The Marathon Training Blog: Week 8

March 9, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

“Michael Jackson didn’t come over to my house to use the bathroom. But his sister did!”

Chunk – The Goonies

Wooooh, we’re half way there! Wooooh-oooooh, I hate fucking Bon Jovi! No, as I tell my teenage daughter, hate is a strong word. You should never ‘hate’ anything. Except Bon Jovi. They are shite. Whoops, there go the Bon Jovi fans. Flouncing off with the Vegan Runners I imagine.

I jest, I’m a lover not a fighter. Come back. I’m married to a Vegetarian. It’s bantz. The point I’m making, and there is one I promise, is that we’re in Week 8. The halfway point. And I feel..ok. It’s been as hard as I was warned, but I don’t feel as broken as I thought I might.

The week also starts quite well. My daughter gets into the school she and we wanted her to get into, which is fantastic, as I didn’t fancy starting the day having to console a teenager. I also discover that I’ve misread the Plan this week, and that I don’t have to do another 20 miler at the weekend. I only have to do 19. Great.

That bombshell aside, in the evening I do my usual Yoga and Weights sessions, feeling strong, with seemingly no ill effects from the weekend.

Boring weather klaxon! Spring seems to have sprung, with all week set to be dry, sunny, and sitting at 10c during the days. Pass me the sunscreen and my mankini.

Tuesday is the club Grand Prix. I’m unsure how fast my legs will allow me to go for this one, but I do know one thing for certain – after my cluster fuck in the last one, I’ll be tying my shoelaces tighter than a knot in Madam Helga’s House of Pain. So I’ve heard.

The Grand Prix course is about 3.5 miles, so the plan is 5 miles easy warm up, race like the wind, cool down easy 1.5 miles back home. Up until the day, I have no idea what my handicap is for this one. I’m expecting it to be more favourable than last time out. Due to being a tool who can’t tie shoelaces, I lost time and places.

In the end, it’s 15:30, which gives me 2 minutes back on my last one. There are also less beasts in my group, but still lots of fast bastards. The 5 mile warm up is, yet again, a tired and ploddy ballache.

I don’t actually fancy this run. I say that every time I do the Grand Prix, but this time I have a feeling. Due to roadworks the course is changing – two laps of the Prom basically – and I dislike (as hate is a strong word, remember) laps.

The new and slightly rude looking GP course

I get away quick enough, a couple of my group fly off, but I leave the rest behind. This is as good as it gets however. All the fast people who would probably catch me anyway, seem to catch me really early. Also, I don’t seem to be overtaking anyone. At all.

This continues for the rest of the race. It feels like EVERYONE passes me. I think by the end, I might go past half a dozen people at best. I’m off the clock as I’ve just continued on with my 5 mile warm up on my watch, but afterwards Strava credits me with a 23:20 5k. That’s 47 seconds slower than my PB I set only 3 months ago.

That’s to be expected though. I’m tired. I’m knackered. I’m fucked. I slowed down in the last Grand Prix in February, where I did a 23:16 5k. I really don’t have too much of a problem with it, this time last year I would have killed for a sub 24 min 5k, so to still be hitting them with Marathon legs is nothing to be sniffed at.

However, my Strava is alight with PBs and quick times galore from fellow club runners who claim the change in course made it ideal for fast running. So under normal circumstances, this may have been a great chance for potentially ducking under 23 mins.

Ah well, tough shit.

Never mind. At least my Handicap should be better next time out. Glass half full and all that. On to Wednesday!

Wednesday is also quite an important day at work this week. I’ve been working on a Project since just before Christmas, and will be delivering a presentation on it at lunch time. That in itself has been a Marathon, so I don’t want to fuck it up.

In the end…it goes really well. And it truly is a metaphor for the Marathon. I immersed myself in it, put in all the graft, then when it came to the actual event, I nailed it. Deep and philosophical, or potentially nonsensical bollocks. You decide.

I don’t realise until I head out for my 6 mile easy that evening, but my legs are shot. My knees are sore, my legs are really tired, I am fucked. Who’s a clever shite for running a 23:20 5k now, eh dipshit?

It’s an absolute slog. No autopilot this week. It’s parachuted with the drinks trolley. Afterwards, my feet are so tired, they’re vibrating. Can’t wait for Intervals tomorrow. Should be a hoot!

There is some good news about Thursdays intervals though. I hadn’t read the details, other than that it was 4×2 miles. So I hadn’t realised that, instead of the usual Threshold pace, these need to be completed at Marathon pace. So, much gentler. Get in!

Slight problem here though. I still don’t know what my Marathon pace is. It’s anywhere between 9 to 9:40 min miles. That’s quite a range. I decide to aim for 9 min. That feels like it would be productive, without breaking me. And it will be over quicker.

This goes..really well. Maybe it’s the relief from thinking it was going to have to be quicker. I also mix it up much more than before on the route. First few Intervals on the Sainsburys Loop, then the next one round the local estate, then the last one down on the Prom. It comes to just over 10 miles in total, and I feel quite good when I finish.

I’m going to do an Easy 4 with Hill Reps on the Friday evening, rest on Saturday, long run Sunday morning.

The Easy 4 I’m also going to mix up. I head out on the Metro to Tynemouth as my starting point. I’m not being a lazy shit though. It’s only 3 Stations away, but running to it would make this over a 6 mile run, which is too long.

My hill reps are going to be on a proper hill tonight, the one that runs beside the abandoned Priory. 1300 years ago, this was a defensive structure put in by the Monks to keep the Vikings out. Sadly, it didn’t work, and they were all slaughtered. Just like those Vikings, I’m flying up this tonight. Less violently, granted. I feel great actually. Too good even.

Hills completed, I have a nice steady easy plod back along the sea front to home. I don’t feel tired, I don’t feel like I’m on autopilot, I feel comfortable. I’m in a good place before a decent rest day tomorrow and big run Sunday.

Sunday isn’t exactly going to be tropical, but between 6am-9am (when I’ll be out) it will be dry, sunny, calm, and a pleasant 7 degrees. Therefore, I’ll be ditching the base layer and the gloves.

The 19 miles is basically the 20 miler I did last week, but with the head of the snake cut off. As in, I’ll be knocking the mile off by missing out the sea front at the start.

Having now completed 18 miles (twice) and a 20 miler, 19 doesn’t give me ‘the fear’ it might have done 2 months ago. However, I also know it would be pretty stupid/naive of me to think I can just pop out for a 19 mile run and it be a piece of piss.

The mindset must be to respect the distance, keep doing all the good things around preparation, fuelling and so on. That’s how I approach Sunday. I’d be an idiot or an arrogant prick to think anything otherwise.

True to my word, I’m out the door for 6:30am, gels and jelly babies stuffed in my rather dashing man belt.

Remember earlier when I say it was going to be dry and sunny? Well, I step outside into thick fog everywhere. It’s one of the ‘perks’ of living by the coast. We get this soup that rolls in off the sea. Personally, I love running when we have fog. Especially when we get the summer sea fret type. It cools things down, and it also means there is no wind. However, it does mean it’s colder than I thought, but I stubbornly refuse to wear the layers and the gloves.

The first 5-6 miles are a bit leggy. Not sure why. But again, I never reach the point of feeling completely knackered or wanting to stop. The training weeks are doing their job.

Even though I run inland, the fog never lifts, staying fairly thick. At mile 9, I suddenly feel like I’ve run myself into it, and the next 10 miles I up the pace slightly. I remember in Murakami’s book, he talks about how he’s a slow starter. How he just can’t get going for the first few miles, then suddenly it just clicks. Kindred souls we are.

In the end, I complete 19.28 miles in 3:00:52, at an average pace of 9:23. That’s the same pace as the 20 miler last week. Have I finally found my Marathon pace? Maybe.

It’s another morale boosting week, with a productive long run to end it on. Next week we’re heading into the realms of the unknown yet again, the 22 mile zone. It’s also going to be my first ‘life gets in the way’ week, where I’ll be moving the plan about a bit.

Still, we’ll be past the half way point now, another milestone passed. We’ve got this.

Mood: Hanging in there.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 7

March 1, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

“I feel like I’m babysitting, except I’m not getting paid”

Stef – The Goonies

So, week 7 here we go. Strap in, as we hit the toughest week so far. Shit is about to get very real. If all goes to plan, this will be my first 50+ milage week, which includes my first foray into 20 mile territory.

