“So far we’ve had a woman with no hair, a woman with no teeth, and a woman with hair on her teeth.”
Badvoc, Chelmsford 123
Monday 14th September – Despite yesterday’s Great North Run going far better than expected, or possibly feared, this morning my big toe on my left foot is sore.
I noticed it straight after the run to be honest. My toe nail was quite bruised and tender – probably caused by the distraction of strapping my other gammy foot, meaning I failed to put my sock or shoe or both on properly.
Bollocks.
Ok the plus side, the foot feels ok. Not 100% by any means, but no worse after its heroic efforts yesterday.
I’m missing out my weights session again today, with the plan to try and rest it and pick it up again later in the week.
Therefore today I’m doing NOWT. Well, I’m at work, but it’s a rest day.
Meanwhile, I continue to laugh at my algorithm popping up stories from run influencers who had shitters at the Great North Run because it was ‘too hot.’
I’ll say this one more time for those at the back – was it shite too hot. We’ve had a summer of unbearable heat. A summer you would/should have been training for this race.
Compared to that heat, this should have been a cake walk.
Cake run even.
Anyway, I’ll die on a hill defending the weather yesterday.
Tuesday 15th September – This will be the last Tuesday I have to complete a warm up before the session.
I get it in and all seems ok with the foot. Tonight the club session is ‘Ups and Downs.’ The idea being you go quicker for a few minutes, jog, quicker again for a certain amount of time and so on.
I decide to go with a group in my ability range who all did the Great North Run at the weekend.
Everyone is, as you would expect, a bit tired, therefore we all agree we’re going to take it easy.
I notice something might be a bit off when we start catching up with the faster group who set off in front of us.
It’s not a a good start.
This continues all the way through the session. We’re doing it far too fast. Even our recovery jogs – too fucking fast.
When we finish, I’m knackered. And my foot is niggling me again. I only have myself to blame. I should have slowed down and done my own thing.
Instead, I might have re-knackered myself.
Wednesday 16th September – It’s 6 easy tonight. And I will take it easy.
I set off and immediately there is a problem. And it’s not my right foot. It’s now my left one.
Plantar fasciitis.
You have got to be fucking joking me.
The combination of probably running the Great North Run too fast, and then my recovery last night also too fast, has given me Planter fucking fasciitis.
You idiot.
If it was physically possible, I would boot myself right up the arse at this point.
As well know with Plantar Fasciitis, it can be deceptive. As after about half a mile, it settles right down. But I know that means fuck all. Like Arnie, it will be back.
I finish up down the sea front and walk back home knowing this could be bad news.
Thursday 17th September – So now I have a quandary.
It’s my last Thresholds session, do I risk it? I’ve had Plantar Fasciitis before and it fucked off as quickly as it came, but it was because I rested it for a day or so.
I decide to do what I did last week. Head for the field, onto the grass, for these last Thresholds KMs.
I also decide to slow it right down. Like 15 seconds a mile right down.
Meanwhile, during the day at my desk I do the good old fashioned ‘roll it over a tennis ball’ trick. Fuck knows if it will help.
The run follows the pattern of last night. First half a mile is agony, then it settles.
I am, for once this fucking week, as sensible as I said I would be. I calm the pace right down. These are the slowest Thresholds I’ve compiled through the entire cycle.
When I get back, the heel is sore. Ironically, or almost comically, my right ankle has had a Lazarus back from the dead resurrection.
Or maybe my left is distracting it.
Friday 18th September – It’s hills day.
Again, like last week, I’m avoiding the big bastard ramp down the sea front that I’m supposed to do these on.
I’ve also now completely abandoned my Weights sessions.
It really is damage limitation now.
Instead, it’s back to 10 reps on the much easier path out of the old Quarry now Park.
Yep, first half a mile, pain.
The toddler stabiliser version of hill reps done, I finish my 4 miles down the sea front.
The heel is tender again when I’m done.
I roll it on a Tennis ball with a foreboding sense of doom.
Saturday 19th September – It never rains but pours.
I have one last long run to do – 14 miles – and I’m doing it this morning. Newcastle are at home later, so it was always the plan.
I think about changing it to tomorrow but, actually, I’d rather just get it down and then give myself an extra days rest going into my final week.
I’m up early, out, and the first half a mile is painful. Yup.
It then calms down.
At 9 miles, I can feel it a bit again – to the point it worries me a tiny bit and I slow down.
