A Marathon Prologue - after a fashion

So I am running my first marathon a couple of months ago and getting near to the finish.It's the business end of the race and I am prepared for it. I am prepared for the pain, the 'upanddown' emotion, the mental toughness. What I am not prepared for is the question that suddenly enters my head, "Where is the finish line?" You see I like to prepare in detail, but the map of the course wasn't great to start with and on top of that the organisers had to make last minute changes due to the bad weather. So have I run enough loops of the park? Can I turn off and head down the avenue to where the finish line should be? Well clearly not as my gps watch says that I have only run 23 miles. My brain is starved of oxygen and my legs want to keep going forward ,but my head decides to turn me around. I am now running back the way I came and for a hundred metres I haven't a scooby what I am doing. It is at this point that Pete O, my fellow Raven and seven times marathon finisher, turns the corner and shakes his head at me in disbelief while his finger points in the direction I need to be heading. Without question I obey and my legs approve, albeit that I am now covering the same patch of ground for the third time. I'm embarassed and I use the redfaced, adrenalin fuelled moment to slowly pull away from Pete. Thank goodness that there are few spectators on this section. The final loop of the park is completed, I am back at the fork in the path, the watch says 26 miles and I can confidently head to where the finish line should be. The crowds grow bigger, the noise gets louder and I am suddenly taken to attempt a sprint finish down the 0.2m mile of beautiful tree lined avenue remaining. Then the thought hits me that I am heading towards the start line! Well I am too tired to care now. The legs, who ever they belong to for they are not mine surely, are moving of their own accord and have no breaks to slow them down. There are so many people gathered around the gantry that I can not see the big digital clock ticking away the hours, minutes and seconds. As I cross the line I know that all is well and realise that in a spirit of serendipity the organisers decided to use the line for both the start and finish of the race.The marshalls that were obscured by the well wishing friends and family are now all too obvious. They thrust bananas at you, water at you, a goody bag at you and that all so important finishers medal. I take the moment to celebrate with a bout of sports induced asthma. I wheeze an apology to the girl that wants me to move further down the finishers funnel, but I can't move. That sprint finish wasn't a great idea evidently. However, I soon recover and move over towards my family and friends that have come to support me today. This is the day that I ran my first marathon. I am no longer a marathon virgin and in roughly six months time I will do it all again at the Virgin Money sponsored London Marathon 2015.