Boring runners weather update, but the pocket of Spring like temperatures was but a short tease. They are due to drop, not horrendously, but enough to maybe put the base layer back on. Bastard.

Monday is, as always, rest day, other than my longer Yoga class and my Weights session. Physically, I’ve woken up feeling alright. I do start to feel my knee a tiny bit during Yoga, that continues into the Weights, but it doesn’t seem to be getting worse. So that’s a win.

Tuesday though I do feel a bit leggy. I head out for my 5 mile warm up and it’s the stiffest and most tired I’ve felt on this Tuesday run so far. It doesn’t bode well, as tonight’s Track session is one of my least favourite – Kicking 600s. I feel the burn on this one every time we do it, so adding a long warm up doesn’t fill me with much confidence.

I do the extra social 1 mile warm up at the clubhouse and chat to another guy who is doing the Manchester Marathon, so is a week ahead of me on the Training Plan. We share war stories and it’s good to know that his experience is similar to mine. First time at the distance, bored of the cold, enjoyed the mild weather over the weekend etc. Like me, he’s just quietly getting on with it. Or he might be bitching about it on his Blog. Who knows.

Kicking 600s itself is a fairly simple session. Do 600m at 10k pace, take a min static rest. Then it’s 500m at 10k, 100 fast, rest. 400m at 10k, 200m fast, rest, and so on, all the way up to 600m fast.

The good thing about all that, is it means this is a quick session. Only around 2.6 miles in total, and over before you know it. Despite the lethargy, this goes ok. I’m proper knackered at the end, but 9 miles in total with a speed session done.

Wednesday is 6 miles easy and I’ve now got used to this run being ploddy and autopilot mode. However, I notice this week that later on that night my legs are tired. More tired than they’ve felt so far. I wake up in the night and notice this too. They feel like when you’ve been on your feet all day, and you finally get to rest then. It took 7 weeks, but it looks like physical fatigue has joined the party.

If I think I’m tired on Wednesday, then hello Thursday! It’s Intervals night and this one is an absolute bastard. 5 x 2 miles. Am I training for a Marathon or the SAS. I struggle to motivate myself for this one. Like, really struggle. My wife gives me a pep talk ‘hurry up, I want my tea’ and I pop out.

I’m going to mix it up a bit this week and start off somewhere different. We have a 1k loop we do as a Club night, it’s called the ‘Sainsbury’s Loop’ because, and this is genius, it’s next to the local Sainsbury’s Supermarket. It’s called the Loop because, well, take a look.

It’s a Loop. Next to Sainsbury’s. Get it?

This session starts well enough, but each Interval is going to be 3 and bit loops, so it gets quite repetitive quite quickly. I can’t face doing the last rep round here, so dive off into the estate next to it. It was either that or throw myself into the path of a passing car, just to relieve the boredom.

All in all this session comes in just under 13 miles. 13 fucking miles. That’s a half marathon. Suffice to say, I am absolutely knackered when I get back in. It’s done though. Off it fucks.

Friday morning I drag myself up for the 4 Easy and hill reps. Again, I’m going to mix this up a bit. Rather than doing the hill reps at the end down by the sea front, I’m going to get them out the way early in the Quarry. The Quarry is a disused Victorian Quarry round the corner from me that is now a park. The ‘hill’ is one of the paths to get in and out of it. Not as dramatic or steep as the one on the sea front, granted. Which is nice.

It’s another autopilot run. The legs are doing their thing, running tired, but still running and getting through. That night, I’m off to a gig. I go and see Max Cooper. What, you don’t know who Max Cooper is? Here he is. He’s fucking awesome.

I decide two things. I’m not going to have a drink, and I persuade my brother (whom I’m going with) to go to an All-You-Can-Eat Indian Buffett before the gig. I demolish several plates of chicken and rice while mumbling ‘Carb loading’ to him between chews.

What goes up, must come down. Or what goes to bed late, must get up early. I’m going to do this week’s long run once again on the Saturday, as I’m off to the match, once again, on the Sunday.

And this weekends long run is a biggy. It’s 20 miles. Last Saturday, I felt massively confident about this run. As the week has gone on, less so. I’m up and out again for 6:20am and, for the first time in the 7 weeks so far, this feels a bit leggy from the start.

Of all the long runs, this is the shittest one to feel a bit tired on. 2 miles in, I’m definitely aware that the old legs are heavy. Great, just the 18 more to go.

I continue on and, whilst I’m not struggling, it feels like more of an effort than usual. However, clever shite alert, this is why I’m doing the same route every week with slight modifications to add on more miles. The idea is that muscle memory will get me through. And I think it does.

I’ve definitely cracked this fuelling thing though. I think. Gel before I go out, then every 5 miles, with Jelly Babies between them. My stomach doesn’t complain, with no sign of the dreaded runners trots.

The first 10 miles are as you were, but then I carry on onto Chilli Road. I’m so close to Newcastle City Centre I can smell it. Or maybe it’s me that smells. Probably me.

The final 9 miles are heading back in the direction of home. I find miles 13-15 the shittest bit. It’s a very bland part of the run, and I know there is a bit of a short climb that can be a pain in the arse at the best of times.

Once I’m on the Wagonway at 15 miles, I feel confident I’m going to do the 20. It has been harder and leggier than usual, but I’m not struggling or suffering. I’m munching on the remainder of my Jelly Babies for the run in. I accidentally drop my last one at mile 19 and I’m devastated. It was one of those Yellow ones as well.

Still, I hit 20 miles in 3:07:45, continuing on for another 0.29 miles to finish in my street. 3:10:23 in total. No stopping, a continuous run. It’s a triumph. I get the bonus of a 30k PB, which wasn’t hard to do, as I’ve never run 30k before.

Just like the 18 miler a few weeks back, I’m delighted to hit the distance, but it probably won’t sink in for a couple of days. Two things I do know though – I can run 77% of a Marathon, and my sub 4:15 is on.

I’ve now just got to motivate myself to do the whole thing again next weekend. Can’t wait.

Week 7 is dedicated to the Yellow Jelly Baby. I’m sorry I left you behind mate. RIP

Mood: Horizontal

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 6

February 24, 2025March 1, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlog2 Comments

“I never felt so bad in my entire life”

Chunk – The Goonies

After my 18 mile ‘heroics’ on the Sunday, I am feeling it on the Monday. The dodgy left knee is a bit sore, but so also is my right hamstring.

I did feel both on the Sunday evening, so got out the foam roller and swore loudly as it did the devils work on my tender hamstring muscle. Let’s hope the toddler next door was asleep, or he’ll be asking his parents some awkward questions in the morning.

Thank the Lord therefore that Monday is a rest day. Well, apart from the 30 minute Yoga and the 30 minute Weights session. But no running, that’s a rest.

This wouldn’t be one of my Marathon posts if I didn’t have a weather update. And, well, it’s looking positive for once. As we head into March, we might have turned a corner. By Thursday, the temp will be double figures. Tropical I tell thee.

This weeks long run (just the 16 miles this week) I’ll be doing on Saturday, and potentially it will be 9 degrees when I get out. It might be time to start thinking about dropping the base layer. Hopefully the crap is finally behind us. Jinx. It’s a nice boost going into the week anyway.

Monday morning I enter a race. In fact, I’ve entered two in the last few days. The Blaydon Race in June, and the Cookson at the end of May. The Cookson is only about 3 weeks after the Marathon. It’s a 10k race organised by my running club and it basically two laps of a hill twice. Look, it seems like a good idea now so it’ll be fine.

Yoga is great, lots of stretches which I like, but the Weights session is hard going on the knee. Maybe I should have given it a miss, but it’s done and nothing that Ibuprofen can’t solve. I get the feeling that Ibuprofen may become my friend in the next few weeks, although I’m very aware that you should never take them before a run. I’m sure Paula Radcliffe taught me that. Or was it my Mam. Doesn’t matter.

It feels like on Tuesday morning that, despite what The Verve claim, the drugs do indeed work. My knee and hamstring both feel better. Which is just as well, as it’s the Club Speed night. Tonight’s session is an oldy but a goody – Domebusters. 8 laps round The Spanish City Dome down the sea front – hence the name. For complete transparency, here is a photo I took of it. See, it’s a Dome.

