Marathon Man

Well that’s it for the election, all done and now it’s up to the parties to work out who the hell is going to run the country. It’s not the result I wanted but it’s not an outright Tory majority, which is a slight sweetener to the bitter pill we have to swallow. But anyway, I’ve already said more than enough on this election, time to put up my hands and step away from the burning wreck that is British politics.

Back in February you may remember me telling you how I was staring out of my window on what was an absolutely foul day when I suddenly saw runners appear in their droves. Well, they came back a few weeks ago but in greater numbers, and this time they weren’t alone. Where beforehand the only people watching were close friends, family, local ‘eccentrics’ and a smug git behind a keyboard in a warm, dry flat, this time the streets were lined with people as far as the eye could see. They’d come to watch the first Brighton Marathon and I was more than impressed with the numbers who turned out to support it.

I had one of the best seats going because the start/finish line and the halfway point were almost directly outside my window, and to cap that all the roads had been closed meaning for once there was no noise from cars, motorbikes or buses. Instead the incessant drone of engines had been replaced by cheering and rapturous applause; it was a wonderful change from the norm. There was none of the annoying start stop of engines at the traffic lights directly outside, gone were the middle age men in their soft-top sports cars, no more bus drivers leaning on their horns every time someone else tried to use the road. It was bliss, even if it was to be only temporary.

Nor were there planes in the sky thanks to a certain volcano having a whale of a time over in Iceland. When Eyjafjallajokul went pop it was as though Mother Nature flipped us the bird and reminded us arrogant little monkeys who was really in charge. With the majority of European airspace shut down an interesting side effect was evident as soon as you looked at the sky. It was clear. No clouds but more importantly no vapour trails from the engines of countless planes. Where before they’d gone unnoticed, filtered out of vision in much the same way as I block out the almost constant traffic noise, the clarity of the cloudless sky made them conspicuous in their absence.

As the morning progressed and more runners made it to the halfway point, the cheering and applause went from intermittent to continuous and watching from my living room it was impossible not to smile. It was surreal eating my breakfast and hearing sounds of encouragement through the open windows instead of the rumble of engines. It was almost like I was being cheered on to eat my toast and drink my tea. When I’d eaten I checked the route map on the website and went out on my bike to see what I could see.

I found the entire seafront area and surrounding roads free of cars except for the odd one moving at walking speed with a frustrated looking driver behind the wheel. More surprisingly I found the streets lined with people not just around the start/finish point but around the entire route, all of them cheering on the runners. Wherever you went there was a party atmosphere with people in the streets drinking, cheering and smiling, lapping up the sun and the first real day of spring. It was a welcome relief after the long winter.

As I made my way into Hove I went past a pub called the Seafield that had speakers set up outside and as I passed I heard Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now pumping out. That made me grin. It reminded me of the scene in Shaun of the Dead where they beat the shit out of the zombie landlord and I wondered what an undead marathon might look like.

Music punctuated the whole route, although not all of it was good. Typically the hordes of amateur drummers were out in force. What is it about ‘hippies’ with no talent for playing musical instruments that makes them think that they can play a drum? Just because all you have to do is hit the thing doesn’t mean when you do what comes out sounds any good. And being Brighton these ‘drummers’ are everywhere. As soon as the sun vaguely pops out to say hello these racket-mongers flock to the parks of our towns and cities and start hammering away on the bloody things with the rhythmic capabilities of an octopus having a seizure. Between the noise of the crap drummers and trying to avoid the pikeys and poi spinning freaks its enough to put you off going to a park in good weather. But I digress.

The lack of cars and planes made me realise just how intrusive these things are in our lives and how much we filter them out, carrying on as though they aren’t there. But when they’re gone the world for me is a much better place, especially when all around you is full of positivity as it was during the marathon. Don’t get me wrong cars and planes are great inventions, they’ve helped me enjoy some of the best moments of my life and will again, but do we really need so many?

And I may have given runners some grief in that previous post from February but you have to hand it to people who do marathons, that’s one hell of an achievement. I even saw one guy in a full stormtrooper’s outfit, who didn’t look too happy incidentally, and another guy with a full army kit on from backpack to boots. Insane. I’d struggle to walk 26 miles nowadays let alone run it, so hats off to all those who did the Brighton marathon that day. It almost inspired me to do it next year… but then I had another pint.