Three days later and I’m still broken. I have aches in parts of my body that I didn’t know I even had and my biggest enemy is stairs. I hate stairs with a passion. I’m like a very tired dalek. I was nervous. Nervous as hell. In training, I had got up to 22 miles but this was 26.2 miles. How the hell was I going to manage that? At the start line, the nerves really kicked in when I split from my family and found myself in a crowd of thousands of other runners all warming up. I don’t like crowds when I’m running. I’ve always liked to run alone. I’m anti-social like that so this was bloody scary. The thousands of people who surrounded me all looked like they knew what they were doing. They even had proper kit. I just had my old trainers, my phone, some headphones and about 7 energy gels secreted around my person. There was some bloke at the front, probably a local radio DJ, trying to motivate the crowd with some inane chatter. To me, he was white noise. Just block him out. And then we were off. Urm. Actually no we weren’t. As I had to actually shuffle for 15 minutes in the crowd until I reached the start line. The radio DJ was getting more annoying with every step. And then we were off… I don’t know if any of you are Monty Python fans but it was like the weak bladder marathon for the first 10 minutes with men disappearing behind trees for a quick wee and then out again. Unfortunately women didn’t have that same option with at least a 10 minute queue at every toilet I passed. For the first four miles, it was easy but I was finding it impossible to get into a rhythm. There were simply too many people. I didn’t know if I was going faster or slower than I normally go. it was impossible to tell. At about mile three I passed four confused looking Ghostbusters whose car, that they had been carrying between them, was now a broken heap on the floor. I never saw them again. From mile five to mile eight or nine, I was doing well, I seemed to be keeping pace with a rather tall sikh man in a yellow T-shirt. He was going at his own pace. I liked that. But then I stupidly spotted a toilet at Edgbaston Cricket Club with no queue so I jumped in there. I was only gone a few seconds but my running colleague was now too far ahead to catch up. I could see the yellow T-shirt but he was now unreachable. And all this time my legs and arms were busily pumping away step by step. Something happened at 10 miles. It all just seemed too much. My head was trying to talk myself into stopping and my legs were joining in. There was open revolt. My pace had slowed down by this point. My confidence had dissipated. I was by Cadbury World by this point. It smelt of chocolate. And all I could think of was how nice it would be to stop and dive in a VAT. I could even feign a leg injury. No-one would blame me. But then I thought of all the money that I had raised for ICP Support, which was about £1,500 at this point. I’d have to pay it all back. I couldn’t afford that. Money’s a great motivation. I had organised my wife to see me on one of the loops at 16 miles. So with that in mind I thought to myself that I will at least survive until that point. So I kept going. It was becoming increasingly clear that I had slowed down a lot. I was still running but it was just the movement now and not the speed. Each mile was now taking an age. Just as I reached mile 16, I got a text from my wife saying she wasn’t able to get there and would see me at mile 20. So I kept going. It was at this point I noticed that most of the people around me seemed to be walking. But I was still running. But they were still going faster than me. One person was dressed as a giant bee. It was a bit demotivating. And then as if someone had let the dogs out, the Birmingham Half Marathon started and suddenly there were loads more people. I was now surrounded by runners sprinting. They were all around me. I could no longer spot any other marathon runners. Where were all my slowie mates? It was quite disconcerting. Finally I got to mile 20. I was looking for my wife. I couldn’t see her anywhere. Then I received another message. She would see me at mile 25. I kept going. The crowds were brilliant and very supportive. They would give runners out jelly babies and other sweets. They would shout my name as I approached. To each one I would smile, which probably at this point looked like a pained grimace. I loved each and every one of them except for the man gave who gave out ‘Fruit Gums’ rather than a softer chewy sweet as I nearly choked to death on his bloody sweet. ‘Fruit Gum’ man was being cursed under my breath for the next 10 minutes. Everything at this point was now a blur. I just smiled and waved at people as I stumbled past. Giving kids ‘high fives’ if they held up their hands. I just kept on going. Mile 23 came and went. I just kept on going. Then there was Mile 24. I was overtaken by someone dressed as a dragon. For the last few miles I kept spotting casualties. People who weren’t able to go on being tended to by St John Ambulance crews. At Mile 25, I suddenly felt a hand on my back. It was my brother Bill who had been spectating. I smiled at him and he stayed with me for a few seconds and then he was gone. A few steps later I saw my mum. But I still hadn’t seen Rachel. Every bone in my body ached. I felt light-headed. My legs wanted to stop more than anything. And then I saw my wife and my son George just around the corner and I nearly burst into tears. They cheered me on and I suddenly had renewed energy. For the first time I thought I could actually do this. I had less than a mile to go. The crowds were cheering. There was a ‘400 metres to go’ sign. It was the longest 400 metres of my life. And then I saw the finish. And then I was over the line. And I immediately stopped not knowing what to do. My body still wanting to carry on it was so used to the movement. I was confused. I had finished. I had just run a marathon. I looked around. I couldn’t get my head around how I had survived the last 10 miles. It’s beyond me how I managed to actually do it. Someone was speaking to me. It was a steward. He was guiding me to walk on a bit so I was out of the way of the finish line. I nodded and shuffled in the direction he wanted me to go. Someone handed me a bag. It had a silver sheet in it and a medal. I put both on. I had just run a marathon. I had done it. I wasn’t even out of breath. I could hardly think straight and my body was a ruin but I was breathing normally. That’s the thing I remember. It’s now a few days later. I’ve hardly been able to walk since. I still feel drained. But I now have this sense of actually achieving something for the rest of my life. It was the most difficult physical thing that I’ve ever done and I still can’t believe I actually did it. According to my justgiving page I managed to raise £1755.39 from donations plus £340.85 of Gift Aid giving my efforts a grand total of £2096.24 for ICP Support. The page is still open if you want to help at www.justgiving.com/fundraising/james-hill36