your money on all our things. Ugh. I’m at the point where I’m ready to run. Far from all the advertising. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I got London done, for a second time in fact. I’m grateful that I got the opportunity and that I had the time and physical ability to train. Best of all, it was an honor to be among the best of the best. 

Nope. Not talking about the frontrunners. I’m talking about the volunteers, the screaming supporters, and my favorites, the charity runners, especially the first-time runners whose stories simultaneously break your heart and feed your soul. I got to witness fathers and mothers running on behalf of their sick children, sons and daughters running for ill or departed moms, dads, aunts, uncles, friends. I saw Big Bens, knights in shining armor, men in black, princesses, queens, soldiers, rhinoceroses, boxes, rainbows, test tubes, roosters, teddy bears, Roman centurions, candles, and that’s just what I remember off the top of my head. 

The joy was overwhelming. London Marathon 2025 was a 26.2-mile hug that I didn’t even know I needed until that darn Nike sign smacked me right in the eyeballs. 

If you’ve lost faith in humanity, run or walk the London Marathon. I’m glad I got to be there and witness bloody toughness, unbounding resilience, and pure love like I never thought possible. 

It wasn’t about the run for me. But then again, it rarely is. Mojo isn’t quite back yet. But something good is growing. Maybe in a few miles I’ll figure out what that is. Guess I better get moving.