It seems to pass, and I push through the next 5 miles.
14 miles, done. Long stuff, done.
I should be celebrating, but I’m just relieved at this point. Actually, I’m not even that. With 8 days to go, I think I might be fucked.
To continue with my stupid bastard decisions this week, I head off to the match and end up getting a bit pissed.
That’s clever.
Sunday 20th September – Despite the being a bit pissed situation the day before, I’m wake up with no ill effects.
My heel however, is tender.
Therefore today I have announced to the house that I’m doing fuck all.
Tennis ball rolling and elevation. That’s it.
I have 7 days and 3 more runs to shake this shit off.
Monday 7th September – After defying the odds and completing 20 miles with what I thought was an injured foot, I’m feeling like the cock of the north today.
The foot feels fine, the rough stuff is done, bring on the Marathon.
By early evening though, it’s all change. I do my 30 minute yoga and start to feel the foot again.
After that, I do my weights session and, dare I say it, I get the first ping of pain in it.
Bollocks.
In fact, before I head to bed that night I swear my ankle has swollen up a tiny bit. I can’t tell if I’m just imaging it or not.
Anyway, it’s not a great finish to the day and I’ve somehow managed to kick the confidence from yesterday out of myself.
To complicate matters, it’s the Great North Run on Sunday. I’m not planning to do nowt daft, but I was still planning on running it faster than a usual long run.
I just have to get there first.
Tuesday 8th September – Tonight is a track session. This should be interesting.
I head out for my warm up and everything feels ok. My head is not in a great place though. I’m worried that I’m going to get injured, worried that I’ll make things worse, so my mindset is just to make it through every run.
That’s not great. It means I’m not enjoying it, and it makes me tight and much harder work than it should be. I can’t relax, basically.
Tonight’s track is 1200m at 10k pace, a 200m jog, then 400m at 5k. Do this 4 times.
It’s hard work. Again, half of it is mental. Halfway round I can feel my Achilles grumbling. I actually think about calling it quits after the third set.
Instead, I grit it out and finish. At this point, I’m not sure what’s the worse – the foot or my head.
It’s going to be a long two weeks.
Wednesday 9th September – Despite last nights intense session, the foot feels ok.
One thing I will say at the moment, I’m sleeping like a baby. A baby that sleeps really well by the way.
The foot doesn’t bother me all morning and I do as little as possible on it, just sitting at my desk and working.
By lunchtime though, it’s back to niggling me again. I pop on the strapping, take some ibuprofen, and by mid afternoon it’s eased.
However, such is the rollercoaster ride of this fucking injury, it’s bothering me again when it’s time to go out for my easy 6 miles.
I get out and I’m not 100% comfortable from the start, or at any point during the run to be honest.
By the end, the foot feels a bit sore and for the first time I’m worried. When I get in, I do some stretching and foam rolling and just get into bed.
I take a good proper look at it for the first time , even popping my phone light on, and I can’t see any bruising or any obvious swelling. It may be swollen a tiny bit, but if it is, it’s not noticeable.
The most bizarre thing with this is, who knows what will be like tomorrow. Normal, hopefully.
Thursday 10th September – At least the Thursday Thresholds are calming down a bit. Although, it still three lots of 4km (that’s 3 x 2.49 miles if you’re an old bastard like me).
3km of that is at Threshold, 1km at Marathon pace.
I’m going to let my foot ‘breath’ for as long as possible today. So not strap it. I don’t think it’s helping to strap it up when not running.
I’m also going to do the session on a local sports field. So completely on the grass. This is in the hope that staying off the road will mean less impact.
I’ve no idea what I’m doing, to be honest.
The field is around a Km in circumference. It’s a field we do club sessions on during the light summer evenings.
It’s usually a busy field during this time, with lots of football training sessions going on.
Now we’re in September, it’s dead. Not a soul on it except dog walkers here and there.
I set off and right away I realise this genius idea of mine is actually going to be massively fucking tedious.
Between reps and recoveries, I reckon this will be about 12 or 13 laps around the field.
It’s also quite windy, which is not great on here, as it’s hugely exposed.
The first set of thresholds go ok. I make good pace (too fucking fast again) and the foot is ok.
Second set is a struggle. I feel like my Achilles is grumbling, plus the monotony of the laps is fucking with my head.
