Newcastle Half Marathon

July 15, 2025 notbuilttorunhalfmarathon, Running2 Comments

“Why does this keep happening to us?”

Holly Gennaro, Die Hard 2

Running 13.1 miles, with the sole aim of hitting a PB, bang in the middle of Summer, during a heatwave. Welcome to the Newcastle Half Marathon, next race on the Notbuilttorun 2025 Grand Tour of stupidity.

To be fair, when you sign up to any race between May and September in the UK, you’re asking for trouble. Our weather here is both predictable and unpredictable. It’s pretty boring and mundane mostly, but occasionally it does something where, we as a nation, let out a collective ‘holy shit.’

This weekends ‘holy shit’ comes in the form of another mini heatwave. Thankfully, this is the North East of England, so you can always minus off 5 degrees from the rest of the country.

But we’ll come back to the weather later.

So, the Newcastle Half. I’ve done this one before, last year, its debut year. It’s not very exciting if I’m honest. A long out and back along some ordinary looking country roads. It’s in the Newcastle Post Code, but doesn’t pass any points of interest. Apart from the Airport Runway. If that kind of thing floats your boat.

However, I’m not criticising or being a dick about it. It was really well organised and, as unexciting as the course was, I knew that it was perfect for a PB attempt.

Last year, I didn’t even entertain a PB. I entered solely as a favour to someone to help pace them to a 2:10 PB (mission accomplished). This year, I had the freedom to attack it, if I fancied it.

I do have the Great North Run in September. But it’s the biggest Half Marathon in the world, which also means the most congested Half Marathon in the world. It’s a Fun Run with 50k people in it. It’s like going to Tescos for your food shop three days before Christmas. Chaos.

But far more enjoyable than going to Tescos. Obviously.

No, if I want to use my Marathon fitness to score a PB, then doing this one is a no brainer. Local to me, a straightforward course, and with a field of only 800 runners. Plenty of space to put my foot down.

I said we would come back to the weather, so let’s get it out the way. Leading up to the weekend, they are predicting another heat wave for the UK. Even us peasants in the North East won’t escape. Early forecasts indicate it could be in the low 20s at the 9am start.

That’s not good. Thankfully, the good old North East coast has other ideas. By the Friday, it’s predicting that it will drop to a much more manageable cloudy 17c. Although it will ‘feel like 20c.’

I’ll take it.

True to its word, when I get up on Sunday, it’s noticeable cooler and the sky is a thick blanket of grey cloud. I’m not falling for that one though. The Sun is definitely going to pop its head out, and it’s definitely going to get warmer.

As such, I lather myself in sun cream, have a runners breakfast (the trusted Porridge, Banana and Protein bar combo) and I’m out the door to catch my old friend The Bastard Metro.

Remarkably, as I have to catch two of these to get to the Start, it doesn’t let me down. Miracles can and do happen. I’m at the Start with about 45 minutes to spare.

The Start (which will also be the Finish) is Kingston Park Rugby Stadium. Quick confession, I’ll watch and appreciate any Sport. The only big one I do neither with is Rugby. It’s like Roller Coasters to me. Does nothing. Leaves me dead inside. Each to their own though, it’s probably just me.

Rugby slagging aside, it’s a good venue, and one of the main reasons I think this is a well organised race. Clean and plentiful toilets, loads of room to sit, warm up, or just chill beforehand. If it did rain, we also have cover.

***Kingston Park Stadium. For those who like that sort of thing.***

Baggage dumped, Banana and Gel consumed, and short warm up completed, the Start comes around in no time.

They have a good system for the Start here as well, that I remember from last time. They get Pacers to stand by the side of the Stadium with huge placards showing finishing times, and then ask you to stand in position, before leading everyone out in a procession to the Start. Clever.

It’s not completely perfect though. I stand between the 1:40 and 1:50 placards, next to two fairly loud girls who chat about how they’re hoping to get under 2:10. Which is all very commendable, don’t get me wrong – no criticism here. Except GO AND STAND IN THE SUB 2:10 PEN AS INSTRUCTED THEN. I needed to get that out, I’ve been bottling it up for days.

Time to head back for a weather check. It’s still cloudy – grey cloud – but it’s noticeable got quite humid. Something important to point out at this juncture – I’m not wearing my Club Vest. I know, outrageous. Two reasons for this.

Number one, I wanted to do this one incognito. Despite being a local race, very few of my club colleagues are interested in doing it. I think I saw two club vests. In fact, you see very few of any club vests. This very much feels like a non-club runners run.

Second reason, is the heat. I have a much more lightweight Puma vest that I wear for my summer weekend long runs that is far more airy, loose, and comfortable in the heat. As soon as there was a whiff of a heatwave, I made a decision I was going with it.

With the warmth and mugginess already being felt at 9am, it’s a good decision. The gun goes, and we’re off..

I mentioned at the start that this isn’t the sexiest of courses, and from the start we’re out onto a straight country road. I forgot to mention that there is also a 10k going on – they will all turn back at 3 mile (obviously) – so it’s difficult to gauge paces.

Having said that, the sub 1:50 pacer flies past me and moves ahead. Which is really not right, as I’ve started quite quick and am currently doing a sub 1:45 pace. He may just be a bit excited, or forgotten what he’s meant to be doing. Either way, if I was someone after a 1:50, I’d be pissed with him.

After about a mile, I pass him and never see him again. My first mile is a rather tidy 8:06. For reference, to hit my PB, I just need to come in under an 8:20 average pace. With one eye on the heat, my plan was to aim for around 8:10-8:15.

My next two miles are 7:59 and 8:00 respectively. So, I’m kind of fucking this up already. However, that’s because I’m not feeling the heat. At Mile 3 we lose the 10k runners, the field opens up, and I’ve settled into a rhythm.

At Mile 4 we take a sharp right turn, and for the next 2 miles we have a constant and steady climb. That’s reflected in my next times – an 8:05 and an 8:08. Still, nicely below my target time, and I cope with the hill with little problems. In fact, look how much I’m enjoying it.

We take another sharp right at mile 6, but we’re now going downhill for half a mile, before yet another sharp right. This is the halfway stage (good at maths me), so I take a gel.

We’ve now got a couple of miles of steady down hill, which has the opposite effect from the two we climbed, by giving me two 7:53s on mile 7 and 8.

Two quick lefts, and we’re back on the straight road that will take us to where we started. 4 miles left, but there are a couple of quick climbs to contend with in there.

Still, I seem to have really hit my stride now. Miles 9 and 10 are a 7:53 and a 7:54. I’m suddenly now very much aware that, barring any kind of disaster, I’m pretty much guaranteed a PB.

I come into civilianisation at Mile 10, the village of Dinnington, and I feel great. Aware of my time, I’m in good fettle, and the people that come out to cheer start to spur me on.

At 10.5 miles though, I feel the heat for the first time. The Sun has come out and it’s roasting. 2 and a half miles left, but I’m suddenly feeling the effort I’ve put in.

Despite this, I push on. Mile 11 turns out to be my fastest of the day – a 7:50. Mile 12, despite now feeling the heat, is a 7:55. I haven’t gone over an 8 minute mile since mile 6. At around the mile 12 mark, there is another official photographer, so I pretend to look like I’m pissing it.

We’re back in Kingston Park now, and it’s just a bit of road then into the Stadium for the finish. Mile 13 is a 7:52. More interestingly though, I clock that I’ve just hit 1:43:56. Hold the phone. I suddenly realise that sub 1:45, which I had no expectations of doing, is on.

So I put on the jets and see what I’ve got left. Surprisingly, quite a bit. I sprint finish, passing two other runners, and stop my watch on 1:44:50. Boom motherfuckers.

Well, what a turn up for the books that is. I came for a sub 1:50, I left with a sub 1:45. Whilst the weather behaved itself to a certain extent, and we didn’t get the heat a lot of the rest of the country was experiencing, it was still warm. And I’m usually shit when it’s warm.

Not today though.

I do feel knackered when I’m finished. I sit in the shade to take on fluids and eat some snacks. I then head straight off for the Metro and don’t have to wait long for either, meaning I’m back in the house before midday. Everything is coming up Milhouse.

That’s it. Every distance, from 5k to Marathon, I have set a PB in this year. I still have more races planned to see out the year, but I’m done with PB slaying. It’s fun running from now on.