Who speaks French and is great at taking photos? MOI

It’s a not a long session. Well, unless you’re a spanner who signed up for a Marathon and you have to do a 5 mile warm up before hand. The Tuesday warm up is again the crappest run of the week. Shaking off the rust of the weekend big run, so it always feels a bit stiff and leggy, I also do it without my bone conductors, as I don’t want to take them to the club, so there’s no 90s dance to kick my arse into gear.

I finish at the Club House so I can join the social group warm up down to the sea front. This is a good time of year to do Domebusters. In the Sunmer evenings, there are a lot day trippers down here, it can get quite packed, and it’s fair to say groups of us flying round at pace pisses these people right off. The Club gets lots of angry emails. No really. In the Winter though, not a friggin soul down here.

I get into a group of 8 and the pace is fast. In fact, the first four laps seem really fast. I can’t decide if it’s because a) they are fast b) my legs are tired c) I’ve actually forgotten how to run fast.

In the middle of lap 5, I have a Phoenix from the Flames moment and suddenly find my extra gear. I’ve flicked a switch somewhere, and I finish the final 4 laps strong and fast. Proper endorphin releasing stuff. A cool down jog home, and a quite satisfying 9 miles for the evening. After a shower and something to eat though I hit a wall and feel absolutely fucked. I drag myself to bed and within 5 minutes am fast asleep having drifted into a runners coma.

Wednesday morning and my legs are tired. However, it’s a ‘good’ tired. Like how my legs would feel the morning after a speed session at the club. The key is, they’re not sore.

I go out for my easy 6 mile recovery run in the evening and it’s leggy but ok. It’s almost like I run it on autopilot. I drop down onto the sea front for half of it and it’s cold and windy down there again. I have the massive urge to shout ‘JUST FUCK OFF MAN AND GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK’ but realise that people have been sectioned for less. When I finish I’m leggy but alright. Like I say, very much an autopilot run.

It’s Intervals Thursday once again and, frankly, these can’t be as shit as last weeks. On the plus side, weather wanker alert, we’ve got a micro front of mild stuff hitting us. At last, hallelujah, thank the Lord, Buddha, Yoda, and whoever else you can think of. It’s a balmy 11 degrees – double figures! – when I head out. I’m as happy as a pig in shit.

The session is the same as last week, except I think I’m supposed to mix the pace up. To be honest, as I do jog recoveries rather than static ones, I’m just going to do what I did last week. Except less shitter.

The residents of Red House Farm Estate, where I always do these, must be proper sick of me now, looping their quiet estate multiple times as they try to enjoy Emmerdale. It’s been 6 weeks now, so I assume we’ve reached a point where I’m being mentioned in the Neighbourhood Watch minutes.

I decide to channel my inner Luke Skywalker and turn off my tech and go with my gut tonight. Everyone on the Marathon WhatsApp group keeps saying the Thursday session is hard, that they’re pushing themselves, and it’s the one they hate. I’ve had the opposite – I get frustrated that I have to keep slowing down to keep my HR down. So tonight, I’m going to ignore Pace and HR and just run at what I think is pushing it.

I concentrate on my music, go harder for the 2 milers, very easy for the 2 min recoveries. I hate it less, I’m not as frustrated, and I only slip into Max for 11 minutes. That’s not bad.

It’s 4 miles easy Friday morning, and just like Wednesday, it’s very much autopilot for the legs. I’m starting to think this is a good thing. It’s already light when I get out, and it’s mild. The run and the hill reps are almost enjoyable. Almost.

In the evening, my early night ready for my long run tomorrow won’t happen. My wife and daughter are hanging out with friends and I’ll need to pick them up. In the end, we don’t get back in until after midnight. I’m not really bothered though, they are making sacrifices for me while I train, I can make some for them. It’s not all about me. I have to work around stuff, and to be fair to both of them, they’ve been brilliant with it so far.

I’m up at 5:45am and feel surprisingly pucka. I’m buoyed by the fact that it’s definitely getting lighter in the mornings. It’s also 9 degrees out there with only a light and mild wind.

Dropping onto the sea front, in mild weather, no wind, natural light. and only having to wear one layer, is glorious. I’ve had 6 weeks of long runs in the cold and dark. Honestly, I could cry. If I wasn’t male and northern.

This is a good day to execute a plan. I’m going to start slow and steady, and see if I can increase the pace as I go on. I’m also going to build on Thursday and ignore my HR. Suck it and see I think they call it.

And execute it I do. I keep at around 9:30 pace until about mile 9, when I just increase it slightly. By mile 15 and 16, I end up running sub 9 minutes. More importantly, my HR never goes into Max.

For the first time since I started the Marathon plan, I really enjoy a long run. I haven’t hated the other 5, just not ‘loved’ them. At mile 13 I’m on the Wagonway, the sun is shining through the trees, silence other than the birds singing, and I have a dose of running endorphins. Cue Elgar.

Its been a good week, a real contrast from Week 5, where the first niggles and both physical and mental fatigue were creeping in. Push through it, and I have. Week 7 is a big week though, ending with a 20 miler. Hold on to your butts.

Mood: Warm

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 5

February 16, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Runner, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Always Separate the drugs”

Mouth – The Goonies

The second week of February. That’s almost Spring. It’s not, but by Christ I wish it was. A quick check of the weather this week throws up the same old same old. Cold and wet.

The weekend, especially the Sunday, we have Sleet forecast. Fucking Sleet. That’s not even proper weather. So I’m already scratching my chin and playing a game of ip-dip-dogs-shit with whether I do my 18 miler on Saturday or Sunday. I’ll decide nearer the time. As long as we don’t get another of those Storms with shit names. Jinx.

Monday morning and the knees are a bit stiff, but no lasting effects from yesterday, which is a good sign. It’s a long Yoga and then Weights day, and both I think go well. The Yoga tonight is my kind of session – sun salutations and stretching. Continuing on from last week, the Weights session is also positive.

It might just be muscle memory or just knowing the routine, but there’s no doubt I’m getting into the routine of it now and feeling stronger.

Whilst the symptoms of my cold have gone, other than a slight sniffle, I’m currently in that ‘Cold Hangover’ stage. Does anyone else get these? I find, certainly post pandemic, that I might get a cold for 5 days, but then for a week after that I feel like shite. Not awful, just like I’m working off 70%.

That’s how I feel on Tuesday. The good thing about today is that it’s a Track speed session at the club, and it’s also fairly short – 10 x 400m Reducers. So, run a lap, rest for 60 seconds. Do another one, rest for 55 seconds, and so on.

As it’s short, my warm up will be slightly longer. I head out for 5 miles, finishing at the Track, then a mile with the group. It’s a tired 5 mile I’ll be honest. I’m also feeling my left knee a bit, my first niggle since my old grumbling Achilles injury popped up a couple of weeks ago.

Just like the previous weeks, once I start the speed session, I feel a lot better. Like I wake up. I complete the set at a fairly decent pace, followed by a couple of cool down laps. 9 and a bit miles for the evening, that’ll do.

Wednesday evening I’m off out for a curry and a couple of pints, so I’m up early for my 6 easy miles. As expected, the legs are a bit heavy after last night, but I feel like my body is learning to run tired, which hopefully means the training is taking effect. The weather, again, is a bit miserable. There’s no let up in that cold wind coming in from the sea, but I’m trying to be glass half full about it. At least we don’t have any Storms and ice. That’s another jinx.

Thursdays Intervals session is going to be a little longer than the last few weeks. 4×2 miles Intervals, with 2 minutes recovery jogs in between, then a short cool down home. So, about 10 miles in total.

I get out on my 10 min warm up and notice already that my heart rate is a little high for a slow jog. Not a good sign. Once I start the actual Intervals, it goes proper tits up and stays that way the whole session.

My HR is very high threshold and keeps tripping over to max, meaning I have to keep the pace slow, really slowing down when it goes max to get it back on track. Since I started training 5 weeks ago, this is definitely the shittest run I’ve done. Not shit in that I feel tired or in pain, I feel great, but frustrating shit. Why do I have a high HR when I feel fine and this isn’t that taxing a session. Fucks sake.

When I get back I’m grumpy, but soon get over it. It’s just one of those things. Ultimately, I felt good, and even though my pace was probably too slow, I stuck with Threshold and did it properly. Park it and crack on.

