My experience of running London Marathon
I apologise in advance, I really don’t want to be that annoying “old timer” who can’t wait to share their experience of running London Marathon, but I’m going to do it anyway, because as always, there’s a backstory.
I’ve got three major events coming up this weekend. I’m feeling extremely stressed about all of them and I have zero control over any of them! My daughter is due her second baby on Saturday, the same day as my dad’s 80th birthday (& party) and all this the day before two of my members run London. I needed to do something to calm my nerves, I know, why not write about how much I hated running London Marathon in 2010!
I was 41 years old, a head of department at the local college and completely unaware of the two very significant diagnosis that I now realise had a big impact on my London marathon experience. I was perimenopausal however, despite blood test results confirming all my debilitating symptoms, the GP continued to gaslight me suggesting I carry on without medication or support and “just see what happens!” (Spoiler alert… it didn’t end well!) And for those of you who haven’t read my ADHD diagnosis journey, on top of the hormonal rollercoaster of perimenopause, I was masking a neurodivergence which, on reflection, was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting, requiring a huge amount of attentiveness and self-control, neither of which it turns out I have a great deal of!
Thank goodness, I hear you say, that during this turbulent time, you had the distraction of training for London Marathon! And yes, it probably does sound completely bonkers to add this stress into the mix, but the structure of a training plan gifted me with a legitimate reason to get out of the house for a few hours “me time”, which was literally a life saver. I welcomed and looked forward to those 20 mile runs!
Unknowingly, though, I did develop my own coping skills using running as a tool to function - I was going to add, to function well, but I’ll have to just say function, there were no frills with the functioning. Anyway, apparently by being physically active I was giving myself the beneficial effects of “inhibitory control”, meaning, I was inadvertently controlling those pesky deficits often associated with ADHD - hence my being able to function.
Running naturally enabled me to feel free, my hyperactive body and brain would calm in solitary steps, heading off road allowed for disorganised routes to be camouflaged as adventures. But I also loved taking part in big races, I hated missing out; an intersectionality and complexity of ADHD is that extroverted traits are often disrupters in disguise, we want to be in the thick of it, in the “mosh pit”, however the subsequent consequences of tears, burnout and shutdown soon follow, often misunderstood, unexplained and somewhat (when you don’t know why) completely irrational.
You might not be aware of the symptoms of ADHD, or even think it’s “made up”, trendy and “aren’t we all a little bit ADHD anyway?” Or if you know me, you could be thinking, hang on, she doesn’t look like someone who “has” ADHD, because, those deficits - disorganised, hyperactive and disruptive – all very negative, gender specific traits have mostly, been cleverly disguised, and I’ll be honest, it’s not something I really share or shout about, there’s still stigma and judgment about what ADHD really is, especially for women, and especially how it manifests itself, but as I said, I’m a bit stressed and need a distraction…
Thank goodness, there’s more understanding that ADHD brains process information and emotions in a different way, but how does this show up when you’re a runner and you put yourself in a situation, for example, like London Marathon with 36,552 other runners?
My training went as well as could be expected, it would be my 3rd marathon, and I’d got a place through my old EA running club. The lead up to the big day wasn’t really on my radar, there wasn’t any hype and I didn’t even collect my number, the expos were just, well places to collect your number with a few trestle tables to purchase any last minute running socks, and if you were able to get someone else to do it on your behalf, which I did, all the better.
The logistics of getting there was taken out of my hands as my dad drove us to the start in Blackheath. If you got there early enough, you were able to park your car – this really was fantastic, no stress, just empty streets getting ready for the road closures and an opportunity to eat Jamie’s oat and blueberry pancakes he’d made for me.
There was a lot of hanging around and the start was huge, but nothing that I hadn’t experienced before. The Great North Run, which I’d run previously, has record amounts of runners, so I was used to the hustle and bustle of a large event, in fact I thrived on this atmosphere and found it it gave me a massive buzz.
Queuing for the unisex Portaloo’s is, I know, a rite of passage for runners. I’m sure everyone hates them, but for me, the unisex toilets bring on the onslaught of sensory overload of disgusting smells with the potential touching of wet seats, the added stress of having to contort yourself into a hovering position whilst trying to keep your shorts from touching the urine drenched floor, simultaneously searching for any remnants of toilet paper - OMG it’s just so stressful!