Next up, I’m off on Holiday to the South of France, and my running gear will be coming with me. You wouldn’t expect anything less.

Tynedale Pie and Peas 10k

July 12, 2025July 14, 2025 notbuilttorunReview, Running1 Comment

“I get it, you’ve caught the scent of a lesser stag in your nostrils”

White Goodman, Dodgeball

One of the biggest pieces of advice I was given after completing my Marathon, other than walk up stairs backwards (this works by the way) was to sign up to as many races as possible.

The idea being twofold. Firstly, it’s a great way to maintain your running mojo, keep away the post marathon blues, and give yourself new goals to hit.

The second reason was that Marathon training should give you levels of fitness you’ve never experienced before. Make use of those newly acquired super powers by smashing out fast times in races.

I have to say, both of those schools of thought have been spot on. I haven’t hit what many call the dreaded Marathon Blues. I’ve still got my mojo. The two races I have completed since, both around 10k, have been fast and enjoyable.

So with that in mind, here we are once again, a third 10k race, 7 weeks post Marathon. It’s the Tynedale Pie and Peas 10k. Not a race I had planned on doing if I’m honest, but they had me at ‘Pie.’

Well, kind of. My mate has started running again, felt like he’d got a 10k in him, and I noticed this one was close to where he lives. So I thought, why doesn’t he do it, and why don’t I do it?

It’s not one I’ve done before, but I do know it’s a beautiful part of the world – a mixture of Countryside and Riverside. But let’s be honest, its real selling point is the plate of pie and peas you get when you finish. Winner.

It is one of those pesky mid week evening races however. A Wednesday evening, with a 7:30pm start. This is also a rare one that I’m going to need to drive to. All for Pie.

Is it time to mention the weather? Course it is. In summary, it’s pretty fucking weird. When I leave the house, it’s windy and pissing down with rain. More like January than July. Halfway on the drive there, the clouds clear, and its glorious blue skies. Make your mind up.

After a slight detour to pick up my mate on the way, I find somewhere to park, and we’re off to the Pub. Sadly, not to get smashed and call the whole thing off, but to pick our numbers up.

The pub is busy and full of club runners huddled together. I’m in my Club Vest, but I’m aware there are only about half a dozen of us signed up for this one, and even then, there is only really one guy that I know to talk to. The others are all those Mythical Beasts in the fast groups. I’m with my mate anyway, so it’s a good excuse not to join in with the club tribalism.

Number easily picked up, we’re off to the start. Which is a mile and a half from the pub. Warm up run anyone? Nah thanks. We take a nice leisurely stroll there instead. The weather has now settled on blue sky and calm. It’s a typical warm English Summer evening. The walk to the start is also up a scenic and quiet country road. So far, so good.

The start is at Ovington, a normally quiet little village, but now with 300 runners jamming the only road that runs through it. None of the locals appear to be out, other than four women standing by the side of the road quaffing wine. Fair play ladies, fair play.

The Race Director addresses us all with instructions, which everyone goes quiet to listen to. Well, apart from the two blokes behind me, who chat loudly to each other during the whole thing. I’m sure it wasn’t anything important.

Anyway, it’s 7:30pm, and we’re off. I wish my mate good luck and shoot away. That sounds like a dick move, but this is his first 10k in a while, so his plan is to run the whole thing in under an hour. Me, I’m going to race the fucker. Because, why not.

The first mile is on the road we walked up and is all downhill. Lovely. The pace is quick and I pass quite a few runners. It’s a 7:27 mile, and before we know it, we’re in the neighbouring village of Ovingham. I know, they didn’t have much imagination when they named shit round here.

Here, we’re climbing for the first time, but it’s short and over quickly. We’ve now got a very scenic mile and a half of riverside running until we hit the next village of Wylam.

The field has opened up, it’s far less crowded, and it’s another down hill section. I could get used to this. As such, I’ve really hit my stride now. Mile 2 is a slightly slower 7:34, but spoiler alert, this will be my slowest one of the night. When I enter Wylam at Mile 3, I clock a 7:28. We’re halfway, and this is going rather well.

Wylam is lovely, I know it and have run and cycled through here a few times. It’s famous for two things – a Brewery, and George Stephenson. The latter, the father of the Railway, was born here. Well, sort of. The house is slightly further down the river, but Wylam claim him.

Due to the Brewery, you won’t be surprised to hear that Wylam is full of lovely pubs. Tempting on a warm evening when you’re sweating your bollocks off.

***The Boathouse. Just one of the temptations in Wylam***

We wind around Wylam, avoiding the beer (I recommend a pint of the Jakehead, if you’re ever in the area) and onto the old Wagonway as we pass Mile 4, which is a 7:25.

Here, a guy who’s been around me since around Mile 2, tells me he thinks my keys might be falling out of my pocket. Which is a bit random, seeing as I’m not carrying any.

I’m confused as first, but then I get it. I don’t pin my race number on with safety pins. I use magnets. I can’t recommend this enough. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and my Bib and magnets stay intact every time.

However, it makes my Bib really noisy. Other runners have passed comment on it. Some of them jokingly, some of them passive aggressively. This is what he’s talking about, he thinks the noise of my Bib is keys jangling. I mean, this could actually be a dastardly ploy to get me to stop and check, but I thank him anyway.

Next up, the most scenic part of the course. We’re going to cross the Tyne via the old Hagg Bank Railway Bridge. Think of it as a smaller version of the Stand By Me one.

Once over the Bridge, we’ve got about a mile and a half left of flat riverside trail that will take us to the Finish which is…er…back at the Start. My Mile 5 is a 7:26, meaning my pace is still good and I must be hovering somewhere around a cheeky PB.

The last mile is a lovely run in by the River, and it really is quiet now. I can see a couple of runners in front of me, but when I look behind I can’t see anyone. I could be lost like.

I cross the line, with my last Mile a 7:17. Hit the jets on that last one. My coaches would be proud. It’s also a 46:06, knocking 4 seconds off the 10k PB I set at the Cookson in May. I have to be honest, I never expected that, so it’s a nice surprise.

The Mythical Beasts from my club are at the finish and I have a quick chat, before making sure I stay on the line to cheer my mate home. He comes in, looking good, with a 56:47. Well under an hour, he’s massively happy with that, as he should be. A good nights work for both of us.

Therefore, there’s only one thing left to do. Pie and Peas. We head to the Pub and get in the queue. When we reach the front, there is even a selection. Meat, Veggie, Gluten Free, or Vegan. Something for everyone, I think you’ll agree. To say we demolish said Pie and Peas would be an understatement. Hey, I’ve earned it.

You’ll note the lack of Race Photos in this Review. That’s because there aren’t any. There didn’t seem to be anyone taking them, either Amateur or Professional. Which is odd these days, but just goes to show how small a race this was. In a way, there is something quite nice about that.

So, another post Marathon race completed, another PB, and another enjoyable evening. Mark this as one I will definitely do again.

Next up in what is turning out to be the 2025 Grand Tour, it’s Half Marathon time. Now that one, I am planning to attack and hit my PB. Fingers crossed…

The Blaydon Race

June 21, 2025July 15, 2025 notbuilttorunBlaydon Race, Running2 Comments

“Ride like the wind, Bullseye!”

Woody, Toy Story 2

There’s a dad joke that everyone does at my local running club.

‘You doing the Blaydon Race?’

‘No. When is it?’

If you’re from the North East of England, then I hope for at least a small chuckle. If you’re not, then I expect tumbleweed.

You see the Blaydon Race always takes place on the same date every year, the 9th June. That’s because it’s based on a very famous song round here, that you’ll be shocked to know is called ‘The Blaydon Races.’ That’s about a race. In Blaydon. That happened on the 9th June.

That original 9th June occurred way back in 1861, and it was Horses, not Ken from Accounts in his Vaporflys, running it. It was such a success, they asked a local composer, Geordie Ridley, to write a song about it to drum up punters for the 1862 meet. Bit like asking Justin Timerlake to strut about, grabbing his crotch, singing ‘Ow, the Stanley Cup final is next week, shumon’ or something.

To quote Run DMC, it went a little something like this..

Tap those feet

There’s even quite a famous painting, based on the song, that is in turn based on the race. Anyway, never mind a Horse Racing Meet, this looks more like some of the nights out I had in the 90s.