It’s during this set that I make an executive decision to not do my hill reps tomorrow. Or my weights session. Nor do a shake out on Saturday.
With the Great North Run in mind, it’s become clear that I need to rest this foot. Get through tonight, then do nowt for a couple of days.
After I’ve made that decision, the third set goes quite well and I get through it with some sort of second wind.
I’ve done 10 miles by the time so get back, which is not bad at all for someone with an alleged gammy foot.
Nearly there I tell myself. Nearly there.
Friday 11th September – True to my word, I don’t run today. Or do my weights session.
The foot has probably bothered me more today than ever. But, again, it comes and goes in waves, and it’s still not what I would class as pain.
I pop to the shop at lunch time and it my Achilles does feel a bit stiff and achy though.
In the evening, I head out to the Pasta Party for the charity I’m running the Great North Run for.
It’s a local Hospice, one I’ve ran the last 13 for, and it’s a lovely evening. It’s nice to meet other runners, hear their stories and so on.
We also do a bit of yoga with a local instructor which I enjoy.
My foot feels a little out of sorts when I get back, but I’m glad I skipped the hills today. I just hope things start to settle down after tomorrow. I’m starting to feel a little bit worried…
Saturday 12th September – Today I plan to do as little as possible. Originally, the plan was to do a gentle 4 mile this morning, to make it a 17 mile weekend.
I knocked that on the head on Thursday night, and so stick with it. The only physical activity I plan to do today is a tidy up of the front garden.
I also elevate my leg when I can. This seems to help. Unfortunately, idle hands make the devils work, and I start Googling what might be wrong with my foot.
All this does is make me more paranoid and convinced that I’m actually fucked, that it’s now inevitable that either in the lead up to the Marathon or on the day itself. I’m going to rupture something.
Sunday 13th September – It’s Great North Run day.
This year, I’m not going to bore anyone with a full race review. The only goal of today is to run well and survive.
So with that in mind, let’s just pick up the highlights.
With a mixture of drugs and strapping, the foot behaves itself. It’s a good job they don’t want my piss for a drugs test though.
Some boomer took a piss on me in the Pen.
I high fived Dan Burn.
Half way round I high fived a young kid in a s*underland shirt and shouted ‘WHEEEY I’VE TOUCHED DAN BURN!’
Apparently it was ‘hot.’ Hot? Pah! See my post about my week of running hell in Menorca. Hot my arse.
I set out to run a flat 8 minute pace all the way round. In the end, I did a 7:56 pace and finished in a course PB of 1:44:45
I felt comfortable as fuck all the way round. In fact, I’ve never felt so comfortable running the GNR before.
Most of the Pen passed me in the first mile. Then from mile 6 onwards, I started picking them off like a sniper.
A BOOMER PISSED ON ME IN THE PEN
So, a good day all in all. Apart from the pissing incident.
After all the drama, worry, and sleepless nights of the week, I made it and it couldn’t have gone better.
The real test is how my foot feels tomorrow.
2 weeks to go. Hang on in there foot.
Mood: Not hot.
Hang it in the Louvre! Still not paying £30 for this..
“I’ve not got much to show for my time on this Earth, John. 36 pairs of shoes and a set of Babyliss crimpers.”
Kayleigh, Car Share
Monday 31st August – It’s a Bank Holiday Monday as well as the last day of summer. Allegedly.
After the slightly dramatic 20 miler yesterday, I was half expecting to wake up sore. Instead, I feel fat.
I spent most of yesterday, post run, eating. Just grazing on shite. As such, I feel podgy and like I’m carrying a sack of spuds in my midriff.
My usual virtual yoga class is not on later as it’s the Bank Holiday, so I do around 30 mins in the morning.
I then do my weighs session just before lunch and feel a tiny bit less rotund.
Being a Bank Holiday and the end of summer, it pisses down with rain most of the day. Course it does.
Tuesday 1st September – September has arrived and suddenly the Marathon is very real, despite it still being over 3 weeks away.
It’s also Race 1 of my clubs Winter Grand Prix this evening, if you wanted any more reminder that summer is over.
My plan is to do a 4 mile warm, run the 10k race at a fast but not eye balls out pace, then get a lift back.
So I’ll have hit my ten miles, with a bit of intense stuff thrown in.
I set off on my warm up run and it’s all good. Then around half a mile from the finish, an old friend appears, like the ghost of Christmas past.
My grumbling Achilles.