The proximity of other people in the starting pens was claustrophobic, tightly packed together, bodies touching, (I’m not a fan of unexpected touch, I need to have known you for quite a while before there is touching!) people snotting in front of you (why? just why?) plus the heady combination of stale body odour (already? we’ve not even started running) and deep heat wafting up my nostrils, is too much on an already churning stomach and ever-increasing heart rate. The distractions feel so loud, it’s hard to concentrate and stay focused and be in the moment. For some individuals with neurodivergent brains sounds may be experienced more intensely so their sensitivity to noise is heightened, like a jumbo jet nearby - that’s quite hard to get away from when there’s no getting away.
In 2010 there wasn’t any bluetooth, wireless, noise cancelling headphones to sooth the head full of jumbo jets, so not only did you have to navigate layers of clothing with complicated attached wires of an iPod shuffle playlist with limited battery life, but they also didn’t cancel out any noise!
I underestimated the crowding of the start line as runners jostled for their position, all moving at the same time but not the same pace, runners shoving, pushing, like a stampede of cattle, slipping, losing their footing in a rush to “smash it”. The panic and overwhelm started within the first mile as I was shoved and shouted at by another runner. It was chaos, what were these social dynamics that I didn’t know about? I felt the sting of tears, fuck, what was this, what had I done? How do I get out of this? The pressure to continue was massive, a club place, family and friends supporting, there was no exit strategy, I was trapped.
How do I describe the constant throng of runners and the amplified, deafening noise of the supporting crowds that NEVER ends? I can smile about it now because I did find my own way to cope. I stepped out of it, first with St Johns Ambulance, there was nothing "wrong with me but it was a 10 minute respite as I faked some pulled muscle (sorry) and then whenever my dad popped up around the course, I stopped and gathered myself with him.
A quick pit stop…
Going over Tower Bridge was something else, and not in a good way. Now, we have the language, terminology and understanding that ADHD brains are wired differently and sensory overload and overwhelm can have an impact on how you feel and your subsequent behaviour. At the time though, I felt frightened, scared of this intense emotional reaction. I was confused, it didn’t compute, I loved running, I loved big events so why was I hating this so much? It felt isolating as I looked around me, was I the only one feeling this?
Of course, it did end, and I chalked it all up to experience, but how can inexperienced and neurodiverse runners have full access to the same quality and experience that other runners appear to have without having to go “through” an event that could potentially put them off running races for life? Having a running boom is amazing, but surely we need to make races accessible to everyone and this should be a more prominent focus within the running community.
I and other ADHD runners have our own strategies to reduce anxiety and stress before a race (mine are managed like military operations, luckily, I chose a husband who is very good at this and between us, we’ve got race day logistics down to a fine art) ranging from prepping gels, water bottles and charging headphones weeks before a race, to turning up to a race hours before the event, having portable breakfasts (toast/overnight oats, bananna & blueberry pancakes), and mindful meditation the night before.
And you might be thinking, well, yes don’t most runners do that anyway, and they do, but having control over the things we can control, makes the uncontrollable easier to navigate. Often communication from event organisations is unclear and ambiguous, signage is nuanced, habitually hidden, (ok, I’m sure it isn’t hidden on purpose, but I’ve known neurodiverse runners train for months for races only to get to the event and literally turn around and go home as the signage for baggage, number collection, and start line are all too often obscured add this to unclear last-minute changes over a static PA system) and boom! chaos = escape.
Made it!!
I think it’s vital that spaces are created that are safe and inclusive environments where everyone can participate and thrive, however, the problem is, embracing natural diversity and making changes that include positive neurodiverse affirmations involves a significant amount of unlearning when it comes to what most people have previously been taught – but you’re not a disruptive teenage boy?
Brighton Marathon launched a pilot VR app this year, to provide neurodivergent participants with a virtual tour of the racecourse and experience. The app aims to reduce anxiety by familiarising users with the event's sensory aspects, like crowds and noise, and make the marathon more accessible with the full version being ready for 2026!
This is amazing news, but for now, I’m told that there are Facebook groups/chats for different waves and pens, a space where you can ask questions and connect with others, share your fears, worries, doubts and of course excitement leading up to the day, I can only imagine how it feels to be part of this huge community where feelings of isolation are reduced and a sense of belonging are increased.