It all started in 1984…

I had already run a number of marathons when I started to weight train in the hope of improving my running. Not long after joining a local gym, I started training with a group of guys that were into bodybuilding competitions. On my training, White went from lightweights of high reps. to very heavyweights of low reps.

My days were taken up by weight training. during the daytime and running in the evening, fitted in around my family. The days I worked my legs at the gym was a day off from running, and a rest day from the gym. I did an hour plus run. I was talked into entering a couple of local bodybuilding events, so with my diet and fear of losing muscle, my running was curtailed to shorter runs. I tried it. After the success in the local events, I would try and get into the British Championship. I started off by winning Miss Liverpool. but an area win was still needed, so the Midlands was chosen for the following March. The training got really intense, with bench presses in excess of 100 kilogrammes. A common thing when we run out of weights, Mick (my husband) was used. He sat on my shoulders whilst I did squats.

Although Christmas is not the best time to be on a diet. My weight was now under 7 stone and with no carbs to run on, I blacked out on a couple of occasions while still turning out to run across country. The Midland competition turned out to be a disaster after the two categories of physique and figure were incorporated together. So my second place meant I could not qualify for the British Championship. Having had enough of living on salads, tuna fish and handfuls of supplements, overnight I decided to go back to running and the next day did an hour run. I had been given an entry for the London Marathon and I made-up my mind to run it. Knowing I would not be able to put many miles in, with only three weeks to go. I decided I would run it for a charity.

As my club, Tipton, we’re supporting the Special Olympics, that seemed the obvious choice. When I got in touch, it was decided because of my body building connection I would run it in a bikini in hope of gaining publicity. Without the risk of injury, I was only able to fit in a few runs which was not helped by the local press who would come in to take photos and cover the story. One photo I remember was of me running down the street in a bikini with the milkman looking on and scratching his head. How things have changed today!

I managed to get only one 2 hours run in during the three weeks ‘training’. The others varied from 1 to 1 1/2 hours, although I did manage to get around the Sutton Park. Race and a so-called 5 mile race in 34 minutes, 11 seconds, this was six days before the marathon.

The Thursday. Before I was due to drive down to London. I received a phone call which at first I thought was a joke. It was asking me if I would appear on the Terry Wogan TV show the following night as he was doing a piece about the marathon. On Friday I drove down to London accompanied by Mick and our two daughters and my sister. Arriving and checking into our hotel on the Strand just after lunch, with time for a bite to eat before we made our way to Shepherd’s Bush.

The show was filmed live in a small theatre. When we arrived, we were told to use a side door and we were met by the producer who showed us into the greenroom (which was a bit like a works canteen) The future then gave us some bad news; our girls were too young to be seen in the audience, but they arrange for them to sit in the control room. Although they could not see the set, they could watch everything on the monitors. Secondly, I was not going to be just part of the audience, but I would be interviewed by Terry Wogan. This turned out to be all scripted, with me telling him my name and then opening my coat to reveal I was wearing a bikini. I was very nervous when it came to it, but it went down very well. Also appearing on the show was a singer by the name of Bryan Adams. And Omar Sharif? Some kind of actor?

The next day after a steady run in Saint James’s Park and breakfast, still buzzing from the night before, we decided we would visit the marathon expo and then go on to see as many of the London attractions as we could. The Expo was held in. County Hall. Which was just over Waterloo Bridge and just a small walk from where we were staying. By the time we got there the place was heaving and I got rather embarrassed with people saying they had seen me on TV the night before. After walking all day, taking in the sights, it was getting late, so it was an evening meal in an Italian restaurant near to our hotel, to do ‘the pasta thing’ and at early night ready for the big day tomorrow.

On the day of the race. It was an early rise, too early for breakfast, so I donned my bikini and tracksuit and with Mick set off for the underground, leaving the girls and my sister to have breakfast at their leisure before taking up their position on the mall. As it was, not yet that crazy we picked up a quick cup of tea and slice of toast with jam before jumping on the train at Charing Cross and heading for Greenwich Park. The train was packed, and we had to stand all the way. When we reached Greenwich, we could not get out of the station, so a quick bunk over a wall and we were out and making our way through the park to my designated starting position.

Once at the start, I did the normal things that runners do; Join the long queues for the loo and walk and jog around to keep warm. As I weighed well under 7 stone and carried very little body fat, one of the problems I feared was getting too cold during my run. I hoped to remedy this by using baby oil. This is when I realised what I got myself into. When I removed my tracksuit, I was suddenly surrounded by hundreds of runners, press and film crews, all trying to take pictures or talk to me.

Mike somehow managed to cover me in baby oil (which sounds a bit fetish), whilst I was being pushed and jostled all over the place trying to hold 20 conversations at the same time. No thought had been given to where I would wear my number, so I commandeered a sweat band, put it around my waist and pinned my number to this. I put on a bin liner, made my excuses about having to warm up, and escaped.

Once I was jogging around and mingling with the crowd, I was just like any other runners till it came to line up for the start. I. slipped off the bin liner, then all mayhem broke loose again when I was lifted over the safety barrier.(There were no shortage of volunteers for this) to join the runners at the start line.

The plan was for Mick to chaperone me and carry a T-shirt and track suits, just in case I needed them. We were going to run a steady first half and if I felt OK, pick up the pace in the second-half. Although we were well towards the front, it still took nearly 4 minutes to cross the start line and 13 minutes to cover the first mile. By the time we reached 3 miles where the two start lines joined, I was being tripped up by the gaggle of runners that had now surrounded me (with Mick shouting ‘giver her some room’ or words to that effect) We were still only just running at 10-minute mile pace, but the crowds took my mind off it. 6 miles came and went with our entourage still in tow, but I knew the further we went the more of them would drop off as it was obvious that most were running well above their limits. Turning off the Woolwich Road, we headed towards Greenwich Pier. You could hear the cheering from the top of the street as we went under the bow of the Cutty Sark, the course narrowed and the crowd, now 10 deep, could reach out and touch you.