***William C. Irving’s The Blaydon Race***

Fast forward to 1981 and the local Running Club, The Blaydon Harriers, cleverly decide to organise a race that gets as close as possible to recreating the original route mentioned in the song.

In short, History lesson over, every year on the 9th June there is a 5.8 mile Race that runs from Newcastle to Blaydon. Still with me? Lovely.

This year, the 9th June falls on a Monday night. I’m looking forward to it if I’m honest. I’m really enjoying my running at this point in time. I’m running well, not feeling any pressure of having to hit times and paces, but knowing that I can go fairly quickly without it being an uncomfortable or painful effort. It’s a good place to be.

What was that? I haven’t mentioned the weather yet? You know me too well dear reader. It’s going to be shit. Depending on which App you believe, it’s either going to rain lightly or rain heavily. But it is definitely going to rain.

Aware that I may be drenched at the finish, I pack a change of clothes. I also pack my stuff into a waterproof bag inside my normal backpack, as I know my baggage will be sitting on the grass at the finish, exposed to the elements. I’ve being doing this far too long.

One of the Pros of working from home, is that I’m able to get changed, sorted, and out the door for my old friend the Bastard Metro in plenty of time. There are loads of runners from my club doing this tonight, therefore there’s quite a few at the Station when I get there.

When we arrive, there is rain in the air, but it’s light. Which is just as well, as we’re going to be standing around it in for a while. Despite the race not starting till 7:30pm, everything has to be on the Baggage Buses by 6:20pm.

One thing it isn’t is cold. So I may be wet, but I’m warm wet. Which sounds dodgy when you say it out loud. I mentioned earlier that there were shitloads of runners from my Club doing this one. So we all head to the front of the Law Courts for a big group photo. The Mayor, never one to pass up a photo op, jumps in on it. The cheeky bastard.

Despite the song telling us to start outside the Balmbra’s Music Hall in the city centre, we’re on the Quayside. For two reasons really. Balmbra’s is long gone for one. The second reason is just speculation, but I imagine the surge in popularity of the race has meant that, logistically, it’s far easier to manage down here by the river.

I do a mile warm up, then wait for one of my fellow runners to have a quick piss. At this point I bump into someone I used to work with who I haven’t seen in ages. Unfortunately, whilst I enjoy the catch up and salacious gossip about my ex-colleagues, I lose track of time. And don’t get in the Pen in time. Whoops.

There is no way of getting in now either. Not only am I not in the Pen, I’m at the back behind a huge crowd and can’t even push my way through. Not that I would anyway. That would be a dick move.

You know what? Starting at the back might be fun. It’s a new challenge. My gun time will be shite, but at least it should make things interesting.

I’m so far back, I don’t even hear the gun. I’ve no idea even if the race has started. It must of though, as those of us at the back are funnelled into the pen. I eventually get over the line at around the 5 minute mark.

Remember 2 paragraphs ago when I said starting at the back might be fun? It isn’t. It’s a fucking nightmare. I’m not blaming other runners though. Most people have got into the pen based on their pace. I’m the one who’s fucked up and hasn’t.

Therefore I’m having to duck and weave around much slower runners. Again though, I can’t stress enough how much I’m cursing my own stupidity at this stage, and not anyone I have to pass. They all started at the right spot. El Dipshit here didn’t.

***I people dodge on the way back home***

The first two miles follow the road along the River. This is the part I spend most of my time zig zagging around other people. Unsurprisingly then, that these turn out to be my slowest 2 miles of the night – a 7:42 and a 7:36. Still not too shabby though.

We then pop out at Scotswood Road where, as I expected, the field opens up and there is a bit more space. That’s because I’ve managed to pass the majority of the back of the field, coupled with it being a dual carriageway and a wider road.

We’re going to be on Scotswood Road for 2 miles ish. It’s raining, but like Andie MacDowell, I haven’t noticed. 4 Weddings is a shite film by the way. I’m British, I’m allowed to say that. I’ve hit my stride now anyway. I feel strong. I feel like my pace is fairly quick but sustainably.

And my pace is quick. Mile 3 is 7:15. Look at me. I go over the Scotswood Bridge onto the South side of the River and hit a 7:19 Mile 4. I’m amazed at how good I feel at those paces. Marathon and Club night training doing its thing.

Just the Blaydon Highway, another dual carriageway, to go before we turn into Shibdon Park where we’ll finish on the grass. My Mile 5 is another 7:15. I think it’s fair to say, I’ve made up a lot of the ground from starting at the back.

I’m starting to feel it a little bit now. I definitely couldn’t sustain this pace for a 10 miler or a Half Marathon, that’s for certain. Having said that though, my last .80 of a mile is still a 7:21.

So, onto the field, last push to the Finish line, and I’m over in 43:39. I will take that and then some, especially when you consider my start. I’m also quite impressed with my second 5k. Signs that, maybe, there’s an even faster 10k in there somewhere.

***Race photos are brutal, aren’t they?***

It’s still raining lightly when I finish, and my bag is out in the open as predicted. So putting stuff in the waterproof bag was a good idea. Go me.

What I also like about this race is the Finishers pack. You get a running shirt, which I’m always grateful for, plus a sandwich and a can of Beer. All bases covered.

I spot one of my fellow club runners and we head straight for the free buses back to the start. This is really well organised, we’re straight on, and it doesn’t take us long to get back.

Being British, we head to the Pub. Course we do. Quite a few of the crew are there, but it’s quieter than usual, the rain has got a bit harder and put a few off.

A couple of pints down the hatch to quench the thirst, before I head off with a couple of others for the Metro home. Which breaks down halfway back. Because it’s shit.

Metro shitness aside, it’s been another good night of racing. Yes, I fucked the start up, but I’m more than happy with how I ran. Plus, I enjoyed it. That’s the key. Yes, getting a good time is great and all, but if you’re not enjoying it, then what’s the point?

Next up, the Tynedale Pie and Peas 10k in July where, guess what, you get Pie and Peas at the end. I mean, what’s not to like?

The Cookson 10k

May 28, 2025July 15, 2025 notbuilttorun2025, Cookson 10k, Running2 Comments

“So, the Labyrinth is a piece of cake, is it? Well, let’s see how you deal with this little slice…”

Jareth, Labyrinth

Now that pesky Marathon is out the way, it’s time to get back to racing. Well, I don’t really have a choice. I’d forgotten I’d signed up to a 10k race just two weeks later. Why am I so stoopid, to quote the brilliant Sifan Hassan.

This is also a 10k race with a mile climb in it. That you do twice. However, it is a hill I know well, as I grew up at the top of it. My youth was spent, walking, cycling, running, and drunkenly staggering up it. The latter when I was bit older, obviously. Therefore, I like to think I have the ‘muscle memory’ advantage. I tell myself that, anyway.

When I was a kid, I used to watch this race every year. I would sit on the wall outside my house and clap the runners as they passed. I always said that one day I would do it. It took a couple of decades, but eventually I did.

I know, that sounds like a proper shit film. And it would be. At least if we got Michael Bay to direct, it might have some ridiculous explosions in it. What am I even talking about. Who knows.

Back to the Cookson, post-Marathon I’ve been ok. My left hip has been a little sore, but not when running and not to the point where I’m in any real pain. I’m just aware of it.

My biggest problem has been the need to retrain myself to run fast. Or untrain my Marathon pace. And I have 2 and a half weeks to do it.

Someone at the club has told me though, having gained a tremendous level of fitness from the training blocks, I should be hammering out belter 10ks. I’m not convinced.

I want to try and match or better my Cookson time from last year, which will require a 7:58 pace. On my runs leading up to here, I’ve been nowhere near that. However, in a race situation with others, it’s amazing what you can pull out the bag. Or so I hope. As a precaution, I spend the 48 hours leading up to the race shouting ‘faster you bastards’ at my legs. That should do it.

The great thing about this race is that the Start and Finish are less than a mile from my house. So I really have no excuse. I’m allegedly at the top of my running fitness game, with no ball ache logistics getting there and back. Basically, I have no excuses if I’m shit.

Just taking a look at the course, it’s 2 laps of the below. As I mentioned earlier, from the green dot to the roundabout just before the 7 is the hill. What goes up, must come down though, so from just before the 8 to back to the start is downhill. So, two long climbs, two long drops.