Last seen making a nuisance of itself in the halcyon days of 2022, it’s decided to make a guest appearance minutes before a 10k race and 3 weeks before a Marathon.
If this was a soap opera, it would be like a presumed dead spouse turning up at a wedding.
For fucks sake.
This is all I need. So far, it’s just a feeling – I’m not in pain, it’s just doing its usual grumbling. But once, in 2018, that grumbling turned into a tear where it felt like I’d be stabbed.
I was planning on ‘racing’ this tonight, but nowt daft. I did a 45 minute finish last year, and have improved on that massively since. So I’m going to aim for that again – quick but not too quick.
There isn’t much to say about this race. I stick to a 7:20 pace pretty much throughout and clock a 45:29. So, spot on with what I wanted to do.
My Achilles also feels ok. I still have ‘that’ feeling, but it never bothered me, and it isn’t bothering me now.
However, after I get home and have something to eat, I start to feel it. Again, it’s just a feeling, but it’s not right.
Not great, but not a disaster just yet. Tomorrow I’ll get myself a tube support and see how it feels. If I need to rest, I rest.
Bollocks.
Wednesday 2nd September – As predicted, my Achilles is stiff when I get up. I said Achilles, you filthy minded harlots.
It’s not painful though. It’s still just a ‘feeling’ that something isn’t quite right.
I pop to the Chemists on my break and get a tube support. I feel much better when I get it on, even if it is psychological.
Or maybe it’s the Ibuprofen I’m popping. Either way.
When I head out, it’s raining. And I mean proper pissing down. So much so, I pop on my base layer for the first time in forever. Summer is over kids.
I start to run and the leg feels ok. The only weirdness is from wearing a strap again.
I distracted by the rain as well. It really is raining hard and I’m getting soaked. This is what it’s all about – soaking wet and with a sore Achilles. Proper running.
I get round with no problems until the very last 0.10 and the Achilles starts to grumble. Just a little reminder, if needed, not to think this is all solved with strapping and drugs.
Bollocks.
Tomorrow is thresholds. That will test it. Unfortunately.
Thursday September 3rd – I was expecting to wake up with either a stiff or sore Achilles, but neither of these things happen.
It feels more comfortable than yesterday, but still not right. I did foam roll a bit last night, and plan to do that throughout the day.
Tonight is 3 x 3 miles of thresholds, 2 miles of each at threshold pace, 1 mile of each at marathon pace. So far less intense than previous weeks, but not a cake walk.
Foot strapped up, more as a comfort blanket thing than a necessity, I set out.
We’re expecting rain again, but so far it’s dry. I do the usual threshold route along the coast to Blyth, turning at the farm.
However, I stay on the main road rather than through the dunes. I want to try and avoid the up and downs. Hills aren’t great on the Achilles, so I’m playing safe.
Once I get going, the foot doesn’t bother me. The run would have actually gone perfectly, had it not pissed down with rain again on the last mile. I get soaked again.
Actually, that’s not true. I go to take an Electrolyte gel before I turn and drop it on the ground. No problem, I’ll just pick it up.
I rip the top of it off, squeeze to pop it in my mouth, and it all explodes on me from the bottom. It must have popped when I dropped it. Fucks sake.
On the plus side though, this is the last threshold session that involves miles. The last two are back to Kms. A sign that we’re nearly there.
Friday September 4th – The foot feels less Achilles now and more ankle. It feels like when you sprain your ankle but it was weeks ago, if that makes sense.
It’s hills today but I’m again going to err on the side of caution. Rather than do the hill reps on the massive ramp on the prom, I’m going to do a much gentler one in my local park, which is an old reclaimed Quarry.
Again, once I get out, the foot feels fine – even on the hills.
I’ve now done three runs on it, two of them quite intense ones, and it seems to be coping. Hopefully, it stays as a niggle and nothing else. Thoughts and prayers.
Saturday 5th September – Maranoia has set in today as look to tomorrow’s 20 mile run.
To make things worse, Newcastle are at home, so I won’t have a chance to give my foot a real rest.
It’s an early kick off and ends 2-2. Aware of what I need to do tomorrow, I curb my drinking after the match and get back for tea time.
When I get back, I note that the ankle is a little bit tender. There is no bruising or swelling, but definitely tenderness.
I have an early night and prepare myself mentally that I might not get through the 20 in the morning.
Maybe I should have stayed in the pub.