The route wound its way round Surrey Docks as we reached the 10 mile point covering the last 10 kilometres in under 50 minutes. The pubs were now open and the crowds just got bigger and bigger and I greeted all the wolf whistles, catcalls and the odd remarks with a smile and a wave.

Going down Jamaica Road and Tower Bridge was in sight. As we reached it, Mick moved to one side and Bob Wilson appeared from nowhere to interview me live on TV again. All I could say was “I’m doing fine”.

We passed halfway and we were headed for the Docklands. This was pre Canary Wharf and was mainly open land or derelict buildings and it greeted me with an eery silence, even the runners had stopped talking. I did not need to be asked twice as I knew it was now the time to get serious and pick up the pace, and we were soon rounding the Isle of Dogs at under 7:30 minute mile pace.

The miles were flying by now and it was not long before entering St Katherine’s Dock and crossing the metal bridge to pass the Tower Hotel at 22 Mile and under the Tower Bridge, with crowds cheering from above as well as the sidelines.

Once under the bridge, my pace was interrupted slightly by the infamous cobbles. Climbing out of the tower grounds, it was back to silence again and we went down the underpass to emerge and be greeted by the crowds on the Victoria Embankment.

A kiss and good luck from Mick and he disappeared into the crowd to make his way to the reunion area, leaving me to enjoy the last two miles on my own. I left the embankment to start the ascent up Northumberland St. A very narrow one with very high buildings, giving it a claustrophobic feel and making the noise from the crowds deafening.

As I approached the top, all I could see was a mass of people that seemed to stretch across the road, leaving no way for the runners to get by. But as it curved around and opened out into Trafalgar Square. It was unrecognisable as it was covered by 10s of thousands of people who gave a big cheer as I appeared and pass by through the gates of Admiralty Arch and onto the Mall.

The mall was run then in the opposite direction along the full length,  which seemed so wide as I ran down the middle looking for my girls. They spotted me before I spotted them and must have told everyone around them my name as they were all calling me as I went over to them. A quick kiss from the girls and a hug from my sister, pose for a few photos and I was on my way again, only glimpsing up as I passed the 25 mile point in three hours thirty minutes.

At the end of the Mall, I looked up and Buckingham Palace was in front of me. I wonder if she is watching and if I should cover up. No, I just waved and let’s get on with it. I’m not going to get an OBE anyway!

Into Birdcage Walk now, and I can see Big Ben, not so far. As it grew nearer, I knew it would not be long and I can rest my arms from all this waving. Up the climb onto Westminster Bridge and over the finish in 3:39 minutes and that’s it. All over with everyone saying well done and a kiss from someone. After receiving my medal and being covered in a space blanket, the attention soon faded away and I came down to earth and realised what I had done. Run 26 miles.

I was feeling very low and needed to eat something, so I gulped down a Mars bar in one go, followed by a carton of orange juice. My big toe was aching, so I took off my trainer to reveal a black toenail. A quick trip into County Hall to have a needle put in to let the blood out and I was soon making my way up to meet Mick and the girls. The meeting point was Jubilee Gardens and they had only just arrived when I got there as the crowd made it difficult to find their way out from the spectator spots. I was pleased to see the girls who had more to tell me than I did to tell them. I hobbled back to the hotel for a good sleep before we went out on the night for a well deserved meal and glass of wine. And a late night as the girls kept us up, still talking about their day’s experiences.

The next morning Mick, one of the girls and me went for a steady jog to try and get rid of the lactic acid from my legs. It was then down for breakfast. When we entered the breakfast room, everyone was saying “here she is. The page three girl”. And I wondered what they were talking about. Then about four of them showed me the mornings papers with a full page picture of me in my bikini. It was not Page Three of The Sun, but page seven of the Daily Mirror, and everyone seemed to have a copy, even the hotel owner (who never gave us a discount though.)

Before we made our way home, we decided to have one last look around Covent Garden (and to buy a copy of the paper). When we got there they were doing some filming. It was for the new Magnum film and we were asked to be part of the crowd. We saw the film a couple of years ago on Sky and the scenes of Tom Selleck running across Covent Garden were filmed from behind uss, so you can only see the back of our heads.

Having had enough for one weekend, we made our way home. It was dark when we arrived and only the odd neighbour was about to make any comment. The girls were up early the next day, excited to go to school to tell their stories. As I went about my day everyone was talking about the weekend. Mick’s Nan had purchased loads of papers and given them away to his family, and my mum and dad had videoed all the clips of me on the TV. For a long time afterwards at races, I was always mentioned as ‘the Bikini lady’ and used to get loads of comments. (I still get the odd ones today) I got fed up hearing, “oh, hello, I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on”

I suppose I could have cashed in on it with offer to run marathons at home and abroad, but it had service purpose in collecting money to send local athletes to the Special Olympics and I wanted to break 3 hours 30 minutes, which I did three months later at Sandwell. (But that’s another story.)

The ironic thing about it was at the time Mick was advising a lady marathon runner who ran 2 hours 40 minutes in the London Marathon and we used to attend races together. I would get more recognised than she did. This seemed unfair to me. I wish it had been the other way round and I had run 2 hours 40. All I did was run round London half naked. Probably a common thing down there.

I always get asked if I would do it again. Well, I still have the bikini and it still fits, although I am not so skinny now and 23 years older, so don’t somehow think it would have the same appeal. But I would like to think I have another marathon in me, so who knows?