The Growlersworld Interviews

INDEX

The Growlersworld Interviews is an ongoing quest, bringing you closer to successful and creative people in all walks of life.

A slightly changed format this time as what started off as a quality email quickly blossomed into a mighty oak!

Rawle Austin brings you, something a little different.

Hassan Noshib presents...

Porridge power: How to deliver birthday cards whilst running 26.2 miles.

The harsh reality

So, there I was, in December 2006 opening some mail sent by the London Marathon organisers.

BOOM!

‘Mr Noshib, your running number for the 2007 Flora London Marathon is 20702’.

My life was about to change….

On my way to work that morning, I was thinking, do I take the easy option and pull out because I’d only be able to train for around 3-4 months, or do I take the opportunity with both hands and go for it? (I’d not actually done any running for the previous 6 months!!).

Most runners attempting an April marathon will have already been running around 10-20 miles a week by December. I would be starting from nothing.

My choice was made.

Training

December 25th 2006. I still hadn’t gone for a run since receiving my marathon letter. The weather was mild for the time of the year, the turkey was clucking, there was no sign of Noel Edmunds on the telly and my legs felt like running.

I managed to run for a massive 15 minutes. It didn’t take me long to realise I was in danger of being beaten by the guy who runs marathons in the deep sea divers outfit. On return, my legs really hurt and there was no Indiana Jones film to look forward too.

Things could only get better.

For the next month I trained with like a man possessed. Even Rocky Balboa would have been scared of me. On the odd day, I’d started getting up at 5am get some extra mileage in. On one occasion, I was chased by a dog. Not a small dog.

A big ugly dog with teeth that could chew through a small car door. I didn’t get bitten, but took an awkward stumble on a kerb. I was 8 miles from home. ‘No problem’ I said to myself. Then I’d hit reality checkpoint: Its 8 miles almost entirely up hill you fool! I remember thinking I wish I had my bus pass with me.

February and March brought me valuable running experience. I’d need to get my long runs up from 14 miles to 16-20 miles and do at least 5 of them before the start of April.

This is to get the body used to being on its feet for a long period of time, to get the legs used to running when they are seriously tired and also to condition the muscles, bones and joints. Things had gone well, and by early March I had attempted a tough 18 miler with success.

Things were looking good. I had no injuries save for the little niggles all marathon runners get and I had no illnesses – save from the odd cold from being generally run down. But things were good. Late March. Time to break the 20 mile barrier.

The run itself was non descript. Even the weather was kind of boring. I’d got myself to just over 20 miles without a break and my legs……just stopped working! Seriously. I couldn’t move my legs properly for about five minutes.

The next half a mile home took me over 15 minutes. Jimmy Saville can still move quicker than that. My mentality took a beating as I realised that during the marathon, I’d still have 6 miles to go.

But I’d given myself a chance of finishing. I could now run for 3 hours in training and like the late James Brown I was telling myself ‘I feel good’. Unlike James Brown, my feet didn’t move as well as his.

The hottest London Marathon ever.

In the week leading up to the marathon, people kept asking me if I was excited or nervous about it. I can honestly say I was neither nervous or excited. Friends who were running were starting to show signs of nervousness or tension as were some close friends and family.

They had read and re-read all the all the info about marathon. What trains to get. Where the toilets were. Where to put bags etc etc. They became walking encyclopaedias on the subject.

As for me, I didn’t even know there were three different starts until a few days before the race, let alone what time my ‘start’ was supposed to go off. I was more interested in the funky red laces we got given in the marathon pack (which were too small for my trainers?).

The day started well enough, up before 7am, good porridge and banana breakfast and on the tube before 8am.

It finally sank in that I would be taking part in the marathon when I saw hundreds of other runners embark on the early morning journey to Blackheath. Oh! To bring back that pungent smell of deep heat on a crowded tube.

On arrival at Blackheath for the start it soon became apparent how hot it was and how this would drastically change how 36,000 people were going to run the marathon. It was really hot, but it was the same for all the runners.

