04:59:03

It's all over. After a year's training, fundraising and fretting about my unbelievable chafing, on Sunday April 25th I completed the London Marathon. And I didn't get carried away on a stretcher!

(This is the fantastic surprise pre-Marathon Pasta Party - much more fun than the Expo, with friends, t-shirts, banners, cup cakes and numerous delicious carb based dishes!)

The day itself started with a very early morning start as we headed over to Greenwich with a 5am alarm call. To be honest I don't think I actually slept at all, but we made it to the charity breakfast, only slightly delirious, for 7am. Help the Hospices had put on a spread for all its runners. I had a slight panic over uncooked porridge, but after fuelling up, it was time to slap on some factor 50.

Now, sometimes we can have regrets in life. And there's no point crying over spilt milk, but there is a point in crying over spilt suncream. I didn't want to get sunburnt; it was forecast to be sunny and a week later I was having to stand up in front of 100 people and make a Best Man's speech. Didn't want to have red horns. But I wasn't counting on looking like Casper the Friendly Frigging Ghost for the whole 26 miles after I'd smothered myself in baby suncream and ruined all my official photographs. Doh. To quote Sally Bedding at 19 miles: "oh, it was lovely to see Paul, but he did look awfully grey".

So to the start I went, definitely behind the elite runners, but at least starting in front of the oversized fancy dress runners, except for 1 giant ice cream. And I was on the telly! Go here and watch the video - at about 7 seconds I'm in the top left hand corner, just behind the Strawberry Cornetto.

I must say without doubt the highlight of the race was seeing my amazing cheerleaders. Thank you to everyone who came - you were all incredible, and I was so happy to see you all at Greenwich, Canary Wharf, East London and finally at 25 miles on Embankment - you lot made the whole thing worth it.

The race itself was actually mostly thoroughly enjoyable - I didn't stop until 10 miles and was feeling pretty good.

Then 20 miles hit. It wasn't the infamous "Wall". It was just ridiculous searing pain through both of my legs; every step made me want to cry and my playlist started to make me feel violently ill. So I took my earphones out and just enjoyed the crowd. I'd heard amazing things about the London Marathon spectators - and it was really true. People lined the whole route and were constantly shouting out your name from your t-shirt, giving high fives and holding out Haribo sweets to give you a tiny burst of energy. Never thought a jelly fried egg could taste so delicious. People I'd never met shouting my name! I think they might have read the blog. 

Some parts I didn't enjoy. Hanging out on the Isle of Dogs has never been a strong desire of mine, and now and again I really did question what the hell I was doing. But the good outweighed the bad, and eventually, after an incredible amount of support, I crawled over the finish line sub 5 hours, with 57 seconds to spare.

Here's me doing a cheeky jig at 25 miles - obviously it was all for show - I'd been intermittently crawling and weeping for about an hour previously.

Here's a picture of probably the best pint ever tasted, with my medal, that I wore for at least 24 hours afterwards. Oh and a shiny gold jacket that made me feel like Jimmy Saville.

So, for all the training, chafing, carbing and Beyonce ridden playlists, there was really only one reason that I originally embarked on this journey.

My Dad was a great sportsman, and to be honest, I was always pretty rubbish at P.E. Not that I didn't try.. I was just kind of over it at secondary school. Always picked last for football, last in from cross country. So to actually finish a marathon.. I guess it's kind of a big deal. I hope I make him proud.

Almost 3 years ago to the day, my dear old Dad passed away after a long and difficult illness. During the last few years of his life, he had carers come and go, some great and some not so great. In the last 12 months he had been admitted to a palliative care ward and for me this was a mixture of sadness, relief and frustration. A Hospice is not just a building - it is a way of caring for people. Help The Hospices' vision is that everyone at the end of life has the best possible care and they offer services to support hospice and palliative care professionals as they support their patients, like my Dad. Hospices are grossly underfunded by the Government and rely on contributions from charities like Help the Hospices.

Your donation will make a difference so please, please, help us reach the fundraising target. Donations can be made easily online at http://www.justgiving.com/paulandgracelondonmarathon2010

Thanks for reading.. until 2011!

Pauly McK xxxx