I haven’t got long to sulk over it. Friday morning I’m up early for my easy 4 miles with hill reps. There is definitely something going on with my left knee. I’m not in pain or anything, I’ve just got a ‘sensation’ in it. Difficult to say really. Enough for me to decide early into this run that I’ll take my rest day tomorrow.

At least when I get down to the sea front for my hill reps it’s finally calm. First day of no wind in what feels like forever. My hill reps are a bit leggy, but it’s a nice run, other than my paranoia about my knee.

A check of the weekend weather shows that whilst Saturday is going to be cold and icy early doors, Sunday isn’t. That works out quite well, gives me an excuse to rest the knee for 48 hours before having a crack at 18 miles early Sunday.

Being wary of my knee and its weird sensation, I top up my Travel card on Saturday. My route never takes me too far from a Metro station, so if the worst should happen, I can limp to one of those and get home. I know this sounds pessimistic, but disaster recovery and all that. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

I’m very philosophical about getting injured during this process. Whilst I’d be gutted, it was always a risk for a 45 year old with knees that have taken so much stick over the years. I did wonder how the old injuries would hold up. To be fair, I’ve covered 30 miles in 4 days, 2 of those days were 10 milers. Bits of my body have every right to complain. Guess we’ll find out Sunday anyway.

Saturday I do something very rare for me – I have a lie in. I say lie in, I just don’t set my alarm to get up early, much to the relief of my wife. As our daughter is a teenager now, we are truly blessed that we don’t have to get up early at a weekend. In fact, it’s usually me that’s up much earlier than the other two, crashing about. I’m like the toddler of the house.

The weather also is not as bad as they predicted. Tomorrow morning will now be dull, a bit cold (4 degrees) with light rain and a gentle breeze. I will take that all day.

So, onto Sunday. I’m up and out by 6:30am again. I’m getting used to this now, and I ‘d rather just get out before I think about it too much. This will be the longest run I’ve ever done – in distance and in time. This is 18 miles at a slow pace, so if it all goes to plan I could be on my feet for 2 hours 55 or thereabouts.

It’s the same route as my 16 miler with a slight modification. I’m going to drop on the sea front at the start a bit later than usual, cos I’m a bit bored of it. The other change will be that I turn slightly later, then rejoin my usual route home. That will add on the extra 2 miles. Sounds simple.

My knee is…ok. I am shitting myself about it a bit. Once I start though, it’s fine. Like there is nothing wrong. No twinges, no pain. I set out at a leisurely pace and, as every fucking week, when I hit the coast there’s wind and rain coming off the sea. Course there is.

Thankfully, as predicted, once I turn inland it all stops and we’re calmer. It’s also not as cold as previous weeks. Hopefully a sign of things to come as we creep towards Spring.

The rest of the run goes well, this is a nice comfortable pace and I never feel uncomfortable. This is also a nice recce for fuelling. I’m taking on Gels now at the points I plan to during the Marathon, as well as munching on some Jelly Babies. I’m not a fan of Hydration Vests, instead favouring what we used to call as kids a ‘Bum Bag.’

This sits nicely round my waist, doesn’t weigh me down, and I’ll able to fit in all of my Gels and Jelly Babies. I love it when a plan comes together.

I do feel a bit meh at around 11-12 miles, but I think this is probably just temporary boredom. I’m cutting through a plain estate (sorry locals!) before joining the Wagonway. Once I’m on that, my mojo returns.

My last 5 miles though are a bit quicker, and I finish feeling pretty good having done 18.29 miles in a time of 2:56:45. Bang on what I wanted at a comfortable 9:39 pace.

I am tired when I get in, but I’ve just run 18 miles so I’d be shocked if I wasn’t. Another milestone hit, another big boost physically and mentally. Next week’s long run is to be a faster 16 miler. I’m tempted to have a go at doing that at low 9 minute pace. I’m feeling confident that I could, but don’t want to get overconfident and fuck up all the good work I’ve done so far. See how I feel at the end of the week.

Not a bad week. The knee is still something I need to keep an eye on, but if I can get through the next 3 weeks unscathed, the Marathon goal will be within grasp.

Mood: Cautious

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 4

February 9, 2025February 10, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, training1 Comment

“Bring me four Fried Chickens and a Coke”

Jake Blues, The Blues Brothers

Week 4, we’ve reached the Quarter point. Is the Quarter point a thing? This will be the end of my first 4 week ‘Block’ anyway.

After switching my long run to Saturday in Week 3, Sunday became a rest day, other than a bit of gentle stretching yoga. Therefore on Monday there is no stiffness or anything niggly.

My long Yoga session is far less ‘ouch ya fucker’ than last week. My weights session also goes really well. In fact, this was the first week of weights where I felt like I was both into it and finding it a little more comfortable. I’ve been doing it twice a week since the end of December now, so maybe the first signs of progress. Maybe.

When I wake up Tuesday though, I feel a bit meh. Like I might be at the very start of getting a cold, which would be a massive pain in the arse.

I’m also a little stiff and sore in the legs, even though I haven’t run for nigh on 72 hours. I find this happens to me a lot. The more rest I get between runs, the stiffer I get. Weird. I do some stretching Yoga in the morning in the hope I can shake some of it out.

Tonight is a Club Grand Prix night. I’ve mentioned the Grand Prix before, but in a nutshell, once a month from September to March we race a 3.4m course against each other. It’s all Handicapped depending on performance, that handicap changed every month dependent of how quick or slow you ran the last one, and we compete in Teams of 8. It’s a bit of fun really, although some people take it far too seriously. I’ve seen grown men literally push women out the way as they hurtle for the line. Arseholes.

I’ve had a cracking GP so far this season. I’m on a 3 race PB streak, although I’m under no illusions that it will end tonight. I’ve no problem with that, but it will be interesting to see how much running slow and long for nearly a month will affect my 5k speed.

The longer the day goes on however, the crapper I feel. At least my new running gloves arrive today. My old ones have served me well, I reckon I’ve had them a decade, but they’re no longer doing the job. I was diagnosed with Raynaud’s a couple of years back. As such, my hands suffer badly in the cold. And I’m bored shitless of it.

I have to get in a 5 mile warm up beforehand, to make sure I hit the 8-10 for the day. There’s a bit of a cold wind, so my new gloves get a test, and they definitely make a difference.

Warm up complete, I’m at the start. Due to the aforementioned good streak I’m having, my handicap start time is a stinking 17mins 50secs. I look at the list of others who’ll be starting with me, and there are some absolute beasts in there.

I’m not going to time my race tonight. I’m just going to restart my 5 mile run. That way I’m not looking at my time or pace, so I’ll hopefully just listen to my body rather than try to fly round it too fast like a tit.

Once we start, predictably, the rest of my group shoot off. It’s what I expected, so I’m not bothered. I am surprised by how comfortable running at a faster pace is though.

I turn at the halfway point and this is going quite well. Then I notice my left shoelace has come undone. What an absolute melt. I’ve only been tying my laces since I was a child, but tonight’s the night I choose to lose that basic life skill.

I keep going, but the sensible decision is to stop and tie them. Stuff my time and position. The finish line is usually a shit show anyway, without me sending either myself or other runners flying.

I find a spot out of the way on the Prom with about a quarter of a mile left and attempt to tie them. Runners are flying past me, and the more places I know I’m losing, the more I fiddle with my laces like a toddler who’s never done this before.

I tie them, take a look to make sure I’m not jumping back on in front of anyone, then resume. I notice that some of the runners I’m gaining on I’ve already passed earlier before shoelacegate, but it’s too late to catch them, I’ve run out of real estate. Mother fucker!

I find out later that I’ve just run a 23:16 5k, my 3rd fastest ever, and finish in 25:50, only 40 odd seconds down on my course record. Damn you shoelace! I finish about 50 places down as well. Double Damn you shoelace!

Wednesday will be an enforced rest day. Although, there’s nothing restful about it. I’m up early on the first train to Edinburgh to meet with my boss for a catch up. I’ll be back later that same day, then off to the match. So, absolutely no time for a run. Anyway, it was quite a nice day in Edinburgh, weather wise. I even cut round the back of the castle on the way into the office and took some arty photos..

As the day goes on, I can feel my cold creeping on and getting worse. That evening, like the athlete I am, I sink many pints in the pub before and after watching Newcastle win and get to the League Cup Final. More on that in the weeks to come, as that is massively going to fuck up one of my weekend long runs.

