London Marathon weekend- but what happened to the fun runners?

 London Marathon weekend- but what happened to the fun runners?

Every spring the London Marathon makes its familiar appearance on the streets of the capital city. For almost 40 years now the London Marathon has decorated the London landscape with a triumphant splash of colour, hundreds and thousands of giggling fun runners and the richest seam of world champions as well as club runners from all over the world. Then there are the elite runners who would normally finish the race in the top 20 or so athletes who seem to sprint around Greenwich, the East End in her timeless beauty, London's now sadly subdued Docklands and those back roads that never seem to get any of the publicity and kudos we know they deserve. 

Tomorrow London should have been the ceremonial city where the pomp and pageantry that normally accompanies a London Marathon on a breezy spring morning will be missing quite painfully. How we'll miss that glorious fusion of the sublime and ridiculous, the thousands of fun runners dressed up in their funny peculiar costumes, raising phenomenal sums of money for their personal charities, How we'll yearn to see again that varied assortment of cousins and aunties, uncles and nieces jogging elatedly across the capital's bridges, pounding on pavements with the very latest in fashion statement trainers.

But not this year because this year has been destroyed by a global pandemic and the London Marathon was among the first of the British national sporting treasures to succumb to a chronically destructive disease. Quite naturally the Marathon had to be the first British sporting spectacle to fall victim to the coronavirus. Given the nature of runners battling it out for personal gloating rights within close proximity, this was one event that was never ever likely to happen. 

Still, we'll miss those bizarre telephone box outfits, men and women in rhino and elephant fancy dress, Batman and Superman in perfect tandem and a whole assortment of people rolling around in all manner of animal outfits. For essentially the London Marathon has now become established as the People's race, a marathon without any hint of prejudice, controversy and run on the most level of playing fields. It is renowned for its inclusivity, its diversity and its red carpet treatment for everybody. Ageism becomes a notorious swear word and there are no class distinctions suggesting that somebody has been left out. The only difference this year is that only 80 elite athletes will be taking part in the Marathon. 

Tomorrow though a former dockyard labourer and ex traffic officer with the police will stand by his starting position in his hometown rather than the glitter and glamour of London. His name is Ken Jones and he's 87. Absolutely incredible. What a notable achievement that'll be but our Ken will think nothing of crossing the finishing line in an idyllic retreat known as Strabane in Northern Ireland. Because Ken Jones could probably run the race in his sleep since Jones has been running for as long as he can remember, an experienced veteran of the roads, streets and hills of his local patch. 

For Ken Jones the London Marathon will be the culmination of a lifetime spent club running down wind-swept country lanes, past hedges, fields and beautifully preserved farmlands. He will be in esteemed company since the elite athletes will think of Ken Jones and remember what the London Marathon is all about. It's about enjoying sport, doing it for your own personal satisfaction and setting your own personal targets rather than collapsing at the half-way point of a Marathon because you'd set out like a cheetah on some exotic piece of prairie land. 

And yet the London Marathon will be going ahead of that there can be no doubt. It should have been held back in April but nobody knew what was about to happen next. We thought that hundreds of families would spill out of their front doors, line the London Marathon route, cheer themselves hoarse, tell them that the pubs had just opened and then given them the ultimate reassurance that there were only 20 miles to go. 

But tomorrow the London Marathon will start at roughly the crack of dawn and even the birds will only have been awake for half an hour or so. There will be only 80 runners huddled together at St. James's Park and the only certainty is that it won't be the same. In fact it may have the feel of one of those increasingly fashionable fun park runs held on most weekends throughout the year. It may feel as if there are more blackbirds, crows and chaffinches in attendance at this year's London Marathon. 

So on an early morning at the beginning of October, accompanied by no more than a couple of yellowing, brownish autumnal leaves and distinctive conkers that some of us can remember vividly from our school days, the London Marathon gun will be fired and 80 athletes may set off with very mixed feelings. It just won't seem right at all but then the whole year seems to have flown by completely out of synch with the way things should have been. 

You can be sure that the winner of the London Marathon will come from a country where running comes as naturally as drinking water. This year Kenyan four-time winner of the London Marathon Eliud Kipchoge will be trying to add to his expanding collection of winners medals. But it'll seem very ant-climactic for those who still look forward to a London Marathon that loves to be part of  British heritage, revels in its carefree abandon and never wants it to finish. 

In 1981 the first London Marathon was never won but shared by two runners. Even now you can see a smiling  American cocktail waiter carrying a tray alongside an elite athlete. It was raining but at the time that was a million miles away from anybody's thoughts  as the London Marathon conquered all the critics and cynics and a cultural institution was born. Most of us will do our utmost to work up some enthusiasm for this blue riband event but then we'll sigh for a while and hope that this never happens again.