“Death by stereo!”

Sam Emerson, The Lost Boys

I’ve noted that the one thing missing from these blogs, apart from entertainment, is the lack of stats. I love stats. Who doesn’t? Want some? No? Tough titty.

Thanks to a number of complicated calculations I’ve completed via my fingers and toes, I can tell you that I’m 69% of the way through Marathon training. Additionally, I can technically run 85% of the Marathon distance. Also, my body is 74% broken.

As we approach the last full week in March, I’m on 519 miles for the year. A total I wouldn’t usually hit until the end of May. In fact, by the end of the week that will pass 550.

My average long run on the weekend has been 17.1 miles. Average time spent running a week – 7 hours 31 mins. Yeah, yeah Vorderman, get to the point.

The point is thus; I’m doing ok. I’ve done what I said I would do, which in itself wasn’t anything complicated. Follow the plan, do it properly.

See all the above as my 10 week pep talk. Yes I’m tired. Yes some of the runs are getting tedious. But I’m still standing, and I’m nearly there. Eye of the fucking Tiger. We can do this.

After a Weights session on the Monday, it’s back to running on Tuesday. The plan has me taking a break completely this week from any of the Club sessions. So instead of the track, I have to head out for an easy 8 miles.

This 8 miles turns out to be the most enjoyable run in weeks. In fact, since I started this plan of pain 10 weeks ago. It’s been a beautiful Spring day, and the days are getting noticeably longer.

I head down the Wagonway, the first time I’ve run on it since the 12k Trail Run quagmire in January, and it’s gorgeous. The Sun is sitting low in the sky to my left, still giving off some warmth, the mud is gone, and everything just feels greener. Add in that I’m listening to my Fender playlist, and this is just about perfect.

At the end of the Wagonway I drop down to the sea front, following it all the way back to the Dome. As I approach the finish, a kid in a Liverpool top is coming directly towards me and so I can’t resist. I look him dead in the eye and slowly mouth ‘TWO-ONE’ at him. He’s about 8, but I’ve never felt so alive.

It isn’t all sunshine and rainbows though. I do my cool down stretching later and I feel really lethargic and sore. It’s odd, as I felt so great earlier on, and it was the least intense Tuesday I’ve had in months.

The weather is set to stay nice for a few more days, so I decide why not stick to the Wagonway for my 6 easy? I’m not usually a fan of out and backs, but with the Wagonway I never mind.

As I’m about to head out, my teenage daughter informs me she’s at her mates – who lives down the sea front – and when I’ve finished my run can I swing by and walk back home with her. That’s nowhere near the Wagonway. Bloody teenagers.

So I hastily work out a random 10k that sees me run through the streets, onto the Lighthouse (again somewhere I haven’t run to in a while) then finish at the Dome. It’s not as nice as last night, but it‘s still mild and light and enjoyable.

Sadly though, it’s time for Thursday Intervals. The Drunk Uncle of the week. This week’s session is especially epic. 1 x 2 miles at Marathon Pace, 3 x 3 miles at Marathon Pace. I’m going to aim for 9 min miles. Slightly faster than what I plan to do for the Marathon, but a pace I know I can easily maintain.

It’s another nice Spring day and evening, although there is a little bit of a wind. It’s the kind of wind I don’t mind though. It just makes getting out there much easier. I think back to some of the shite I’ve had to drag my arse out into these past 3 months. I’ve never been so delighted to see Spring.

After company last week, this one I’m doing on my own. I’ve now firmly abandoned the repetitive loops round the local estate. When I was doing 1km or 1 mile Intervals then they served their purpose. But 3 miles? No thanks.

I’m going to follow the route we did last week, along the coast, into Shields, round that, then back again. This ends up being less awful than I anticipated. The whole session comes in just under 13 miles, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’s done, that’s all that counts.

Friday morning I’m up for my Easy 4 and Hills, and I can definitely feel all of those 12 from the night before. As I stand outside my front gate waiting for my GPS to kick in, I inadvertently let out a big sigh that echoes round my street in the early morning silence. I think that sums it up.

This week’s long run will be on the Saturday. Ironically, this is because I’m out on the drink with the running club in the evening, so Sunday morning is just not going to happen.

This long run is supposed to be structured with Marathon Pace miles followed by recovery pace miles. However, just like the last time I was meant to do one of these types of long runs, I’m not going to follow that.

Instead, I’m going to do the whole 21 miles in what I *think* will be my Marathon Pace. I’m going to go off a tiny bit quicker, then try and maintain it, rather than starting slow then pushing myself to too fast a pace later on. Something I think I’ve been guilty of.

It’s a nice morning, not the warmest, but the wind is westerly. Which means I’ll be running into it for 9 miles or so when I turn inland. It’s not a strong wind, but it’s constant with a bit of chill in it.

When it’s time to turn at the 13 mile point, it’s a relief to now have it behind me for the next 8. Despite that wind, this is going to plan, and I’m holding steady at a 9:20 average pace.

At mile 15 I do feel a little fatigue. Nothing major though, and to be expected when I haven’t had my usual Saturday rest day. I’m maintaining my pace, getting a bit faster actually, and the last few miles are completed in warm sunshine.

21.2 miles done in 3:17:11, at a 9:17 pace.

It probably goes without saying, but I’m delighted with that. Far better than I planned, and whilst not ‘comfortable’, certainly not uncomfortable.

Every week I keep expecting shit to hit the fan, and every week it’s landing in the bowl. And flushing first time. Or something.

5 weeks left. Hang on in there.

Mood: Powering through.