Thursday I wake up feeling shite. Yes, some of it is down to those pints I consumed, but also my cold is now very much bedded in.

Its intervals day, although not as long as the previous weeks. Today I need to do 6 x 1km Intervals. Usual drill, 10 min warm up to the local estate, do the loops. Big difference this week? It’s hard work. I feel quite weak, a mixture of the cold and probably a slight hangover. I get them done, stick to my thresholds, but the struggle is real.

Friday is my birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I reward myself by doing 4 easy miles with hill reps. I used to be cool. I wake up feeling even more shitter than yesterday and the can’t be arsedness is pretty high.

It doesn’t really get any better once I’m out there. The thought of doing those hill reps really doesn’t appeal to me. When I get to the hill though, it’s actually ok. If anything, they actually snap me out of the meh. There’s a bit of a wind coming off the sea though, so I’m actually quite glad when I finish. I end my Birthday with a family curry and still with a wankful head cold.

We’re back to normal training timetable this weekend. So a short threshold on the Saturday, with a long run on the Sunday. I also receive my next training block of 4 weeks. Shit is about to get real this next few weeks. An 18 miler followed by another 16 miles and then two lots of 20 milers. I’m tired just reading it.

For the first time in forever, I struggle to motivate myself to get out Saturday. I still have a manky cold, there’s a chilly wind coming off the sea, and the thought of getting out to run 3-4 miles at a slightly faster pace isn’t appealing.

I give myself a mental slap and get out the door. Once I’m out, it’s actually all right. Tis always the case. Now I just need to psyche myself up for the 16 miler tomorrow.

This will be the same route as last week, with a little tweak at the 9 mile point, because I can’t be arsed to climb out of Wallsend Burn. So I’m going to run over the top of it instead. A bridge over the top of it. I’m not a Marvel character.

Up early Sunday and it’s grim. Just on the positive though, my cold has miraculously almost disappeared. It’s a recovery of biblical miracle proportions. Whilst I’m feeling better, it still doesn’t change the fact the weather is shite.

First 3.5 miles again are all on the sea front. The sea is rough and noisy, which is always a sign the weather is shite down here. The wind isn’t really that strong, but constant and enough to lash cold rain onto me. I’m staying positive though. Someone told me you have to remember these runs when you get to the start line. The early, cold, wet, dark, mornings when you’ve got out and done it. Bottle them, you might need to go back to that mental reassurance at mile 1, 10, or 22 of the Marathon.

I cut inland and just like last week it’s a relief to be out of the weather. Well, at least the worst of it. The Plan this week has me at this point forward doing 3 mile at Marathon Pace, followed by one mile at easy pace, 3 times. I have a go at this, but the problem is I’m not 100% what my Marathon pace is going to be yet. Yes, I know.

I do have a good go at this anyway, and actually feel pretty good. Another bonus is that at mile 11, where my heart rate suddenly jumped last week, stays in threshold. It stays like this all the way home. I never go into max at all for the whole 16.

I change my route slightly at the end as well. I have my Marathon trainers on, and my original route home through the fields will be a quagmire. I don’t want to get them muddy or wet, so I dive off the Wagonway early and through the streets where I grew up instead.

There is something quite poignant about plodding through my childhood neighbourhood. 15 year old me would never have believed that 30 years later he’d be running past his old bedroom at 14 miles.

I feel so good that my last two miles are my fastest. This despite the fact we’re heading back easterly to the coast and that bastard head wind has returned. It’s probably not what I should be doing, the last two are supposed to be more of a cool down, but I feel good and my HR indicates I’m comfortable, so sod it. It ends up being 16.3 miles in 2 hours 35 mins. Slightly faster than last week. Lovely.

I don’t like out and backs, can you tell?

Just like last week, I’m really happy with getting through another 16 miler, fairly comfortably, at a pace that is on or around Marathon pace. Even though I haven’t really figured out what that is yet.

I probably should.

Bring on Week 5!

Mood: Bored of the weather

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 3

February 2, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Who wants an Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Three Orange Whips!”

Burton Mercer, The Blues Brothers

WEEK 3: JAN 27TH – FEB 2ND

It’s week 3 already, and I feel like I’m into the routine of this now. I haven’t yet hit the ‘ah shit, kill me now’ phase, which will inevitably rear its head at some point.

Everything this week will be the same but different. Same routine, different distances. I’m also pondering changing my big run to early Saturday, instead of Sunday. I’m 80% certain I will at this point, but I’ve got a few days to make my mind up. Or change it several times.

Monday, I wake up feeling pretty good. I’m finding I’m going through a phase of sleeping really well. Probably because I’m fucking knackered running 40 plus mile weeks.

I do my Yoga class but it’s a struggle this week. Thankfully, everyone else in the class also finds it hard work, which makes me feel a bit better/less woe is me.

I start my Weights session and again I’m not really feeling it. However, the longer it goes on, the better I feel. I’m starting to get used to the reps and the intensity. Telling you, I’ll be oiling up and posing like a roided up 80s wrestler before you know it.

Tuesday is Speed night. Not the film. It would give me no greater pleasure than to sit through Keanu and Sandra keep that bus above 50mph, but instead its Track night. And it’s Bonder…Bondra…Bondarenkos.

I actually really like Bondarenkos. 400m fast, 400 jog, 300 fast, 300 jog, 200 fast, 200 jog, 100 eye balls out. Rinse and repeat 3 times. I say I like them, but usually I don’t have to do a 4 mile warm up beforehand.

The session is named after 1988 Olympic 10k Gold Medalist Olga Bondarenko. Her coach devised this session to help her improve her speed. It’s fair to say it worked, it knocked 2 minutes off her PB and she took the gold at Seoul.

Although, Russian athlete, 1980s, possibly has a tinge of dodgy to it. Nevertheless, it’s seen as hugely beneficial for distance runners, and is actually Paula Radcliffe’s favourite training session. And if it’s good enough for Paula, then who am I to argue?

I do my 4 mile warm up, then a slower chattier 1 miler when I get to the club. As mentioned, I usually quite like this session, but I can tell straight away that I’m going to be off the pace tonight. Not massively, it’s just going to be hard work.

By the third set I’m definitely feeling it, but that is kind of the point and the reason there is a longish warm up. Tonight is not just about getting a speed session in, it’s also about teaching my body to run when fatigued.

I get through it, and I’ve knocked off 9 miles in total for the evening. I am knackered when I get home though. The first time since I started 3 weeks ago that I’ve felt it in my legs after a session. I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Wednesday morning I wake up and I’m still feeling it a bit. The legs are just a little bit heavier. I do a short Sun Salutation session to try and help wake everything up. I have a 6 mile easy run to do today, although this can be a rest day if I want. I’ll see how I feel later.

How do I feel later? Well, much better. I head out and really enjoy it. I’m starting to get into slow, easy running. As long as I’ve got my Bone Conductors in and some good music or podcasts playing then it’s all good.

Tonight my shuffle knocks out some good stuff that I’m in the mood for. Radiohead, The Smiths, The Pixies, Belle and Sebastian, Stone Roses, The Charlatans, Pulp. It’s like my 90s Teenage Indie playlist has returned for a nostalgic one night only reform. I complete my 6 down on the Prom and give myself a pat on the back.

Thursday we’re back to the most testing session of the week for me – Threshold Intervals. This week it’s slightly changed again, 6 x 1 mile intervals. I’m going to stick with the local estate loop I did last week. It seemed to work well, so if it ain’t broke..

I wake up feeling a bit stiff again on Thursday, and my old friend the dodgy Achilles is also having a little grumble. I’m convinced that if anything will stop me doing the Marathon, it’ll be that prick.

I’m out early evening and I feel quite good. I start the first mile and already my pace is faster than last week, while my heart rate stays in threshold. In fact, this continues for all 6 miles of the session.

I find this the easiest and, dare I say it, the most enjoyable Interval session of the three I’ve completed so far. Surprisingly good, surprisingly painless. Beautiful.

Friday is 4 easy and some hill reps. I head along and back down to the sea front for this one. There is a fairly steep slope that heads down to the lower prom, and this is the ‘hill’ they would like us to attack. No Storm Shithead this week, so I can brave going down there without the threat of being swept out to sea.