Sunday 6th September – It’s the day of judgement. Can my ankle/tendon/whatever hold up and survive 20 miles.
I’m up early and it feels ok – still no pain, swelling or bruising.
Having said that, I was awoken at around 3am by what felt like a cramp in the back of my leg that seemed to rattle right up my Achilles.
It was over quickly, but it’s not a good sign, I’ll be honest.
It’s a nice morning and it’s not raining. Summer is over and a sign of this is that I’m out just before sunrise for once.
Within the first mile, I get feel the foot. Great.
However, it soon settles down and I get into my pace and rhythm.
It’s my usual route and everything is going fine. No pain, no niggling.
At 15 miles I feel a slight pain in my calf. However, I think this is just the support digging in.
I obviously get a bit paranoid about it, but it soon passes and I complete the 20.2 miles in 2:57:03.
The weirdest thing is, not only did the foot feel fine, it feels fanfuckingtastic the rest of the day.
Somehow, I’ve got through the week. That’s the last ‘heavy’ week, now three weeks of slightly lower milage and intensity.
Hopefully, that means whatever is going on with my foot will ease as well.
“It’s like Kilroy, but with tea, Wagon Wheels and Sue Cook”
Alan Partridge, I’m Alan Partridge
Monday 24th August – Despite downing quite a few pints yesterday, I feel quite chipper today.
My voice is a bit raspy and strained from the match. It’s the price you pay for singing about Isak being a c**t for 90 minutes.
I’ve got a busy week, so there will be some slight amendments to my plan.
First off, I don’t have time for my weights at lunchtime, so I do them later on.
Before that, I do my 30 minute virtual yoga where I feel great – probably the best yoga session I’ve had in months. No creaking, flows naturally.
It’s a good start to the week. It can only go downhill from here.
Tuesday 25th August – Tonight’s club session is on the track and it looks like a killer.
It’s ‘Michigans’, which I assume is named after the college where this session was conceived, and not because after completing it you want to drown yourself in the Great Lake of the same name.
There’s a lot going on in this session. It’s one of those where you need to write it on your hand, but there are so many distances and paces to be aware of, that I don’t have a limb long enough.
Lots of people have programmed it on their watch anyway, so I’ll just follow them.
I luckily find myself in a good group and get it done. It is hard work, and the final 400m I’m complete blowing out of my arse.
It’s a long session as well. Between this and my warm up, l’m just shy of 12 miles, and I’m completely spent.
It was definitely the Lake Michigan theory.
Wednesday 26th August – Last nights epic track session is still on my legs when I get up.
Which is a problem. I have a busy day at work and Newcastle are back at home this evening.
So the only window I have for my 6 miles easy is first thing this morning. This is the way I suppose.
The thought of going down the normal Wagonway route and back doesn’t fill me with a lot of motivation if I’m honest.
So instead, I’m heading down the seafront for this one.
It’s a lovely morning for a run – dry and calm. It is starting to feel a bit like summer is over and we’re heading into Autumn.
This is far less painful than I thought it might be. Autopilot legs get me though. Other than the last half a mile where I’m going uphill, I don’t feel tired and end up enjoying it.
A pleasant plod.
Later, I head into town and watch Newcastle win 3-2. We get Millwall away in the next round. Yeah, I won’t be off there. Not without my stab vest.
Thursday 27th August – I’ve worked out – I think – that based on last year’s plan, this evening should be the Threshold peaks.
Therefore this will be the longest and hardest of the lot.
As with all of the Threshold sessions, I’m not really looking forward to it. However, it’s a necessary evil, and I need to get it done.
It’s 4 x 3 miles at Threshold Pace. So with my warm up and cool down, this will be around 14 miles long.
As such, I’m going to mix it up a little on my route. I head out on my warm up and start in the same place as usual.
However, rather than then drop down the coast, I head off down the Wagonway. It’s hard work, but I’m getting through it.
I come off the Wagonway and Holywell, through Seaton Deleval, then drop onto the coast there. This is a premeditated cheat – it’s a good mile and a half of down hill to get there.
I then nip along the coast to Blyth, before turning for home.
The last mile of the third threshold is hard work. Then the final three miles are a real grind.
However, I get them done, stop the watch, and it’s 14.56 miles in total. Phew.
That’s not the most interesting bit though. My watches flashes up with ‘New Record.’