Last year, my build up wasn’t exactly ‘elite’ standard. I was in Greece on a family holiday, only landing 4 hours before the start time. My hydration and pre race diet wasn’t great either. I think I sweated out about 20 gallons of Mythos. Despite all of that, I got a PB. No, me neither.

As tempting as it was to prepare for this year in a similar fashion, downing copious amounts of Mediterranean Larger on the days leading up to it isn’t really recommended. It’s not big, and it’s not clever. It is fun though.

After an attempt at the weekend to do 10 miles at a faster pace, I follow this up with an easy 5 on the Monday. Then on the Tuesday, I skip the Club session and have a rest day. Look at me, what a pro.

So to Race night, and it’s not a bad evening for a run, 11c and sunny. There has been a manky coldish wind kicking about for a few days. As usual, it’s coming in off the sea, but in this instance that’s a good thing, as it will be behind us on the climbs.

The aforementioned start (and finish) is at a local school. As I half arsedly walk towards it, it’s the usual pre-race scenes I’ve grown accustomed to. Pockets of beasts doing shuttle runs, sprints, slow jogs, whatever their poison is. This used to intimidate me. Now I’m tired just watching them.

I dump my stuff in the school and have a good old chin wag with some of my fellow club runners. I’m still drinking off the glory of my Marathon exploits, in that I’m still being asked about it, so it’s nice to continue boring people with it nearly 3 weeks later.

After a few minutes of holding court, we head down to the starting corral. This isn’t a massive race, 500 places with only about 400 of those usually turning out. Due to us starting on a pedestrian path though, it can feel quite congested at the start.

Some quick words from the Race Director (basically, be careful now) and away we go. As soon as we start, we hit a sharpish right turn. This bit is always a little chaotic. I marshalled this point one year and thought I was going to die. Death by a thousand Vaporflys, trampling over my head.

I feel great once we start. Perhaps too good, as I notice I’m doing sub 7 min mile pace. Whoa there. I slow down, but not too much, seeming to settle on around a 7:40 pace for this first mile up the hill.

Still, that’s quite quick for me on a 10k. Once at the top we pass my childhood home, and I give the aforementioned gate post I used to sit on and watch this race a slap as I pass it. They’ll stick that in the movie.

It’s a quick right into the Lonnen. This is another trip down memory lane. The Lonnen is basically an old short country road that connected two villages. It was at the end of my road, so I used to play down it as a kid a lot.

Not only that, it’s also where I started my running journey. It’s a quiet road most of the time, and as it winds round fields, it’s sort of like being in the countryside, even though you’re not. So perfect for running. Sadly, it’s also doomed. 5,000 houses are about to go up around it. Progress eh?

Nostalgia aside, it also marks the point that we’re going to be heading down hill for a mile or so. It’s a lovely early summer evening, and flying down through the fields with the sun starting to set will never get boring. It’s nights like tonight why I run.

As I head round to complete Lap 1, I’m aware that this is going quite well. I feel quite strong and my pace is in for a Cookson and 10k PB. However, Lap 2 of this is always the tester. You’ve just done a quick 5k, can you climb for a mile?

I said at the start of this review that I had the advantage of muscle memory when it came to this hill. Well, it’s time to test that theory. I attack it from the off and feel great. I’m passing people who are huffing and puffing on the way up, turning to them as I pass and shout ‘WHAT YOU GOT?’ That last bit may be a lie. However, I know that these people will shoot past me on the flat and downhill. That’s life. For now, I’ll have my moment on the hill.

I’m maintaining pace once I hit the flat and still feel strong. This is going great and, whatever happens now, this is going to be a really enjoyable run. One of those where you’re not fighting to keep going, you feel loose and fast, but I’m also not arsed about what everyone else is doing. If people are passing me on these closing stages, I’m not even noticing to be honest.

I cross the line in 46:32, with a pace of 7:25. It’s a 10k PB, 4 minutes faster than last year. I’m given an official time of 46:30, finishing in a respectable middle of the pack 182nd. Not a bad nights work.

As the course itself is just over 6.2 miles, my official 10k PB pings up as 46:10. If I never run a quicker 10k in my life, I’ll be absolutely fine with that. This is my ‘home’ course, so if this is the one my PB will always stand against, it would be quite profound. If you believe in that kind of shite.

Because of all the above, it’s fair to say I’m delighted with this run. When races come together like this, weather, pace, body, mind and enjoyment, you embrace them.

Next up, the iconic Blaydon Race in June. Hopefully, I bottle whatever I’ve got at the minute and take it with me. Especially if it’s a bottle of EPO. I’m kidding again. I have no idea where to buy it.

The fact is, I’m having fun with my running at the moment, and isn’t that really what it should all be about?

The Belfast Marathon

May 14, 2025July 15, 2025 notbuilttorunBelfast, marathon, Running3 Comments

“If anyone is feeling anxious, worried or maybe you just want a chat, please, please do not come crying to me.”

Sister Michael, Derry Girls

It feels like an age since I wrote a Race Review. The last one, it transpires, was in January, when I covered the North Tyneside 12k Trail Run.

What I do know is that I’ve really struggled to write this post. I think I’ve rewritten this whole first section half a dozen times. Honestly, if you think this intro is shit, you should have seen what got binned.

Before I cracked on with this review, I went back and re-read a blog I posted way back on the 1st January. It talked all about my motivations and expectations of training for and then running a Marathon.

It does make interesting reading. Well, it does to me, as it’s a mindset 18 or so weeks ago of someone stepping into the unknown. There’s a teeny bit of fear in there, not overtly, but you can certainly smell it.

Fast forward to May, and I’m on a plane, heading to Belfast, ready to run that Marathon. I’ve brought the family with me, a nice extended Friday to Tuesday weekend. Time for sightseeing, with a pesky 26.2 mile run squeezed in on the Sunday.

We arrive on the Friday after only a 40 minute flight. Honestly, I’ve been stuck on the Metro longer than that. I love Northern Ireland straight away. Our Taxi driver is loud and a bit mental, exactly how I like them.

Our hotel is right in the City Centre. It’s also going to be on the route of the Marathon – mile 9 to be precise. This gives the family a great and convenient spot to see me on the day. They can literally have a lie in, breakfast, then saunter outside. Don’t worry family, I’ll do all the work.

Saturday morning, after an extremely restrained breakfast where I stay well away from the all you can eat fry up buffet, I’m off to the Expo to pick up my number.

Again, the location of the Hotel is a winner here, as the Belfast ICC is only a 10 minute walk straight down the road. I couldn’t even get lost if I tried. Signs, literally, of what is to take place tomorrow are already on show.

I’ve never been to a Marathon Expo before. Obviously this one is much smaller in scale to the major ones, but it’s fairly busy and very well organised. We’ll come back to these later, but there are three separate events on the Sunday – The Marathon, The Marathon Relay, and the 8k Walk. Everyone is filtered through to the right area.

As I come in, one of the Volunteers asks ‘Marathon?’, and for the first time I get a tiny ping of nerves. It passes quickly though, and I pick up my number and pack from the lovely ladies on the desk. The nerves quickly disappear, as my instincts about this race seem to be right. I wanted my first Marathon to be fairly chilled, no drama, no stress. A short walk to a busy but not crazy Expo is a great start.

I can even leave my bag here today, which I do, to save the stress of messing about tomorrow. It’s a good start, and other than making sure I catch one of the Shuttle Buses in the morning, all of the logistical stuff is done. Easy peazy.

In the afternoon, we do the City Bus Tour. This is a great way to do some sightseeing whilst also staying off my feet. It’s also a recce for the course. The tour takes us round various parts of it, including the hilly bits, which I want to see in advance. The verdict? Hilly in parts, but nowt dramatic.

In the evening, I deploy the Eat Pasta, Run Faster principle at a lovely local restaurant. This is all going too well. I get to bed early, feeling far too relaxed and prepared with the whole thing.

I sleep surprisingly well and, much to my daughter who is sharing our rooms disgust, up at 6am to get ready and put some fuel down me. Porridge, Battle Bar, Banana. Breakfast of Champions.

I’m staying just round the corner from the City Hall, and this is where the organisers have provided free buses to get us to the start at Stormont. Again, this is well organised, and I get on one with no issues. I look around and it’s full of lots of very serious game faces. I just look out the window, still feeling quite chilled about all of this.

It’s quite a quick journey to Stormont and we’re there in no time. It’s a beautiful morning, and Stormont looks stunning in the early sun. It’s a fantastic place to start any race from.