I’m not as tired or as stiff as I think I will be when I wake up. I’m not looking forward to the hills, but actually, when I get to them, I feel quite strong. It’s a nice morning as well, and I complete my 4 miles on the beach. Because why not.

Friday night I do some core strength and have an early night, ready to ‘attack’ those 16 miles early doors on Saturday.

So to Saturday. I’m up at 5:30am and I feel..good. I got plenty of sleep and have definitely benefited from the early night. I’m a little nervous about this run. It’s only 2 miles more than I completed quite comfortably a couple of weeks ago, but it feels like quite an important one mentally.

16 miles is starting to verge into Marathon territory. If I can get through this run, at a nice easy consistent pace, and feel ok at the end of it, then it’ll be a huge confidence booster.

I’m aiming for around 9:40 pace here, slightly slower than my target Marathon pace of 9:30. I’m out the door for 6:20am and away. I head down the sea front and there’s a bit of a cold head wind for this first 5k.

I turn inland though and this disappears. I soon get into a nice rhythm, hitting my pace, sitting on a high aerobic/low threshold heart rate.

It’s pretty flat (and lovely and quiet) until just short of 10 miles, when I have to climb out of Wallsend Burn. I knew there was a bit of a hill here, short but steep, but I push through it. Then I’ve got a gradual climb for a mile or so, after which it’ll be either fairly flat or downhill for the home stretch of the last 5.

At 11 mile I take a gel, still feeling good, and notice my heart rate jumps to low max. I’ll be honest, this pisses me off a bit. I feel good, I’ve been keeping the low pace, but just can’t seem to get it back down, even when I slow down a bit. For the last 5 miles, it jumps between high threshold and low max. Still though, I feel fine. I’m not tired, I’m not begging for this to end, I’m not uncomfortable in any way.

I finish back where I started, 16.2 miles and 2 hours and 37 minutes later, and I feel great. In fact, I’m absolutely fucking delighted. When I check my Heart Rate, I note it went into max for 25 minutes of that. Something to keep an eye on, but not something that is going to keep me awake at night.

Regardless of that HR issue, this has gone well. I’ve hit a big milestone and proved to myself that I can comfortably run 62% of a Marathon. I’m no cocky bastard though. Next week will see another 16 miler. I’ll be less nervous of that one, more confident in fact, but I’ll approach it slow and steady and concentrate on keeping that HR down.

Week 3 done, a good week. I started with a touch of tiredness and fearing that this could be the first shit week. I finish it though feeling confident I’m heading in the right direction going into week 4.

Mood: Relief

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 2

January 26, 2025January 26, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Runner, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

“I hate Illinois Nazis”

Jake Blues, The Blues Brothers

WEEK 2: JAN 20TH – 26TH

This should be a much more structured and typical week of training. No ‘extra’ work or life stuff to get in the way. More importantly though, I’ll get proper rest in between sessions, something I didn’t have the luxury of during week 1.

On Monday my legs are a little stiff and tired, but nothing to write home about. I’m glad of the rest, and in the evening get in my Yoga and Weights sessions. I feel that Weights session on the legs a bit, but again, nowt major. Although my evening is somewhat spoilt by the news that we have a potential weather warning for the coming weekend. Oh fucking goody.

Tuesday is Speed session at the club. My 4 mile warm up is proper ploddy. Leggy and lethargic. We’re doing Up and Downs for the club tonight – fast with recovery jogs. I’m not feeling it when I arrive, but as soon as I start, I feel good. All the tiredness disappears, and I complete the reps with no problem at all. I do over 10 miles in all and mentally, it’s been a good night.

When I get up Wednesday morning, I’m feeling a little stiff, especially in my right Achilles. For a few years, I had lots of problems with it. I used to call it my ‘grumbling Achilles’. Early last year though, it suddenly cleared up. This is the first time I’ve ‘felt’ it in quite a while.

By the time I pop out for my easy 5 miler in the evening, it’s settled down. Something to certainly keep an eye on. The weather warning has been upgraded to Amber, all day Friday, gale force winds. Thoughts and prayers for my roof.

It’s Intervals time again on Thursday. For this, I’m heading to an estate quite near me, one of those nice middle class estates where cars and people only go if they actually live there. Quiet and safe, it’s a perfect spot.

Looking back at week 1, I realised that I ballsed up my first go at Intervals in Glasgow. I went far too fast, and epically failed to stay in threshold pace for most of it. Which kind of defeated the point of them.

My threshold should be between 142-159bpm. Last week I went over that for the majority of the intervals. Tonight, I’m keeping an eye on it. Look at the below. Magnificent, isn’t it. Starting to get the hang of this slowing down malarkey.

With warm up, intervals, and cools down, it’s another 9.5 miles. I don’t feel tired at all though. It’s another morale boosting training session in the locker. I’m sure in 3 or 4 weeks time, I’ll be saying the complete opposite.

Friday is clusterfuck weather day. The wind is going to be nuts all day, but at 7am is less nuts. So the plan on Thursday night when I go to bed is to get up, assess it, then decide whether I can get out for my 4 mile easy run.

The wind gives me proper PTSD. In 2021, a storm took part of my roof off. Since then, every weather warning involving wind gives me a twitch.

When I get up it doesn’t seem that bad, so I risk it, heading south into it. There’s a hill halfway through, so I get my 10×10 second reps in, then hit 2 miles and turn. The wind suddenly starts to pick up, but I’m heading North now with it on my tail. Clever shite me. The storm eventually pisses off later that day, but leaving me 2 tiles short on my roof. Bastard.

Saturday’s choice, I can rest or run a short threshold paced run. It’s my mother’s birthday, she lives 2 miles away, so I decide to have a gentle plod up there and back to see her.

Whilst Storm Whatdoyoucallit has buggered off, it’s still a bit windy, and the head wind heading to her house is constant and awful. However, I again feel like I’m starting to teach myself to stay in Threshold instead of pushing too hard.

I also feel really good when I get back. I thought there might be more tiredness setting in by this stage, but I’m feeling in a good place to attack a slow 12 miler tomorrow. However, that’s not for another 24 hours, so means diddly shit at this point.

Sunday morning comes around and, whilst it’s only 2c outside, at least it’s not really, cold, icy, or windy out there. I need a break from the shit weather on my long runs, I’m bored of it.

There is a bit of a frost, granted, but not the black ice arm breaker we’ve had the last two weekends. Again, the first 6 miles are a bit of a slog. I’m running slow, but I just can’t stay in aerobic, instead drifting into very low threshold. I feel good though.

I take a gel at 6 mile as planned, and suddenly the run changes. I speed up a tiny bit, but my heart rate stays low. Miles 6 to 12 are quite enjoyable. I’m in a rhythm, keeping it high aerobic/low threshold, and my pace of 9:30 is where I want to be.

I complete the last two miles on the sea front, and remember one of the reasons that in usual times I don’t run on a Sunday. It’s full of fucking runners. They’re everywhere. Solos. Doubles. Trios. Big groups of the fuckers. EVERYWHERE. It’s like runners rush hour.

I finish my run down there, 12.2 miles, in a nice time of 1:55. It’s about 50/50 between aerobic and low threshold, so I’ll take it. My Garmin likes it a lot, knocking another 5 mins off my Marathon race predictor.

Week 2 down, another 45 miles in the locker. I feel pretty good, not just physically, but also mentally. It’s hard work, but I’m following the plan and ‘coping’.

Next week will be more of a test. My long run is a 16 miler, but I feel confident approaching it. The next few weeks will be the start of the body creaking and the mind doubting. Strap in.

Mood: Needs bottling

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 1

January 23, 2025January 26, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Runner, Running, RunningBlog, training2 Comments

“It’s 106 miles to Chicago. We’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses.”

Elwood Blues, The Blues Brothers

So, it begins. I know. Another wanker chronicling his Marathon training. Big wow. Bore off. I get it, I don’t blame you. This one, the first one, will also be the longest. I’m really not selling this.

However, for my own sanity I’ve decided to record how training is going. When it’s good, when it’s shit, when I feel like I’ve made a huge mistake.

Getting it down on ‘paper’ I’m hoping will help the process. It’s a chance for me to take a breath and reflect, maybe give myself a potentially much needed ra-ra speech.

Most importantly of all, I’m hoping I’ll be able to look back at these when it’s all over and laugh. Even at the parts where I’m blatantly crying for help.

