“I’ve not got much to show for my time on this Earth, John. 36 pairs of shoes and a set of Babyliss crimpers.”

Kayleigh, Car Share

Monday 31st August – It’s a Bank Holiday Monday as well as the last day of summer. Allegedly.

After the slightly dramatic 20 miler yesterday, I was half expecting to wake up sore. Instead, I feel fat.

I spent most of yesterday, post run, eating. Just grazing on shite. As such, I feel podgy and like I’m carrying a sack of spuds in my midriff.

My usual virtual yoga class is not on later as it’s the Bank Holiday, so I do around 30 mins in the morning.

I then do my weighs session just before lunch and feel a tiny bit less rotund.

Being a Bank Holiday and the end of summer, it pisses down with rain most of the day. Course it does.

Tuesday 1st September – September has arrived and suddenly the Marathon is very real, despite it still being over 3 weeks away.

It’s also Race 1 of my clubs Winter Grand Prix this evening, if you wanted any more reminder that summer is over.

My plan is to do a 4 mile warm, run the 10k race at a fast but not eye balls out pace, then get a lift back.

So I’ll have hit my ten miles, with a bit of intense stuff thrown in.

I set off on my warm up run and it’s all good. Then around half a mile from the finish, an old friend appears, like the ghost of Christmas past.

My grumbling Achilles.

Last seen making a nuisance of itself in the halcyon days of 2022, it’s decided to make a guest appearance minutes before a 10k race and 3 weeks before a Marathon.

If this was a soap opera, it would be like a presumed dead spouse turning up at a wedding.

For fucks sake.

This is all I need. So far, it’s just a feeling – I’m not in pain, it’s just doing its usual grumbling. But once, in 2018, that grumbling turned into a tear where it felt like I’d be stabbed.

I was planning on ‘racing’ this tonight, but nowt daft. I did a 45 minute finish last year, and have improved on that massively since. So I’m going to aim for that again – quick but not too quick.

There isn’t much to say about this race. I stick to a 7:20 pace pretty much throughout and clock a 45:29. So, spot on with what I wanted to do.

My Achilles also feels ok. I still have ‘that’ feeling, but it never bothered me, and it isn’t bothering me now.

However, after I get home and have something to eat, I start to feel it. Again, it’s just a feeling, but it’s not right.

Not great, but not a disaster just yet. Tomorrow I’ll get myself a tube support and see how it feels. If I need to rest, I rest.

Bollocks.

Wednesday 2nd September – As predicted, my Achilles is stiff when I get up. I said Achilles, you filthy minded harlots.

It’s not painful though. It’s still just a ‘feeling’ that something isn’t quite right.

I pop to the Chemists on my break and get a tube support. I feel much better when I get it on, even if it is psychological.

Or maybe it’s the Ibuprofen I’m popping. Either way.

When I head out, it’s raining. And I mean proper pissing down. So much so, I pop on my base layer for the first time in forever. Summer is over kids.

I start to run and the leg feels ok. The only weirdness is from wearing a strap again.

I distracted by the rain as well. It really is raining hard and I’m getting soaked. This is what it’s all about – soaking wet and with a sore Achilles. Proper running.

I get round with no problems until the very last 0.10 and the Achilles starts to grumble. Just a little reminder, if needed, not to think this is all solved with strapping and drugs.

Bollocks.

Tomorrow is thresholds. That will test it. Unfortunately.

Thursday September 3rd – I was expecting to wake up with either a stiff or sore Achilles, but neither of these things happen.

It feels more comfortable than yesterday, but still not right. I did foam roll a bit last night, and plan to do that throughout the day.

Tonight is 3 x 3 miles of thresholds, 2 miles of each at threshold pace, 1 mile of each at marathon pace. So far less intense than previous weeks, but not a cake walk.

Foot strapped up, more as a comfort blanket thing than a necessity, I set out.

We’re expecting rain again, but so far it’s dry. I do the usual threshold route along the coast to Blyth, turning at the farm.

However, I stay on the main road rather than through the dunes. I want to try and avoid the up and downs. Hills aren’t great on the Achilles, so I’m playing safe.

Once I get going, the foot doesn’t bother me. The run would have actually gone perfectly, had it not pissed down with rain again on the last mile. I get soaked again.

Actually, that’s not true. I go to take an Electrolyte gel before I turn and drop it on the ground. No problem, I’ll just pick it up.

I rip the top of it off, squeeze to pop it in my mouth, and it all explodes on me from the bottom. It must have popped when I dropped it. Fucks sake.

On the plus side though, this is the last threshold session that involves miles. The last two are back to Kms. A sign that we’re nearly there.

Friday September 4th – The foot feels less Achilles now and more ankle. It feels like when you sprain your ankle but it was weeks ago, if that makes sense.

It’s hills today but I’m again going to err on the side of caution. Rather than do the hill reps on the massive ramp on the prom, I’m going to do a much gentler one in my local park, which is an old reclaimed Quarry.

Again, once I get out, the foot feels fine – even on the hills.

I’ve now done three runs on it, two of them quite intense ones, and it seems to be coping. Hopefully, it stays as a niggle and nothing else. Thoughts and prayers.

Saturday 5th September – Maranoia has set in today as look to tomorrow’s 20 mile run.

To make things worse, Newcastle are at home, so I won’t have a chance to give my foot a real rest.

It’s an early kick off and ends 2-2. Aware of what I need to do tomorrow, I curb my drinking after the match and get back for tea time.

When I get back, I note that the ankle is a little bit tender. There is no bruising or swelling, but definitely tenderness.

I have an early night and prepare myself mentally that I might not get through the 20 in the morning.

Maybe I should have stayed in the pub.

Sunday 6th September – It’s the day of judgement. Can my ankle/tendon/whatever hold up and survive 20 miles.

I’m up early and it feels ok – still no pain, swelling or bruising.

Having said that, I was awoken at around 3am by what felt like a cramp in the back of my leg that seemed to rattle right up my Achilles.

It was over quickly, but it’s not a good sign, I’ll be honest.

It’s a nice morning and it’s not raining. Summer is over and a sign of this is that I’m out just before sunrise for once.

Within the first mile, I get feel the foot. Great.

However, it soon settles down and I get into my pace and rhythm.

It’s my usual route and everything is going fine. No pain, no niggling.

At 15 miles I feel a slight pain in my calf. However, I think this is just the support digging in.

I obviously get a bit paranoid about it, but it soon passes and I complete the 20.2 miles in 2:57:03.

The weirdest thing is, not only did the foot feel fine, it feels fanfuckingtastic the rest of the day.

Somehow, I’ve got through the week. That’s the last ‘heavy’ week, now three weeks of slightly lower milage and intensity.

Hopefully, that means whatever is going on with my foot will ease as well.

I’m not counting any chickens though.

Mood: Phew