Day 117: The Countdown Begins – With Bubbles, Cable Cars and Freeze-Dried Yoghurts

An Alarming Rest Day

The first of my rest days arrived with the cheery chirp of a 6am alarm, because apparently, my brain hasn’t received the memo about the whole “rest” part. Still, there was a strange satisfaction in rising early knowing I didn’t have to pound the pavements today. That satisfaction was slightly dampened—much like the weather—by a particularly excitable pollen count. Despite the persistent drizzle, the air was clearly full of microscopic mischief. The antihistamines made their valiant appearance and were taken with gratitude and a mild grumble.

A Journey Worth the Cable Car

This afternoon marked one of the most exciting rituals in the London Marathon build-up: collecting my race number. It involved a drive to the O2 followed by the delightfully surreal experience of sailing across the Thames in a cable car, which felt a little bit like commuting in a Bond film if Bond wore Asics and carried a protein bar.

Upon landing on the other side, the Excel centre welcomed me with the buzz of thousands of runners all teetering on the edge of nerves and excitement. Having done this twice before, I knew what awaited: a sea of branded enthusiasm, leaflets flying like confetti, and enough freebies to start your own niche convenience store.

The Radox Ritual
There were highlights, of course. I picked up a small pot of freeze-dried strawberry and hazelnut protein yoghurt from a very friendly person who looked entirely too happy about dehydrated dairy. I managed to fight my way to the Radox stand—because you can never have too much Radox. Ever. There was a Voltarol stand too, offering samples, but only if you submitted yourself to a massage queue that looked longer than the actual marathon. One has to have priorities.

Number in Hand, Eyes on Sunday

Clutching my race number, it hit me: this is real. There’s no turning back now. The magnitude of it all settled quietly in my chest—somewhere between pride and mild terror. Everything from here on is about freshness, calm, and not doing anything catastrophically silly.

Which brings us to tonight’s main event: the ceremonial bath, loaded with a reckless amount of Radox. Because if you can’t soak like a minor deity on a rest day, then really, what’s the point?