My coach at the club is sending across my plan in 4 week blocks. The idea being, I don’t look ahead to week 9 now and shit myself. It’s a good strategy. I like it. My original plan with the blogs was to make them 4 weekly, but halfway through week 2 I noticed I was writing a novel. So, weekly it will be.

There’s your foreword, now let’s get cracking.

WEEK 1: JAN 13TH – 19TH

If ever there was a reminder that this is going to be far simpler on paper than reality, then welcome to Week 1. I have picked one of the shittest weeks to start training.

Usually, my life is pretty boring and routine focused, which is absolutely fine by me. I’ve massively cut down my alcohol consumption over the past few years, so other than a match day I’m not one for popping to the pub with my cat and a copy of the Racing Post.

This week though.

The lead up to the week is also not as I planned. I pop out for my usual long run on Saturday morning, my last before I switch to a Sunday. I decide to go out on a bang and try a Half. We’re in a cold snap, and there’s a ground frost, but all very runnable.

I get on the Wagonway and I feel great. My pace is pretty good, and mentally this is going to set me up nicely for the weeks ahead. I leave the Wagonway at Percy Main and, suddenly, everything changes. It’s a little bit slippier. It appears to have turned from frost into ice.

I head into Shields and this is getting worse, to the point where I’ve moved onto the roads. Although, they aren’t much better.

Then it happens.

I feel my feet go and I slide majestically on my arse along the path. I’m not hurt at all. I actually did this gracefully and quite magnificently if I don’t say so myself. The biggest plus though, is that there is no one around to see it.

I decide to continue running but to slow down. Round the corner, a car has skidded into the side of a truck. Everyone is ok, but it’s now obvious that there is black ice everywhere. I run on a little bit further, but after another close arse falling call at just shy of 9 miles, I call the whole thing off. I’m only three stops from home on the Metro so, safety first, I tip toe to the Station.

Disappointing, but these things happen. Hilariously, on my way to the Metro, a lady walking her dog slips. I go to check she’s ok, and she is, but then her dog bites me. Right on the fucking thigh. She’s very apologetic, but it absolutely knacks. Whilst it doesn’t draw blood, and I am wearing shorts and tights which probably help cushion it, it does leave quite a mark and a bruise.

It’s just not my morning.

Monday though starts well enough. Mondays are going to be ‘rest days.’ When I say rest, I mean no running. Instead, I have to work on my core strength. I already do a 30 minute online Yoga session every Monday evening. For the next 16 weeks, I’ll be adding on a 30 min weights session straight after.

I found a great ‘Runners Core Strength’ workout on the Nike App which I tried during the Christmas break. It was hard work but good work. Seeing as my upper body strength is as weak as a kitten, anything that involves weights is hard to me. I plan to also do this set on a Friday evening. I’ll be jacked like the Ultimate Warrior by May man.

Tuesday’s are going to be my only Club session of the week. I’ll be missing Thursdays and off doing Thresholds somewhere else. Tuesday is also my only speed session where I’m allowed to run fast. The biggest difference is going to be that I have to do a 3-4 mile warm up beforehand.

Surprisingly though, I really enjoy this first higher mileage Tuesday. I do a nice 3 mile plod and finish at the club, do another mile with everyone else, then a 400m rep session on the track. This is actually the best Track session I’ve had in months. I feel really strong. If every Tuesday is like this I’ll be delighted.

Wednesday is the start of where it gets a bit ‘complicated.’ I’m off to the match in the evening, so I get up to do my session pre work in the morning. It’s a 5 mile easy run. I’m not very good at ‘easy’ runs. I find it a bit of a slog, probably caused by not having the recovery time. But needs must.

Early Thursday I’m on a train to Scotland for work. It’s a team catch up and meal, but I’ve already decided that I’m not going to drink. What a boring bastard.

Thursdays are possibly going to be the most painful run of the week – Intervals. For this first session, I have to hit 10 x 4 min threshold intervals, with 2 min recoveries between. That can be a static rest, walk, or jog.

I know Glasgow fairly well now, so I’ve already planned where to complete this. Down by the Clyde, there is a perfect rectangular route that I can do, crossing two bridges. Clear, not many pedestrians, no roads to cross. Perfect.

Intervals are probably my least favourite training sessions. They feel like they go on forever. This one is no different. The route does turn out to be as perfect as I thought it would be, but it’s a slog on my own. I jog the recoveries, I find static recoveries don’t help me.

Friday morning I’m up early and outside the hotel by 6am. I need to complete 4 easy miles, with 10 x 10 second hills somewhere during it. The hotel is right next to a hill, so I decide to get those hills out the way early. They actually feel ok. The 4 easy miles though really are easy. I’m knackered. I head out to Celtic Park and back, then have the good old Premier Inn buffet breakfast. Burp.

Saturday I’m back home and it’s a change of routine I’ll need to get used to. No long runs on a Saturday. Instead, it’s a 5k threshold. I then go to the match, where Newcastle are utter shite, and like a good lad curtail my drinking as I know it’s long run time tomorrow.

Sunday morning is cold and icy. Bollocks. The cold I’ll deal with, the ice though can fuck right off. It’s a baptism of fire, as I have to do 14 miles at aerobic pace. At this juncture, I’m still not 100% sure what I’m aiming for Marathon time wise. I mean, my plan is set around a time, but I think I’ve been overly cautious.

Nevertheless, I go out for my slow 14 and the first 6 miles are a struggle mentally. I feel like I’m going at a glacial pace and that this is going to take forever. Those 6 miles seem to tick over slowly, even though my pace is actually slightly faster than it probably should be. Learning to slow down will come I’m sure, but early doors it’s hard getting my head around it.

The last 7 miles or so are ok though. I’ve settled into it, avoided most of the awful ice, and I finish up in 2:15. Not too shabby. I feel great as well, like I didn’t push myself hard, and when I finished I more than felt like I could have gone on.

Week one done.

Mood – optimistic

North Tyneside Trail Run

January 10, 2025January 11, 2025 notbuilttorun2 Comments

“I told you we should have stuck to the tracks.”

Vern, Stand By Me

I don’t dish out any coaching, training, or equipment advice on here. I mean, who the fuck am I? I’m just some chunky bloke from Shields who likes running. Most of the time.

Having said that, if Nike want to pay me a few grand to plug water bottles, this place will be full of selfies of me sucking from them like a newborn quicker than you can shout ‘fucking sell out.’

The only advice I ever give out, and only because I’m asked for it, happens every January. A non-runner will get in touch, tell me they’re going to start running, and what tips can I give them.

Easy. Don’t start running in January. It’s cold, it’s dark, the weather’s shite, you’ll hate it and give up. I find the whole month a slog. Start in the Spring, you’ll thank me later.

So, here I am in the first week in January, lined up at the start for a 12k race in the mud. Honestly, I’m my own worst enemy sometimes.

This is also going to be my last race for at least 6 months. Marathon training starts next week, so this is my final jolly before I get stuck into 16 weeks of disciplined running.

As for this race, I’ve never actually run it before. I have marshalled it though. It’s organised by my Club, but I don’t do mud or anything that even has a whiff of Cross fucking Country about it, so I’ve just helped out instead. This year though, why not?

Course wise, this one is a bit different from a ‘normal’ race, in that it has a mix of everything – beach, cliffs, climbs, trails, mud, and a track finish. It’s probably the most random 12k you’ll ever run.

It’s also a bit of a no pressure race. No one is looking for a time. Due to the random terrain, your pace will be all over the shop. It also seems that no one really cares what position they finish either. It’s just a bit of ‘fun’ apparently. Something to shake out the last bits of Christmas overindulgence. I’ll be the judge of both those things.

How much ‘fun’ you’ll have is down to the weather. Not just the weather on the day, but what it’s been like in the weeks and days before.

And guess what it’s done most of the week leading up to this? That’s right, it’s pissed down with rain and sleet. Oh goody.

But before we get to the mud wrestling, we’re on the beach. This ain’t Saint Tropez either. It’s the North Sea, it’s 3C, it’s windy, and, guess what, it’s pissing down again!

I have been expecting it though. I can’t be the only runner who is constantly checking their weather app. We’re actually lucky we’re by the coast, the rest of the country is caked in snow. I’m wearing my club vest, gloves, beanie, and I’m double layered everywhere. I don’t want to die in the woods.