It isn’t too busy just yet, so I head for my final toilet stop. There are only 12 portaloos, which isn’t great if I’m honest. I always find that most races, big or small, tend to balls this up. By the time we start in a hour, the plants and bushes around Stormont have had an extra water, as runners dive into anywhere to avoid the queues. I have to imagine anyone going for a nice stroll around the place later that afternoon would be enjoying the strong smell of piss.

The Start line itself is on a downhill coming out of Stormont. Again, it looks fantastic. On the TV footage that I watch later, they have a drone shot of this where it looks even more spectacular.

Two other guys from my Club are running this (they blame me for planting the seed) and we meet up and chew the fat before the race starts. This really helps with the nerves, having two familiar faces who I’ve trained with, here with me, miles from home.

You know what though, what nerves? I’m not nervous. We talk this out and realise none of us are nervous. We’re feeling confident, no fear. We’re ready, we’ve put in the miles and trust the process. I’ve got a tiny ping of excitement, which is a bit weird. Really, I should be shitting myself.

The starting pen is very relaxed. I mean, there are no pens, no barriers, just see where the pacers are and position yourself accordingly. Handshakes with my club buddies, we all go and stand where we kind of want to be. For me, that is a little behind the 4 hour pacer. I want anything sub 4:10, but I’m not nuts enough to try and do anything stupid. I promised my wife.

No, today is about running the race I trained for. Run the whole thing, no stopping, keep a steady pace to get me in the 4-0-something ballpark. The horn goes, let’s do this shit.

I’ve not mentioned the weather yet, which is weird, as I’m properly fucking obsessed with it. Well, it’s ‘perfect’ for running. Allegedly. 11c and a bit of a breeze. It’s Sunny (and it will stay that way all the way through) but it will never get warmer than 12-13c.

As soon as I come out of Stormont, the crowds are great. This will be repeated throughout the course. Whilst there are only 4,000 of us running the full Marathon, there are another 18,000 doing the 5 leg Relay.

I feel good. My head and my body feel like they’re in the mood. I hit my pace and keep it as well. Canny start. The first Relay changeover is just after 4 miles and it’s carnage.

There are SHITLOADS of runners waiting for a baton changeover. How they spot people I have no idea. Full Marathoners are told to keep right by Stewards, Relay runners to the left, but there’s lots of criss-crossing and it’s a miracle I don’t get tripped. Thankfully, as the race goes on and the field opens up, the four remaining change overs are far calmer.

At mile 5 a runner saunters up beside me and starts to chat. His name is Nick, and he currently lives about 3 mile up the road from me. He spotted my club vest so knew I was local to him. So begins the start of a new friendship, forged over the next 21 miles.

In fact, Nick used to run for my Club. He’s in Northern Ireland as this is where is wife is originally from. He’s going to be moving here permanently in the next year or so. He’s also more of a Triathlete these days, but is a Marathon veteran. He’s running after just recovering from a stress fracture in his foot, can he tag along with me?

So from here till the finish (spoiler alert) it’s me and Nick. The next few miles fly by. We cut through Ormeau Park at mile 7 which is a nice change in scenery. This is also the only part of the course we will see again – we’ll finish here. That’s still another 19 miles away however..

We’re now heading into the City Centre, mile 9, and the spot where my family will be. I come round the corner, hang right, and I spot them straight away. My daughter takes a few photos, including the one below. It’s great to see them, and my wife points out later that I hit this section at exactly the time I told her I would. So far, so good.

We’re now heading out of the City and into South Belfast. We pass the Rise Sculpture and Windsor Park, as we drop further South and hit the half way point. I suddenly feel great, and Nick and myself pick up the pace a bit.

We’re about to hit an interesting section of the course, heading towards North Belfast via the Falls Road and the Shankhill Road. If you know your history of Belfast and the ‘troubles’, you’ll recognise these as famous, or infamous depending on your views, places of cultural importance.

We’re starting to climb for the first time as well. Very subtlety, but it’s definitely there. The crowds are still out in their droves and are noisy and encouraging. Throughout the course, I hear a few shouts for my club vest. It’s lovely support, and much appreciated.

Between the Falls Rd and the Shankhill Rd, we go through the gates and into the Peace Wall. Again, the cultural and historical importance of this is not lost on me. It’s also the start of some real testing and steady hills. We’re going to have about 2 miles of this.

The support both sides of the wall is fantastic. I hate to get all wanky, but it really is a humbling experience as I run along the wall. Just thinking about how different a place this was, even in the 90s, to how it is now. I’m not naive enough to think it’s all sunshine and lollipops between the two sides now, but I certainly wouldn’t have entertained doing a Marathon in this city 30 years ago. It’s come a long way.

We push through these hills, from around 17-19 mile, and we’re onto the most northerly part of the course – The Water Works. This is the old and decommissioned reservoir that used to serve the city. It’s now a nice park.

In fact, I’m told that this is where the first ever Parkrun in Northern Ireland took place. I can see why, with its waterside path and rolling hills in the background, it’s a lovely place for a run. Maybe not when it’s at mile 20 of a Marathon.

Last 10k to go. This is it. We pop out of the Water Works and a lady shouts at us ‘you look fabulous lads.’ And you know what, I think we probably do. I feel ok. The legs are a little tired, but not to the point where I feel like I’ll need to stop. My pace is steady and on target. If anything, it’s going too well.

We’ve now got some lovely downhill as we head South East back towards the finish in Ormeau Park. We’ll go via the river Tow Path, then round the outside of the park, before cutting in for the finishing straight. The Tow Path, at around 23 miles, is the first point I notice runners pulling up. I’m not going to do that though. I mean, look at me, I’m not even sweating.

Off the Tow Path, we’ve got a testing mile coming up – the Ormeau Rd. I was expecting this, a mile of steady uphill. This section is tough, but it’s where the crowd play their part. There is a tight funnel of people on the road, all shouting us up it. It’s amazing. I feel like I’m on a mountain section of the Tour de France. My legs are a bit tired, but I’m pushing through strong and the supporters are really driving me on.

Suddenly, we’re reached the top of the climb, it’s a sharp left, and we’re dropping down a hill on the other side of the park. This is mile 26, the last one, and the realisation hits me that I’m going to make it.

I’m going to run a full Marathon, without stopping, and it looks like at the pace and time I was after. Any drop in energy, or weariness in my legs, disappears. Nick and I shake hands while we run this stretch, thanking each other for the company and the mutual help getting through it.

Once again, the crowds are plentiful and loud. We come into the Park and can see the finish. I’m punching the air as I come in. Afterwards, when I check all of the photos, I find as usual that 99% are shit. But the one below is a doozy. Hang it in the Louvre.

I glide over the line, arms outstretched, with a time of 4:06:39. Get. The. Fuck. In. Unofficially (but factually), I hit 26.2 in 4:05:33. Right in the wheelhouse of what I was aiming for. Nick and myself give each other a big hug. That’s about as emotional as I get. I should be crying, jumping up and down, something like that. But instead, a big manly ‘thank you’ hug is all I need or want. Cheers Nick.

I receive my medal, and I think it’s a beaut. Same with the finishers top. Modelled here later in the hotel after my wife made me pose so she could send it to randoms.

I bid Nick goodbye as he wanders off to find his wife, thanking him once again and wishing him luck. The two other guys from the club spot me and again it’s big man hugs all round. They have also had blinders. The club WhatsApp group has been live tracking us throughout, and it’s mad to check it and see in real time everyone’s rooting for us hundreds of miles away.

We feel so good, we skip trying to get on a shuttle bus back to the centre, and just walk it. It’s a 20 minute walk, but I couldn’t give a shit. I still seem to have energy, the legs haven’t given up. I think it’s adrenaline.

My daughter meets me outside the Hotel and it’s more hugs. I’m enjoying the hugs. I have a glorious shower then pop down to the bar where I down a Guinness. Because I can.

After some recovery yoga and a nice little nana nap, the family head to the Europa for a celebration meal. I burned 3,400 calories today, I intend to replace them. I have the Fish, Chips, and Mushy Peas. It’s Heaven. I wash it down with more Guinness, then stuff my face with Sticky Toffee Pudding. Again, because I can.

We finish the long weekend on the Monday by going to the Titanic Museum, which by the way is brilliant. My quads are a bit stiff, but other than that I’m in good nick.