We all had the same conditions to cope with yet some coped better than others. After training for so many months in much cooler weather I knew straight away I was going to struggle. The first few miles were really slow.

Mainly due to the crowd of runners bottlenecking at tight corners. I just tried to get into my rhythm as soon as possible and I had already ruled out going for a half decent time –even before I had run the first mile.

The funniest moment for me had to be when the charity runners joined up with the main ballot runners after the first few km (they had their own separate start to the main runners). A chap near me started booing at them when they converged, then everyone else joined in!

It was either that or when I passed a pub near Tower Bridge blaring out Livin on a prayer by Bon Jovi. The lyrics that were playing were “WOAH! We’re half way there! WOAH OH! Livin on a prayer!”.

The thing is, we’d literally just passed the half way mark, so the pub were probably playing that song on purpose. Quite a few runners sang along to it. Not me, I was saving energy for the struggle ahead.

My best moment was crossing Tower Bridge. The wall of sound from the huge crowd nearly knocked me off my stride. I guess the feeling I had would have been similar to when Olympic marathoners enter the stadium for the final lap.

How many other sporting events can someone like me, a less than gifted sports enthusiast, enter and be cheered by hundreds of thousands of supporters? The moment was special. I could feel the atmosphere amongst the runners picking up.

My eyes were peeled for some of my closest friends who would be around the bridge. I’d been carrying two birthday cards to deliver to two of them. (A marathon first perhaps?!).

I heard my name being screamed and out of the corner of my eye caught a bunch of people frantically waving in my direction. When I turned to look, it took me a split second longer for my brain to register it was a several of my dearest friends.

Instantly, I veered towards them, making sure I didn’t take out any other runners. I passed the birthday cards on and in return one of them passed me a Mars bar –already unwrapped. Result! Christmas, Eid and Diwali had come early.

Just seeing my friends gave me enough of a boost to keep me going for another 6 miles.

My concern at this point (like many I suspect) was the increasing heat and how I would cope. I had managed the fisrt half (13.1 miles) in around 2:06.

To put this in perspective, my best half marathon was more than 30 minutes quicker. I knew that my next 13.1 miles were going to be much slower and much much harder. I knew I had to be careful.

I got to docklands (around 16 miles) in good shape. I still hadn’t had a walking break. I’d been taking on adequate fluid, but knew that there was a lot of excess water in me despite sweating bucket loads. I began to lose my focus.

Docklands was an amazing experience. There were what seemed to be thousands upon thousands of supporters, charity stands, bands and even a DJ with sound system. Through all the chaos I picked out a voice that called my name.

I managed to spot who it was from a distance and made a short detour to say Hi. Again, it was another great friend who eventually went on to see me at 3 other points on the marathon course. I gained inspiration from this and composed myself for a few more miles because of it.

I was still going along nicely until leaving the Isle of Dogs (about 19miles into the race). Then my race collapsed. I got severe stomach and leg cramps. I decided to keep going to see if I could run them off. I couldn’t. They got the better of me.

I stopped to stretch out for about 2 minutes, hoping it would rejuvenate me. No joy. There was around 6 miles to go and my legs weren’t working. I could handle the stomach cramps, but because my legs were in so much pain and felt so heavy, I wanted to quit.

I looked like one of those dancers from the thriller video. I may not have been able to run properly, but I could throw some funky shapes on that 26.2 mile dance floor. Happy days.

I walked for about 10 minutes during which, hundreds of runners overtook me which knocked the stuffing out of me. I noticed though that they were going unusually slowly. I wasn’t the only one reduced to walking either. I got my thoughts together and dug in deep.

I said to myself for every minute I can run, even if its slowly, I will be getting to the end faster than just by walking. I would also reward myself with a 30 second walking break if I could do it. My run walk policy seemed to be working.

Despite my mouth being as dry as Ghandi’s flip flop and fatigue setting in, I was now feeling a bit more together.

It was terrible to see other runners suffering with the heat. Some were slumped over the hoardings trying to stretch out, some were just struggling to stay on their feet. There were others who were clearly trying to focus on just running in a straight line.