Rather than invest in Trail Shoes, today is the day I’m going to kill off my Brooks Launch 9s instead. They have served me well, but they are now very much end of life. It’s going to be a quagmire out there, therefore their sacrifice will be a noble one.

It’s a 10am start, but have I mentioned the weather is crap? Despite only living half a mile from the start line, I don’t leave my house till the last possible moment I can get away with it.

It’s even crapper down the beach. It’s an Easterly wind, coming straight off the North Sea. I blame Denmark for this misery. I see one of the guys from my group and we do the usual run chat. The weather and our running shoes basically.

We all line up, wait for the shout, then we’re off. No messing, away we go. We’re going to be on the beach for just over a mile. Apart from that minging side wind, this is actually ok.

Now, I’m really not arsed on my time for this. As mentioned earlier, no one really is. However, I do note that early doors this is pretty quick. I also know, once we get in the mud, it’ll drop quite dramatically.

We’ve run out of beach and reached the stairs to get back up to the Prom. Unfortunately, due to the Storms, a lot of sand has been washed away. This leaves quite a big gap between beach and step. So like a first round of Takeshi’s Castle, we’re all climbing and scrambling up it. And if you’re a short arse like me, the struggle is real.

Up on the Prom, the wind is an absolute bastard. We’re only on here a short time thank Christ, before we hit the first bit of trail that goes across the cliff tops. Thankfully, we won’t see that wind again. Instead, who fancies a bit of water, mud and ice? Yah!

I know this section quite well, although I only run on it during Spring and Summer. Because, the rest of the time, it’s a total puddle shit show. Like today.

Because of the snow/sleet/rain combo we had during the night and early this morning, these aren’t normal puddles. They’re death traps. Slippier than a Tory MP.

After avoiding falling off a cliff and being swept out to sea towards those weather sending bastards in Denmark, we’re back on glorious tarmac. This brief piece of road running heaven will also be the last time the phrase ‘I’m actually enjoying this’ will pop into my head today.

You see, we’re about to drop onto the real cluster fuck of the course – Holywell Dene. Sounds idilic doesn’t it? On a warm June evening it is. It’s a beautiful woodland walk, following the path of a stream, into where the Dene and the old Wagonway meet. Chocolate box stuff.

Box full of turds today. As soon as we’re on it, it’s a mess. Water and ice everywhere. My trusty old Brooks struggling to find any type of grip. If I escape this without going on my arse at least once I’ll be staggered.

We’re going to be on this tiny death trap of a path for just shy of 2 miles. It’s also very up and down. Not massive ups and downs, but with all this ice, the ankle snapping danger levels are quite high.

I’m no gung ho madman. So whilst I’m maintaining a decent running pace, I’m looking down A LOT. I’m over working and tensing up to try and avoid flying. The next day, I’ll wake up with sore legs, something I never get.

Although, on the plus side, I feel like I’m getting used to the conditions. I mean, my feet can’t get any wetter, so who gives a shit if I run through another puddle?

At 4.5 miles you have a dilemma. The path splits in two. It will meet again in about half a mile, but you have a choice – Hill now, or Hill later. Go left and it’s flat now, but you’ll climb at the end. Go right, it’s a climb straight away, but then you’ve got it done and it levels off.

I choose right. Partly because lots of people who’ve done this before advised me to, and partly because I’ve given up giving a fuck. Let’s just get it out the way eh?

After half a mile of that, we’re hitting sort of the home straight. Ish. We’re going to come off the Dene path and take a hard left on to the Wagonway. This will be a straight 2 mile to the finish.

The path here is just as crap as the Dene. Wet, icy, and slippy. But at least it’s flat. I know this part of the course very well. I live right next to it, so run here a lot. Again though, NOT IN THE FUCKING WINTER.

Up until a couple of years ago, weather like this would make a section of this completely impassable without wading through knee deep water. Thankfully, they did some drainage work, so there may still be giant puddles, but at least they’re only puddles. I’m not a Duck.

As I know the end is nigh, I get a second wind. I feel quite good, and I’m picking off a few runners. I’m massively uncompetitive, but I won’t lie, I do get a perverse pleasure from passing people near the end of races. Especially those Vegan Runners. I’ll get emails.

All that is left to do is come off the Wagonway, cross the Cricket pitch, and finish on the Track. Easy right? Well, it all almost goes tits up. Having survived the treacherous underfoot in the Dene, I run onto the pitch and nearly go flying. Oh the irony.

Unscathed, I’ve never been so happy to get on the Track. Thankfully, I’ve only got to run 300m of it. I’ve mentioned before that I’m built for endurance rather than speed, but I have a good go at attempting a sprint finish. Bless me. I finish in 1:01:02, with a rather tidy pace of 8:12 a mile. Nice.

There is no medal or t-shirt for finishing this one. Instead, it’s a rather snazzy buff. Who doesn’t love a buff?

All that is left for me to do is pop into our Clubhouse for the infamous post race cake selection. For the record, I demolish a rather large chunk of Chocolate Orange cake. Wanting to avoid trouble when I get back home, I buy cakes for the wife and daughter before I leave. Up there for thinking, down there for dancing.

Did I enjoy this race? Well, sort of. Brilliantly organised by the Club as always, of that there is no doubt, I just don’t do trails and mud. This run certainly reinforced that, I can tell you. No Cross fucking Country.

Having said that, I’m really glad I did it. You know why? It was good that it was hard. I start Marathon training next week, I needed to know that when the going gets tough, I’ve got the balls of steel to push through it.

This race gave me those balls. Of steel.

Now bring on the Marathon..

The Masterplan

January 1, 2025 notbuilttorun2025, marathon, Runner, Running, RunningBlog1 Comment

“I have a cunning plan”

Baldrick, Blackadder

Happy 2025. Proper sounds like we’re in the future now. Which isn’t great, as most of the futures I imagine are from watching far too many dystopian sci-if films. We’ll soon either be wiped out by a Virus, something from Space, or by machines and AI of our own making. 5 years ago we would have scoffed at those predictions.

In the Christmas Special, the overriding theme was that 2024 was an exceptionally good running year for me. PBs galore, I felt like I had really levelled up.

Halfway through the year, when I was starting to run well and see improvements, I made a rather impulsive decision. One that I said I would never do.

I signed up for a Marathon.

I started running ‘properly’ back in the late 2000s for reasons I’ve already written about. Since then I’ve ran a lot, and all sorts of distances. 5ks, 10ks, 10 milers. I think I’ve worked out that I’ve completed the Half Marathon distance nearly 40 times.

But never a Marathon. There is a good reason for that. I’ve never wanted to. Let’s face it, Marathons are different gravy. The jump from 5k to 10k isn’t that massive when you think about it, same with 10k to Half.

Half to Full Marathon though, that’s huge. Physically and psychologically. It’s another double figures of miles you have to find. You have to think about a training plan and fuelling. There are no shortcuts and no hiding. You can’t just rock up having put in half arsed preparation.

With all that in mind, I’ve always talked myself out of doing one. I don’t have time, I don’t have the fitness, it’s not fair on the family, and most importantly of all, I don’t want to make myself look like a tit by failing.

Now the next thing I’m going to say might upset some people. It’s not the Vegans this time either. Are we ready?

Marathons are Running events. Not participation events.

Call me a traditionalist, but they were designed to be RUN. They have cut off times for a reason. Before anyone starts shouting at me, people turning up for Parkrun and walking is absolutely fine. That’s kind of what Parkrun is about. Marathons though, no.

The point is, I didn’t want to attempt one until I thought I could run the whole distance. Which is why it’s now or never, do or die, shit or bust.

I won’t have a better opportunity than now. I’m running so well, with a great base to start from, and part of a club where I can get good, solid support, advice and coaching, I’d be nuts not to give it a crack. No pun intended.

I’m not getting any younger either. I will hit my mid 40s in 2025. I’m under no illusions that very soon things are going to get harder, things are going to start niggling. Things might even start to fall off.

So, May the 4th 2025, I’m off to run 26.2 miles around Belfast. 16 weeks of training begins January 13th. All my eggs are in one basket. Nowt else matters this year, there are no other goals. Get the training done, get to the starting line, hit my target time.

Hopefully in June I’ll be looking back and laughing at what all the fuss was about. Or something might have fallen off after all.

So Happy New Year, attack 2025, and do whatever makes you tick.

Peace out.

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