What a Weekend. I don’t know whether the stars aligned, Lady Luck was shining, or someone above (or below) was on my side, but everything seemed to come together. From travel, to prep, to race, to finish.

Would I do another one? Probably. Would it be Belfast? It’s a good shout. For now, it’s time to take stock, and concentrate on the shorter stuff I have in the next few weeks and months.

For reference, here is the course as published by the organisers.

..and how it looks on my Strava. Snap!

Thank you Belfast. You were magnificent.

Mood: Elated.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 16

May 2, 2025May 19, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

“Alrighty Then!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

So, here we are. Week 16. The end of training. By Sunday afternoon, I’ll either be a Marathoner or a DNF. Either way, I know I’ve done my best. I’ve followed the Club plan pretty much to the letter, give or take one or two sessions.

If it goes tits up on Sunday, then it goes tits up. It won’t be for the lack of trying or prep, it’ll just not be my day. What I have done over the last 16 weeks, is give myself the best opportunity to make sure it does go my way. And you can’t say fairer than that.

Philosophical bollocks out of the way, it’s time to look forward to the big day. Over the weekend, London and Manchester Marathons both happened. The vast majority of my Club Marathon WhatsApp group were either doing one or the other. I mean, none of them were doing both. That would be nuts.

If you live in the UK you’ll know that Sunday was the start of a mini heat wave. So, unfortunately, both runs took part in slightly unseasonably temperatures. And lots of people suffered in it.

The WhatsApp support group starts to be the complete opposite. I’m under no illusions that next week is going to be hard, but hearing horror story after horror story coming in on the Sunday starts to put a dent in my confidence.

That evening I decide I need to shut out the noise. So I lock the chat, whilst also making a conscious decision to stay off Social Media. I think proper athletes call it ‘being in the zone.’

Ah, that’s better.

On to week 16. I already feel like I have a bit more in the legs after the slightly lower milage week, especially with a two day rest. That means the weights session feels quite good. Another bit of good news, the Weather is looking like it won’t be too gruesome. The Met Office is predicting sunny spells, 11c when I set off, about 13-14c when I predict to finish. I’ll take it.

Back to this week, Tuesday sees my final Club session. I’m quite looking forward to it as well. No 5 mile warm up required, and I’ve to drop to a slightly slower and less intense group. Lovely.

It means I’m back in my old group that I was ‘promoted’ from 15 months ago. The session is 4 loops around the estate where I did some of my Threshold sessions. It’s a warm one tonight, the warmest it’s been all year.

There is something quite cathartic about it. Thinking about the cold and dark Thursdays I was dragging my arse round here, then tonight I get to sit on the back of a slower group and trot around on a glorious evening. The only negative is that there are a lot of greenfly in the air. I hope they’re full of protein, as I must have swallowed hundreds of them.

What is also lovely about this session is that a few people approach me and wish me good luck for Sunday. These are genuinely nice gestures, and I’m actually quite touched by it. It’s been a good night. My legs felt good, the run was enjoyable, and it’s given me a great confidence boost.

Wednesday is due to be even warmer than Tuesday. In fact, the next two days are the peak of the heatwave, before it thankfully dies off. The warmer weather means the sea front will be packed, so for my Easy 6 miles I’m going to head down the Wagonway.

It’ll be much quieter down there, plus there are pockets of shade. This will be much easier than my usual easy as well – I’m going to slow it right down. It’s a beautiful evening. It’s like it was meant to be, if you believe such stuff.

My knees are a bit stiff, but the legs are noticeably less heavy and tired. I enjoy this run, especially on the turn and back for the last 3 miles. The mood is good, and so is the playlist.

And then, it was over. It’s Thursday. It’s the last run of my Marathon training. Should I be emotional or something? I’m not sure how I feel. Maybe I’ll re-read all of the past weeks the night before and it will sink in then.

For now though, the end involves an easy 4 miles with some hill reps. It’s going to be peak heatwave day and evening, hitting 22c, so I’m again going to avoid the sea front.

Well, that was the plan, until around 4pm ish, when the clouds and a breeze roll in and it drops to a much more pleasant temperature. Ironically, I’ve spent the last 16 weeks slagging off the weather coming in off the sea. During a heat wave though, it’s a beautiful thing.

I do some half arsed hill reps down the Quarry to start with, then head down and along the sea front. The biggest thing I notice, is that my legs aren’t tired. In fact, they feel the freshest they have in months.

The sea front is busy, but not too busy. Between the weather, my legs, and the coast being fairly quiet, this is a perfect way to finish it. And finish I do.

I’m not sure how I feel. Maybe it will sink it later, but the answer to ‘will I feel emotional’ when I finish is, well, no. I feel nothing. What a cold bastard.

The important thing is that I’ve got through it injury free. Nothing pulled, twisted, tweaked, or torn. Getting to the Start line healthy should never be sniffed at.

So, there we are. The next time you hear from me will be the Marathon review. The tone of that review is unknown.

I’ll leave you with this in the meantime though..

When I first agreed to take up the Marathon plan, there were a set of rules to adhere to. Firs one was ‘no fucking walking.’ Fair enough. Second, was ‘be confident.’ No problem. The third, was to listen to the below. I’m Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe.

See you on the other side.

Mood: Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 15

April 27, 2025 notbuilttorunLeave a comment

“Is It Number One or Number Two? I Just Want To Know How Much Time I Have.”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

I realised this week that I was going to need to take my daughter out of school to come with us for the Marathon. Well, that’s not completely true. My wife gave me a gentle kick about it as I’d completely forgotten. Whoops.

So I needed to fill in a form for two days off. For those not in the UK, schools have the power to fine you for what they see as ‘unauthorised’ absence. It can be £60 a day, for each parent. So potentially, £240.

So here’s a moral maze. Do we just pretend she’s ‘sick’ and at home, and not on a plane to Belfast. Do we play the dead granny/pet card? Or do we just tell the truth?

Honesty is the best policy I’ve always been taught. I write on the form that I’m running the Marathon and taking her with me for support. I realise that this might sound a bit wanky humble brag to the school, but that’s not the intention. It’s the old joke – how can you tell someone is doing a Marathon? Don’t worry, they’ll let you know..

In the end, the honesty pays off. Not only do we not get fined, the Headteacher writes back on the Form that he wishes me good luck in the Marathon. Winner.

It’s still Easter. Technically. Jesus has risen or something, so we get Monday off as a Public Holiday. Today is also the first day I’m able to look ahead at the long range weather for the Marathon.

In 24 hours, it changes 4 times. Light cloud with sunny spells on first check, then it predicts thick cloud, then it changes to sunny all day, to then predicted light rain. All of this at around 14-16 degrees. The only consistent part is light wind.

There’s an old cliche in running, in life really, that you can’t control the uncontrollable. So whatever it decides to do, fuck it. If it’s warm and sunny, I just go out slower. That’s life. I’m not a masochist.

Tuesday is a track night, and it’s the last Tuesday I need to do a big warm up. Again, I’m meeting up with others, except now there are only the three of us. Everyone else has their Marathon this weekend, so they are on a low mileage week.

The mood is once again pretty good. We’re nearly there, we can feel it, and we know we’ve put the graft in. The session itself is called Pace-2-Pace. It’s basically 800m at a certain pace, immediately followed by 200m at a faster pace, then a rest. Repeat with various amounts, but always go into the 200m fast.

As usual, despite high spirits, the warm up is leggy and the thought of now sprinting round the track doesn’t fill me with confidence. Once I get going though, I find something, and I’m flying. Sub 7 min pace flying. Another tough but good speed session done.

This week I don’t have to be up early for my Easy 6 miles on the Wednesday, I’ve got time in the evening. I’ve noticed a tiny bit of soreness in my knee all day, but nothing more than a slight awareness.

When I start to run though, it is sore. In fact, for the first mile, it does bother me more than it ever has done. Interesting. I plod on, but if it’s no better by 2 miles, I’ll call it quits and stop.

It does clear up, and I get through the 6. Something very much to keep an eye on. It can fuck right off at this point. I haven’t got in this deep for my bastard knee to fall apart at this late stage of the game. Still, it’s another good night on my shuffle..

We want to get loaded

Now completely paranoid (or maranoid as I’ve learnt) about my knee, I’m feel a slight trepidation about Thursdays nights Intervals. To add to my problems, the Met Office announce that the UK is to get a mini-heatwave next week. Ffs.

