When I was a kid, my grandparents used to take us on the train to watch the thousands of people running through the streets of London for the marathon. Nanny would lead us to the side of the road, where we'd park up for 20 minutes to watch the fastest runners check their watches and quicken their pace. Then she'd march us off through the side streets to catch another flow of runners.
My grandad who cheer, 'Come on John,' but whenever I asked him who he was cheering for he'd say anyone and everyone. There were people holding up big banners and hunches of balloons. Some had shakers. There was even a steel-tinned drumming band one year.
The best bit was the fun runners. People dressed up as rhinos, clowns and soldiers. Anything goes with the fun runners.
Eventually, we'd get to the finish line and watch hundred of people run past Buckingham Palace and across the finish line. Beyond it, there were fields of silver sheets, keeping the runners warm as their hearts slow back to the pace of the rest of us.
By the end of the day, we would squeeze onto the crowded Underground, back to Liverpool Street. Occasionally, someone would get up and let a runner sit down in their place, Becca and I would gorp at their medallion in awe. They'd just run for 26 miles!
That's my memory of the marathon. Do you have one?