Sunday was definitely a coup for the city. The weather was unbelievably perfect. It seemed the whole of Brighton & Hove were excited and curious about Brighton’s inaugural marathon. I almost had butterflies in my tummy as I read the runners tweets before the start. As I walked out of my front door, baby in the sling on my back, I felt something in the air (finally), not just a helicopter whirring above us.

As I hit the bottom of Southover Street, around the 4 mile mark, runners were pouring past. The sun was already hot at 10am, but the air was still quite fresh. Obviously that was fine for us spectators but I analysed the runners faces to see if they were suffering yet. I can’t imagine running that distance, let alone in the blazing sun. Lewes Road was completely lined with supporters, so many more than I expected at that particular point of the course. Not everyone was sleeping off their Saturday night excess. The majority of folks were continuously clapping, whistling, cheering, blowing horns and shouting words of encouragement. I’ve never watched a marathon before but it didn’t take long for Little L and I to join in. She was crying out ’yeeeeaaahhhh’ and ‘goooooaaaal’ (she associates cheering with football), while I politely shouted ‘well done’ and ‘keep going’. When I managed to spot dear old Norman Cook at the halfway point, he returned my ever-so-Sussex cheering with a ‘thank you’, impressive manners.

Of course there was the usual scuffle you get at events but no aggression. Just past the half-way point at Marine Parade, the route had narrowed by people edging forward, clambering for a view. That was despite the best efforts of organisers and Community Liaison Officers, some people didn‘t seem to care. The number of people crossing the road when the flow was still very crowded was clearly distracting for the runners. I even spotted a guy thrusting Jelly Babies in bemused runner’s faces.

I was torn when it came to move on from each of our chosen spectator points. When someone passed who seemed to be struggling I wanted to sweep them up and fly them to the finish. Then later when you see how many people made it within 6 or 7 hours, you realise why they kept going, to achieve something personal and amazing. My friend’s parents who were the oldest pair running together, Clive and Sheila Harburn, 70 and 74 years old, managed a time of 6:30. I couldn’t be more impressed. I was reliably informed by another runner, Marshall Matthews, that there were surprisingly many supporters at points in the course they least expected support, such as Shoreham Harbour.

Throughout the day I fought back a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye. Every time I clocked a runner with a dedication message on their shirts, ’For Dad’, people holding ‘Run Mum’ banners or small children shouting runners names out from the sidelines with words of support I came over all emotional. All it would take was for the Storm Trooper, Scooby-Doo or the ‘expletive-deleted’ American to go by and I’d be chuckling again.

Not only did the marathon invoke huge community spirit on the day the buzz continues on the internet where Brighton’s strong internet social network continued to tweet hours after. Astonishingly, some runners had blogged their experience literally hours after finishing. It was a storming first event, one that I predict will be even bigger and better in years to come.