“Go Mo Go” urged the bright pink signs waved in the air excitedly on the streets from Newcastle to South Shields. Cheers for each one of the 50,000 participants braving a savage autumnal heatwave in the cause of athletic ambition or fundraising freneticism.
But a special crescendo was reserved for Sir Mo Farah above all, a collective ovation that escalated as the four-time Olympic gold medallist arrived at the end of the road, right arm aloft in salute, as he officially signed off his illustrious career with fourth place at the Great North Run.
At the age of 40, no valedictory seventh win at this famous half-marathon had been expected for the Briton and none was conjured. Last year’s world marathon champion, Tamirat Tola of Ethiopia, took 59 minutes and 58 seconds to secure victory, after Farah was ruthlessly cast adrift from the leaders before the sixth mile was out.
It underlined the fallibility that even the greatest must eventually confront. The reason why the Somalia-born Londoner is certain that now is the time to take his leave. “With the old Mo,” he reflected, “nobody would be able to get that gap. I’m not a machine. Your body can’t quite do it. I’m being honest in saying if I can’t be the best in the world and mixing it with these guys, why are you just doing it. So it’s been an amazing career. But it’s really important that at some point you know when to call it a day.”
His greatest night was more than a decade ago, the zenith of Super Saturday at London 2012 when he, Jessica Ennis and Greg Rutherford each plundered gold for Great Britain within barely an hour. “I look back and think: wow, how did we do that?” he reflected.
There were further Olympian heights scaled in Rio four years later. Yet Farah has been on a lap of honour for some time now, ever since his doomed attempt to qualify for the delayed Tokyo Games of 2021 to pursue a hat-trick of golds in the 10,000m. He came up short of the required standard. Sport, inevitably, marches on.
Relentless and bruising training runs in the valleys of Kenya and the mountains of southern France have turned into rolls of the dice. Good health, injuries, a bruising cycle on repeat. Still good enough to compete, even occasionally to prevail. Enough value in the Farah brand to handsomely supplement his pension fund, stardust added to events such as the London Marathon and this Great North Run despite powers on the wane.
No British athlete has come close to his roll of honour, with 17 major titles on the track and national records stretching from 1500m up to the marathon. An astonishing range. And yet inquisition has accompanied acclaim. At his peak, he was coached by the American Alberto Salazar, who was eventually banned from the sport for doping offences after extensive murmurs of misconduct.
Farah came through regular and rigorous testing with a spotless record. Innocence asserted, he has asked us to take him at his word. What does he hope his legacy might be? “Just someone who’s always committed, who gave it 110%, no matter what situation that we’re in. And someone who can overcome many struggles, in many different ways,” he said.
Judging by his warm reception on Tyneside, the public have not let the fog cloud their affection. “He’s just inspirational,” said Maxine, from Gateshead, one of the banner-happy brigade. Sian, from Darlington, said: “We wanted to be here because this was his moment.”
Farah’s training partner, Andy Butchart, who came sixth, said: “To be part of Mo’s last race was pretty special.” The Great North Run’s founder, Brendan Foster, said: “Guys like Mo don’t come around very often.”
This annual showpiece will retain star power. Kenya’s Peres Jepchirchir won the women’s race in 66 mins 45 secs. In her wake followed the likes of Bill Cooksey, a 102-year-old gently circumnavigating the course to raise money for Durham’s NHS. And Keith Turner, a blind runner following the sound of a bell to set a world record for completing this distance untethered. Heroes, just of a different ilk.
What next for Farah? No more running, he insisted. No Saturday mornings at the local parkrun near his south London home. Just a planned treat tea of a calorific curry and then the school run on Monday morning.
“It’s going to be very difficult,” he concluded. “Because I’m one of these athletes where I’ve got to keep on moving.” He jogged off to more bows and more selfies, as the signs that had spurred him to the end became souvenirs of an era complete.
