A fellow runner at the start line asked if we were nervous ahead of today’s final stage of the 7 in 7. We’d explained our timings on the previous six runs and that completion in under 4 hours and 3 minutes was required to crack the sub-28h gross target time. His question was primarily directed towards yesterday’s 4.17, suggesting that the body had started to creak from the demands forced upon it and running a quicker time would be ambitious to say the least.

Whilst delivering his query the gentleman in question raised his eyes to the skies. Above us lay a blanket of blue without a cloud in sight. The fantastic weather teams around the country had raised expectation amongst runners with a unanimous prediction that today would be cool with intermittent showers. Perfect. A hastily revised forecast that morning reported that these conditions were actually 24h away and we would be running in 20 degrees of pure sunshine, a stat that excited the 300,000 onlookers, sunglass sellers and any proprietor trying to rid themselves of last summer’s overly ambitious order of Hawaiian Tropic. The sigh from the guy in the fully-loaded rhino suit could be heard as far back as Westminster.

What the runner posing the question had failed to grasp during our brief exchange was that the 28 hour mark set back in February was calculated. Highs and lows of this challenge had been predicted, factoring in the effects of jetlag / flight travel (Tuesday’s 4.08), Saturday’s short recovery time from #5 (4.17) as well as slipping a few precious minutes in the back pocket during the earlier races when we were ‘fresh’ (St Louis – 3.44 and Boston – 3.56). Geez, the USA seems a long, long time ago.

Were we nervous before the race? No, not at all. We’d replicated the same routine from the previous six days, leaving us without any doubt that the body would be ready for the final challenge that lay in wait.

Preparation:

Our race vests’ detailed itinerary drew gasps from the runners in our pen prior to the start of the race. Talking about the challenge helped us relax and responses from those around us (who usually cannot comprehend what we’re doing) gave us a boost heading into each run. During the 26.2 London miles we encountered many of those at the start shaking their heads as we passed them by, slipping a ‘still going strong’ wink to those we recognised as the doubters amongst the starting pack.

The London Marathon is world renowned for its participating runners over other events’ competitive nature. The higher percentage of entrants are raising funds for charity or completing this event for the first time. 160,000 people applied online for a place in the starting line up, of which 26,000 received the thumbs up. The remaining places are divvied up between charities (who pay a Golden Bond premium of £250 per entrant), sponsors, clubs, overseas runners and the odd celebrity or two. As David Coleman once said, “everyone out there has a story”. We were just two of those 38,000 attempting to raise cash to benefit those less fortunate than us. According to official stats this year, over £420 million has been raised for charities from this event alone. It’s a special event embraced by the nation and the sheer mass of supporters lining the streets of London is often enough to take your mind off the pain that strikes at regular intervals during the 26.2 miles. Only if you’ve completed this distance will the support of friends and families in the crowds summarise what it’s like to see a face cheering you on. These supporters’ eyes get boggled by constantly scanning crowds in search of their runner, and jostling for position is a tiresome affair in the competitive world of marathon watching. Seeing our supporters at various intervals spurred us on throughout, helping us tick off the miles in our countdown to the finish line that crept closer and closer as the race went on.

Starting slowly is integral to maintaining composure on target times. Going off like a bat out of hell sucks up glycogen stores, leaving muscles depleted at latter stages in the marathon. There’s no truer saying than ‘slow and steady wins the race’ and alarm bells didn’t ring in our ears when the halfway marker indicated we were a couple of minutes behind schedule. Starting in our pen placed us with a high volume with runners. This, coupled with London’s narrow running streets, forced a gentler pace that would reap rewards later on that afternoon. We had more in the locker and a brief exchange of nods at this point was all that was required for us both to gain instant understanding of each other’s physical condition and position.

Poor old Jonathan Edwards. We didn’t really give him much of a choice as to whether he was ready for the interview as his BBC producer counted us down from 3 to 1 in a matter of seconds as we approached him at the 19 mile marker. Suddenly we were on TV, announcing our challenge to the nation’s millions in an effort to drum up additional support and exposure. It was over in what seemed like seconds, leaving the silver fox for dead as we called time on the interview to progress our mission of achieving the desired target time. Adrenalin soared through our body and injuries were lambasted as a new wave of life took control of our bodies. Within minutes we’d clocked 7 friends and were running just over 7.30 minute miles against our targeted 9 minute targets. 20 became 21 in what seemed like seconds. 23 appeared out of nowhere and the Embankment crowds bellowed as we approached their turf through the Blackwall Tunnel. We ran this route in the two previous London runs that week but it looked nothing like this. The pace was frenetic. 24 appeared before us and hundreds of runners gazed with blurry eyes as we left them for dead, weaving in and out and darting along the home straight towards the magical marker that lay in wait. 25 was heaven and the clock read 3.46. We had nailed it and were in danger of running straight through Buckingham Palace had we not slowed down to take a right up the home straight.

Crossing that line brought relief and tears. It was all over and we had achieved our dream by completing the challenge with 7 minutes to spare, averaging 3.59 for each of the seven marathons. Officially we had until 14:15 that day to make the 7-day deadline and that had been beaten by 27 minutes. We were alive – albeit with slight muscular and skeletal niggles that would be treated at a later stage – still breathing, a little thinner, a touch sunburnt and very, very thirsty. During the tough training moments we’d talk about the treats we’d reward ourselves at the end of our session (usually something from Starbucks). At the half way marker a unanimous decision was made on an ice cold Guinness - on the head! It tasted like nectar and many more followed.

The wonderful Liz Thornton, event planner extraordinaire, had prepared a fantastic post-race party for us and three other runners on a terrace overlooking the Thames and London. It seemed she was the only one that knew the secrets of that Sunday’s weather and spending the afternoon sipping away with friends and families was an unforgettable experience. The crowd were decked in green 7 in 7 t-shirts (that generated £500 towards the Floak charity) and the atmosphere was unforgettable.

Our thanks are delivered to every single person who has contributed to make 7 in 7 switch from pipe dream to actuality. It would unfair to single out anybody in particular as so many have given up their time to make this as seamless as possible for us. We’re just the guys who put one foot in front of another to get through the physical bit. We’re humbled and extremely grateful to every supporter that has dug deep in these difficult times to support our quest and the five charities are all close (at the time of writing) to receiving the funds that we’ve targeted ourselves to deliver.

Thank you all very, very much.

Mark and Jarlath.