The St John's Ambulance volunteers did a fantastic job and deserve enormous praise, as well as the volunteers at the water and Lucozade stations who were incredibly kind and encouraging.

If anyone's still reading I'll go on about the positives! Yes, it was tiring and painful, but the incredible atmosphere, camaraderie and race organisation were absolutely fantastic. The crowds handing out bananas, oranges, water, Jelly babies and other sweets was so heart warming.

I cannot stress how good a job the St John’s ambulance volunteers did. They are the ones who deserve marathon medals.

The day so far had been thoroughly enjoyable. It was fun going through the lucozade drinks stops. Runners before me had thrown many half full bottles away. the orange drink sort of fused with tarmac in the heat.

Trying to run over it was like running through toffee. This guy next to me shouted out 'Is anyone actually enjoying this?' to which everyone replied 'No!' He then said 'And is anyone going to do this next year?' again, the mass reply was ‘No!”

I don’t remember much of 20.5 to around 23.5 miles. I put that down to the heat. It’s just a distant memory of people shouting at me trying to get me going again. At the Tower of London, the pain from the leg cramps had gone.

However, my stomach cramps were now crippling me and I had become a little dizzy. So, I’ve just got 2 miles to go and I’ve just seen two more sets of friends which was enough to get me doing my thriller video impression again.

A guy near me was talking to himself, geeing himself up. He was auditioning for the thriller part too. OW! Shamone! I was moving.

At the start of the race my running style could have been likened to Steve Cram in his heyday. Grace, poise and efficiency. Now I was moving like Pavarotti chasing a kebab van. But I was moving nonetheless.

I could see Big Ben. Not far now, but in a strange way, I don’t want it to end. After a brief stretching break, I knew once I got myself going again, I would not stop until I crossed the line. I turned the corner on Birdcage walk to see Buckingham Palace.

I didn’t realise how close I was to finishing. On to Horseguards…….the finish in sight. I had no emotion. No will to speed up, no desire to comb my hair and dust myself down for the TV cameras. I saw a runner wobbling towards the crowd rather than the finish.

‘That’s not going to be me’ I thought. I noticed coloured lines on the road leading directly to the finish. I decided to follow them to take the shortest, most direct route and to stop me looking like a Friday night drunk.

I could hear the commentator on the pa system announce Mark Bright, the retired footballer and BBC pundit was just about to cross the line. That’s when I felt I had actually done alright!

26.2miles. I had done it. There was no arm punching, no jump in the air. Just a big cheesy smile. I don’t remember feeling tired at the end of it. Just empty.

The heat had really taken its toll on me and I’d burnt close to 3,000 calories. I had done what only 1% of the population have done. I had run a marathon.

Reflection

I am now the proud owner of a 4hr 51mins 'personal worst' but feel as if I had won the damn thing. Despite the initial disappointment with my time, hearing about the sad loss of one mans life put things into perspective.

My legs were feeling ok and I was up and running again within a week. More importantly, a lot of money had been raised for the Terrence Higgins Trust by all you terrific sponsors (big thanks).

Would I run another marathon? Well, all I will say is I’m already thinking about my next big running effort. It’s going to have a twist to it and will take some planning and support. So, if you are still reading this, next time you see me or Rawle, ask one of us what’s the plan for next year is!

Peace and love

Hassan

Additional

As some of you may know, I am a keen photographer (there is an interview on this site for those that are interested). At the time of writing this, I received an email from the camera/photography company, Fuji.

It stated that one of my photos had been selected for the frontpage of their website. At the end of last year, Rawle said to me he expects great things from me with my photography.

Well Rawle, there you go! For the month of May 2007, my photo will be on the front page of one of the worlds top camera companies website. Breakthrough indeed.

Although it wasn’t a competition, being told my photo was on the front of a photo website made me feel as though I’d won something. It all started here on Growlersworld.com, that’s where my photos started to appear. So Rawle, this ones for you!

Tracey Chin - Writing her way Back to the Future!>

<Rawle Austin – Growler, taking a break from interviewing others, bites back!

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