Thursdays Intervals are very much a case of de ja vue. Same drill as last week, pretty much the same weather. 3 x 3km at Threshold Pace, followed by 1km at Marathon Pace. It’s sunny, with a slight chill in the air.

I’m tired. I can’t tell if I’n physically tired, or mentally tired, I just know I’m tired. This is the last intense session I will do before the big day. Everything from now on is ‘easy’ pace. This is a slog, everything on my left side hurts, but I battle through it. Again, my playlist has to take some credit. I mean, who doesn’t love this classic?

Trying to ignore I was in my 20s when this came out

Can I then be arsed to get up on Friday morning for hills? Can I shite. But up I am. My knee, rather surprisingly, feels absolutely fine. I was expecting to wake up feeling like Marathon training had finally broken me. I don’t feel any niggles at all on my run, and even a bit less tired. Weird.

Which is just as well, as I’m doing this week’s long run on Saturday morning rather than Sunday. Match and pub on Saturday = me no likey Sunday mornings. Plus, I want to watch the London Marathon on the tele on Sunday. For inspiration, allegedly.

Even though it’s only 14 miles this week, I’m still up and away early. I just want it out the way to be honest. Unfortunately, that mindset carries over into the run. I can’t be arsed, I just want it over.

I don’t feel tired in the legs or physically, it’s all in my head. I thought this would be an easy and enjoyable finish to the long runs, but in the end it feels like a chore.

Rather than take this as a negative, I see this as a positive. I’m ready, in my legs and in my head. Both know the training is complete and I can do no more, so let’s just get this done. I complete 14.21 miles in 2:11:49, at a 9:17 pace.

One week left to go, and the last week involves very little. Three easy runs, very little mileage, mo intensity. I would look forward to it if there wasn’t that Marathon at the end of it..

Mood: Ready

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 14

April 20, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Excuse Me! I’d like To Ass You A Few Questions!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Well, we’ve made it. Taper Time. Who would have thunk it way back in Week 1, running the last 2 miles of my long run, round a frozen field, in -2 temperatures, having to come off the roads because they’d become far too dicey.

I bet they never make it, screeched Shania Twain once, but by Christ look at us holding on, we’re still together, going strong. That’s in my head the rest of the day, so it can also be in yours.

I am sore Monday though. I don’t think that was on any Shania Twain albums. Ironically though, it’s from working in the garden on Saturday, not from 20 miles on the Sunday. I still get through the Weights session with a minimum of fuss. Creaking, but strong.

Tuesdays club session is Prom Reps. 7 laps up and down the Prom. Quite a quick session, only around 2.5 miles in total, over before you have the time to hate it.

I do a 5 mile warm up once again with other members of the club who are Marathon training. The mood is good. We all know now that the worst is behind us. Well, apart from the actual Marathon itself, but you know what I mean.

I really enjoy this session. I chat to loads of people I feel like I haven’t seen in ages, mainly due to only coming once a week at the moment. It reminds me that once this is all over, it’ll be great to be back with the old crowd twice a week.

I also enjoy it because I feel great. Strong even. I’m hitting 7 min mile pace on the reps, but don’t even feel like I’m pushing it. I feel in great nick, basically.

I do have to be up early for my Easy 6 on the Wednesday, as I’m out at the football in the evening. It’s a very tired slog. The energy levels are low, understandable so soon after the night before, and the weather is crap. Misty, rainy, and wind coming in off the sea. Thankfully, auto pilot gets me round once again. And this classic comes on my shuffle.

One of the biggest changes now we’re in Taper is the Thursday Thresholds session. The mileage is now on the way down – 3 x 4km. I don’t work in Km, I work in miles. Which I’m aware makes me a bit of a freak in the British running community.

I program it in as a workout on my Garmin, the first 3km at Threshold pace, the final at Marathon. Rest for 2 minutes, do it again twice more. With the warm up and cool down, this will probably be 9 miles ish.

It’s sunny, blue sky, but it’s not that warm. It turns out to be a perfect night for a run, as well as being quite enjoyable. I wasn’t feeling it as I headed out, but soon run myself into it. My first rest takes place right in the middle of the Wagonway, no-one is around, and I enjoy the peace and quiet.

Including warm up and cool down, it comes in at 9 and a half miles. It’s less intense than previous weeks, and it’s the least knackered I’ve felt after Intervals in a while. I’ve just got one more of these to do, the exact same one, next week. I won’t miss them..

Friday is a Public Holiday, so I’m off work (woo-hoo!) but I’m still up early for my Easy run and hill reps. I’ve got quite a bit on today, so I need to get this one done.

I feel more tired than usual though, especially after I do my hill reps 3 miles in. The last mile is a real slog. I think the last block of milage might be catching me up, and my body is rebelling. It’s a dull but calm morning though, at least it’s got that going for it.

On Sunday, I ‘only’ have to do the 17 miles on my long run. It’s the first time I haven’t done 20 or more for 6 weeks, and a welcome sign that we’re in taper.

It’s a perfect morning for running, exactly like Friday. It’s overcast, no wind, and neither too warm nor too cold. The first few miles along the sea front are quite nice for once.

It’s Easter Sunday, so it’s even quieter than usual. It’s only suckers like me who signed up for Marathons not enjoying a lie in this morning. However, it does mean that not only have I got the weather going for me, there’s also less people and cars around.

Psychologically, cutting back a bit earlier to knock 3 miles off is a big boost. I again try to start at around Marathon Pace and see how I feel. Nothing stupid though. Slow and steady wins the race.

I complete 17.1 miles, in 2:38:10, at 9:13 pace. Jesus would be proud.

2 weeks to go, the shit stuff behind us, my attitude now is ‘let’s enjoy it.’ I’m sure the nerves will creep in the closer we get, but for now, I’m off to my mother in laws to eat my weight in Sunday lunch.

Happy Easter.

Mood: Resurrected

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 13

April 14, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Lew-Who, Za-Her!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Dectective

Bored of these yet? Well, social media reactions and reader stats points towards the answer to that question being ‘yes’, but thankfully for everyone, it’s nearly over.

We’ve reached the 4th and final block of Marathon training, which means it’s 4 weeks till Belfast, the day of reckoning. The big miles are now done, and we’re into Taper time.

After my decent paced moral boosting 20 miler on the Sunday morning, scrolling through social media on the evening I’m reminded that running a Marathon ain’t no picnic.

Brighton Marathon takes place in the morning, and by all accounts it’s a warm one. As a consequence, race plans go out the window. Lots of runners struggle, from disappointment of coming in much slower than their target time, to the extreme of dehydration and sickness.

It’s a stark reminder that, as much as I’ve bitched and moaned about the cold weather these last 3 months, it could be the heat that will ultimately kick me in the bollocks on the day. I’m utter shite in the heat as well, although much better than I used to be.

With that in mind, I’ve started to take a look at the long range weather forecast. One is predicting around 13 degrees, which I’ll take all day. Of course, this means diddly shit, but it’s another thing for me to get obsessive over before the day.

The only negative of that big Sunday run, is that I’m creaking a bit on the Monday. Still, both in the Yoga and the Weights session I feel quite strong.

Tuesday is track night. Looking at the plan, this will be my last intense track session until the Marathon. It’s a Pyramid ‘Unsettlers’ session, with some random distances. 500-700-900-1100-900-700-500. The unsettling bit is that they are all either just over or just short of a full lap of the track.

I organise meeting up with a few other club runners who are Marathon training for the warm up. Again, this helps make the 5 miles tick over just a bit quicker. We’re all in the final block now, and it feels like morale is up. You can almost feel the sense of relief in the air.

The track session is fast. Like, really fast. One of my miles is sub 7 minutes. I mean, what the fuck. By the end, I’m hanging on. But hang on I do. I also feel quite strong by the end. It’s a great start to the week.

My Easy 6 miles on Wednesday evening is my usual route around the coast. The first 3 miles I’m plodding along like I’m cock of the north. The last 3 are spent dragging my arse to the finish. The only saving grace is my playlist, which includes this absolute banger that I haven’t heard in ages..

Wednesday was a dull so-so evening, but Thursday is a timely warm weather test. It shoots up during the day to a tropical 17 degrees.

