London Marathon

The crowds at the marathon

In the morning I got myself up and did laundry, with the intention of going out to watch the London marathon at around noon, when I could see all of the front-runners pass by the 22-mile mark, which is where my running club was meeting to cheer on the runners.  Noon passed, and my subsequent goal of making it by 1 PM was also for naught, until by 2 PM I found myself out by Tower Gateway to watch the race.

Handing out beer to the runners

I arrived as the 4-hour people were passing by, although I found that I wasn’t the only late arrival.  Devo had also just arrived, as had The Blonde, so I had good people to sit and chat with as we drank beer and watched the runners stagger on by us.  I noticed that almost all of the runners were wearing black ribbons, in obvious remembrance of the events in Boston less than a week ago.  Apparently they stood for a moment of silence at the start of the marathon as well, I thought a very touching tribute to those who died or were maimed in that tragedy. 

Runners wearing black ribbons for Boston

Devo was very kind and gave me some of his precious US-imported beers to drink, which were truly quite lovely.  I really enjoyed just hanging out and talking to him, as we randomly had conversations and watched the runners pass on by. 

Eventually around 3:30 PM, we decided that the straggling runners were no longer fun to watch, and decided to head to Waterloo, where the group has traditionally regrouped in years past.  I said good-bye to Devo, and he said he would cycle to the pub and see if he could beat me and The Blonde as we took the Tube. 

Massive crowds!

It was good to have a bit of a catch-up with The Blonde, for as much as I might raise eyebrows at her lifestyle choices at times, I really am quite fond of her.  She just makes me laugh, you know?  And truly does sympathise about the plight of the single girl in London, being one who suffers through it as well.

Straggling runners

She expanded a bit more on what she’d told me on the phone earlier in the week, that she’d finally broken up with the guy she’d been seeing, admitting that she just wasn’t attracted to him, despite his overall niceness and generally amiable character.  I had to admit, I could sympathise with how she described it, as I have as well far too often met that “really nice guy” who there is absolutely nothing wrong with, but you just don’t like them in THAT way.  I just wish she wouldn’t encourage them so much at the start, as it really seems to just sucker-punch these guys when she realises that she isn’t actually attracted to them.   Which does make me wonder how she ends up  sleeping with these guys only to decide a few weeks later that she was never really attracted to them. 

I'm in the background here, chatting with someone

We got to Waterloo station, where since I’d texted the Tall South African to tell him where we were going, he called to ask us to wait a few minutes until he could come join us, as he was unable to find the pub on his own.  Somehow the 2-minute wait took more like 10, and then he had a good laugh sneaking up behind me and tickling me when he arrived, which caught me quite by surprise.  He has such a devilish sense of humour sometimes! 

We got to the pub and I fell into conversation with random groups, although mostly with Devo.  The Tall South African and The Blonde seemed to be using the chance to catch up with each other, which was nice, as they claim that their relationship is a really solid friendship at this point, which I like to hear (even as I have my doubts about how truly “over” each other they are).  I did get quite the laugh when I looked over at one point and saw the Tall South African, The Blonde, and the most recent ex-boyfriend in conversation.  Boy that girl really knows how to bring awkward groups together!  I checked in with her privately at one point to see if she needed any rescuing, and she assured me that although it was tremendously awkward, she was managing it. 

Somebody took this picture of me in the pub, I don't know why

Finally though, they decided to head home, although I was still in the middle of pints with Devo, so I stayed. 

I was actually having a lot of fun chatting with Devo, where he showed me pictures of his flat with a giant Olympics statue that he’d bought at auction, we talked about making Manhattans, and he insisted that I needed to come back to his and we’d make Manhattans.  I finally begged off at the end of the evening (after he’d bought me FAR too many drinks and the room was quite frankly swimming), as I was aware of the hour growing late and my need to pack and get some sleep before leaving for Paris at the crack of dawn.  He was quite insistent that we needed to go back to his and make Manhattans, but the cloud of Paris hanging over my head made me be good and go home. 

It was only later that I remembered Devo mentioned that he’d dropped his wife off at the airport that morning, and had been being as affectionate with me as always.  It almost made me shake my head for a moment and think, “Devo’s married, he wouldn’t do anything.  Would he?”  Even with a place to himself, he wouldn’t do that, would he?  Although the fact that I’m even asking, and my poor track record with married men, perhaps tells you something.  Still, let’s blame it on too much alcohol and less than clear thinking with a less than clear head.  And I went home, so all is well.

He’d definitely bought me too many drinks however, as packing whilst tipsy proved to be quite the challenge.  Still, I finally got everything together and got myself into bed for at least a few hours sleep before Paris in the morning!