It’s still 15 degrees in the early evening when I pop out. It’s a lovely night for a run. That’s a sentence I have’t uttered on this blog for a while. It’s 3 x 3 miles Intervals, 2 at Threshold Pace, 1 at Marathon Pace.

As it’s so nice, and also lighter in the evenings, I’ve got so much more options for routes. So I head down the Wagonway, come off at the Dene, through Holywell, then back down to the coast and along to home.

My Threshold pace is good, but my Heart Rate is high. It doesn’t bother me though, for two reasons. Firstly, I feel fine. Secondly – cheese. That’s right, cheese. I had cheese at lunch time, and it’s a bastard for putting your HR up.

There are worse places to take your 2 min static recovery

Heart Rate aside, this is a good run, and definitely the last of the stinkers. I’m knackered, but in a good way. Productive pain and all that.

Friday morning I’m still a bit tired but want to get the 4 easy with hill reps out the way. I noticed earlier in the week that my usual hill is out of action. The work going on down the Prom has now seen this fenced off temporarily.

So, it’s back to the Quarry. This is a slight cheat, as the hills here aren’t as steep, but I’m past giving a shite. I just take a longer run at them. It’s another of those autopilot runs, but I feel like I could run forever on tired legs. I probably can’t, but if I THINK I can then I’m obviously winning the mental battle.

Saturday is rest day. I say rest, I get up to do my Weights session and then spend the rest of the day sorting the yard and the garden out. I would have been less knackered running.

In fact, Sunday morning, I am a bit sore. Run 20 miles? No bother. Cut the Hedge and do some weeding? Broken.

Sunday is forecast to be another sunny Spring day, so for the first time in forever, I’m going to run in my vest. Amazing. No layers, no gloves. Fuck off Winter, don’t come back.

I also don’t have to run 20 miles today. I can do 18 if I want. The plan gives me the choice. But I thought, if I’m doing 18, I may as well do 20. Not only for time on feet, but also for the psychological boost getting another 20 pluser will give me.

I also want to try and polish my Marathon Pace now. So aim to sit in and around 9:20 miles.

This is exactly the same as the last big run I did on this route. Heading inland (Westerly) is straight into a slightly chilly wind. Then when I turn at 11 miles, the wind disappears and it feels like the temperature goes up 5 degrees.

Also like the last time, the legs are feeling it a little bit. I’m not too bothered by that at all though. This my 6th 50-plus mile week in a row, it’s been a tough block, and I’m surprised I’m not more knackered to be honest.

I hit 20 miles at 3:04:51, keeping an average of 9:14 /mi. Not bad. Not bad at all.

That’s it then. The last ‘big’ run is done, the last shitter weeks are out the way. I’m going into Taper feeling strong physically and mentally. This is all going too well..

Mood: Suspicious

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 12

April 6, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Runner, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“You don’t have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up”

David, The Lost Boys

Last week, someone called me ‘ripped.’ Yes, yes, they were pissed as a fart when they said it, barely able to focus and clutching what was in all probability their 8th or 9th pint.

The point is though, off their face or not, the sentiment was there. They are completely wrong though. Whilst I have certainly dropped some weight in the last 3 months, the only thing that is even remotely ‘ripped’ on my body is potentially one of my groins.

Still, it’s nice to get your morale boosted by drunks heading into Week 12. I have to say though, mentally and physically I feel fairly good. My knee seems to have settled down. It still clicks like a jazz singers fingers, but it hasn’t got any worse. Touch wood..

My Monday Weights session for example is the first one in a while where I don’t even notice my knee. I’m feeling stronger in these Core sessions also. I’m still not ripped though.

Tuesday is Grand Prix night, and it’s the last one of the season. This one is usually slightly longer, 5 miles, but due to ongoing work down the sea front, it’s going to be the same course as last time. So, two laps of the Prom, 3.4 miles.

At the last Grand Prix, I had a shitter. The slowest I’d run one in a while, with every man, woman, child, animal, passing me. Now we’re deep into Marathon training, I’m expecting same again. My Handicap is also a stinker – 18:30 – despite my poor show last time.

So on paper, not looking great. My 5 mile warm up doesn’t help matters, it’s shite and ploddy. At least the weather is ok. Slight head wind on the section heading South, but dry and actually light!

As I finish my warm up, for some reason, a voice in my head tells me to take off the shackles and go balls out. Stupid voices.

Can’t back out now though. So, right from the off, I just go for it. Early on I know this is going to be ok if I can keep up the pace. Only a couple of people have passed me after the first lap, far less than last time out.

I do get caught by some of the speed merchants in the second lap, but I’m keeping pace and happy with how it’s going. I’m right to be, I end up doing a 22:48 5k, my second fastest ever. Well, slap me sideways.

Unfortunately though, due to their being a match in the evening, my Wednesday easy 6 miles will have to be first thing in the morning. That will be the morning after a 10 miler, 5k of which was fast. What a slog this is. I don’t even think I can feel my legs last couple of miles. Even my playlist shuffle mocks me, when this comes on. Honest.

Twat

Thursday, my favourite day of the week. Can you feel the sarcasm just oozing out of that sentence. This one, is an absolute stinker. 4 x 3 miles at Threshold pace. Jesus wept. I hate this run just looking at it.

With warm up, this is basically going to be a fast Half Marathon with 3 lots of 2 min rests every 5k ish. I’m going to treat it like a long run therefore, and run a ‘route’, rather than just repeat the same streets.

Now it’s Week 12, I’m like a war vet. In the first few weeks of Threshold sessions, I was constantly looking at my pace and my Heart Rate. Bollocks to that now.

I therefore stick a finger in the air and plump for an 8:20 pace. A minute a mile faster than target Marathon Pace, but not eyeballs out. The route itself will be into the local estate, round that, join the Wagonway, follow that to the end, down to the sea front, back along the coast, then finishing in my street. If I’ve done my calculations right. Spoiler alert: I haven’t.

2.5 miles into my first 3 miles, I’m come into Holywell Dene. Always a highlight of running on the Wagonway (except when it’s muddy) but as I climb a small incline here I get a sharp pain in my right knee, enough for me to give out an audible ‘ow you fucker.’

The irony of worrying about injuring my left knee, only for my right one to suddenly be knackered, is not lost on me. Miraculously, it doesn’t bother me for the rest of the run, or even after it. I don’t know or care what it was, as long as it now fucks right off.

I complete my first two 3 milers at a good pace. Probably a little too fast to be honest. As such, the last two are brutal. This turns out to be the hardest session in all of the 12 weeks so far. The last 3 miles I am dead on my feet.

As alluded to earlier, I also balls up my finish. I’ve still got a mile left to run, yet I’m only around half a mile from home. The thought of going round in circles on my street is soul destroying. So I take a right back down to the sea front. I finish, it’s a half marathon exactly, and I am shattered.

There is therefore no way I’m getting up early on Friday for my 4 easy miles with hill reps. No fucking chance. Instead, I head out at lunchtime. Strangely though, I feel great. My hill reps are strong. By the Friday evening though, the tiredness hits me again. Thankfully, I’ve got Saturday as a rest day. I need it.

Sunday’s long run is 20 miles. I’ve also heard on the grapevine that next weeks will be another 20, then it’s taper time baby! With that in mind, I’m going to try a new route for this one.

There are actually a number of good training reasons for the new route. Now we’ve had a spell of dry weather, the Wagonways and dirt tracks are mud free and runnable for the first time this year. The route also includes a section with a subtle 3-4 mile climb, which will be a test, but one I think I need.

Finally, call me a sloppy bastard, but I my last biggie next week to be my usual route. A sort of celebration run, saying thanks and goodbye to the route that has helped me get to where I am. I know, it’s ridiculous.

I now have a solid Marathon plan as well. Set off at 9:20 pace, try and maintain it. That seems achievable, and would give me a 4:04 finishing time.

First 10 miles, all goes to plan. I feel pretty strong on the climb section as well. The second 10 miles goes even better, I seem to settle into a pace that is round the 9 min mark.

I finish and complete 20.25 miles, in 3:06:02, which is a 9:11 pace. I am slightly knackered at the end, but again not completely shattered.

Just a normal Sunday morning these days.

This is great, but also bad. 9:11 pace, if I could sustain it for another 10k, would give me a 4:00:47 finish. 48 seconds off breaking 4 hours.

That’s tempting. Very tempting. Too tempting. Bollocks.

Mood: Conflicted.

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