I’ve inadvertently run my fastest Half Marathon ever – 1:42:54. Around a minute and a half off my old PB.
Whoops.
Well, I have spent the last 12 weeks saying I’ve been going far too fast on these sessions. I wasn’t lying.
I’m absolutely knackered anyway. No surprise really, when you look at my times.
Still, big one out the way, it should drop down next week, then again the week after. Then Threshold Thursday will be over.
I won’t miss them.
Friday 28th August – As predicted, physically, I’m proper knackered today.
My lunch time weights session is hard work. Really hard work.
Later on I get out for my hills session. It’s as leggy as I thought it would be.
Down the sea front it’s another quiet evening. Apart from the Bank Holiday Monday and Christmas, this is how quiet it will be from now till next summer.
The hill reps are hard. The final five especially the legs feel like they’re made of lead. I would say through the whole 12 weeks so far, this is the most tired I’ve felt on a run.
Hey, if it was easy, everyone would do it.
Saturday 29th August – I mentioned last week that I’m not going to be volunteering at Parkrun for a while. Today it’s because the fair is in town and it’s plonked right on the start and finish. So it’s off for the week.
Instead, we’re off to Beamish Museum to meet some people we got friendly with on holiday. They’re up for a wedding, so we this seemed like a good place to take them.
The only problem is, Beamish is a huge open air museum. So I end up spending far too much time on my feet and walking.
I also eat Sausage and Chips instead of Pasta.
I’ll pay for both of those things tomorrow, I’m sure.
Sunday 30th August – Today has the potential to be a disaster.
I’ve mentioned about eating badly and walking too much the day before maybe putting me at a disadvantage from the start.
But I’ve also woken up with a slightly tight right calf that just doesn’t feel right. I think (or more likely, I hope) that I got cramp in the night.
I’m not sure if I dreamt I did, or just did. But the calf being tender would actually point to the latter.
So, hopefully, that’s all it is. A calf cramp hangover. If it is a cramp hangover, can I run on it this morning?
Or, more worryingly, have I actually strained my calf slightly from walking yesterday. Can I run 20 miles on it this morning? Can I run 1 mile?
I can feel myself getting slightly stressed out by this as I eat my pre-run porridge. Which means my heart rate is up, which means I’m going to make the run even harder for myself if I don’t chill out.
When I start my run, it feels ok. In fact, I can’t feel it all. Good start.
However, I’m still paranoid about it and the worry is definitely making this first part on that coast hard going.
Slowly though, I start to focus less on it and get into my podcast. Despite it being only around 14°c and cloudy, it feels quite close and sticky.
At mile 11, I suddenly get a ping of tiredness in the legs, which in turn triggers more anxiety about the calf.
It’s all in my head though. The calf hasn’t twinged once and I know that I’m not really tired – I’ve managed to somehow psychologically sap energy from myself.
At mile 15, I take a gel and finally relax. I’m not going to injure my calf. It was just cramp soreness, I’m going to make it to the end.
This in turn takes away the tiredness from my legs, and I run the last 5 miles home comfortably. In fact, I speed up.
I complete 20.24 miles in 2:57:31. Don’t let anyone tell you that running is all in the legs and nothing to do with the mind.
Today’s run was ALL about the mind.
When I was feeling stressed and negative, it was hard work. When I chilled out, it was comfortable.
I also feel positive that this is 20 miles in crap circumstances – terrible prep the day before, anxious on the day of the run. Yet I still got through 20 miles.
4 weeks to go now, just this last ‘hard’ week to get out the way.
“I will quote from the last words of Cleopatra to Mark Antony: if you liked it, tell your friends.”
Lurcio, Up Pompei
Monday 17th August – I’ve woken up with what feels like the beginning of a cold.
I’m not sure whether to be happy or annoyed.
Annoyed that I’m getting a cold. No one likes a cold. Whilst I’m not one of those man-flu blokes, I hate having colds. You know you’re not going to be really ill and it will go, but you also know you’re going to have a few days of snot and feeling a bit crap.
However, I’m also slightly pleased that my summer cold looks like it’s come early. I usually get it in September. If this is it and I’m getting it out the way now, then I’m happy with that.
Anyway, I feel a bit shite.
It’s my first day back at work but there isn’t anything pressing to do. I catch up on the several hundred emails and Teams messages I’ve missed, and deal with anything that’s quick and easy.
I mentioned in last weeks blog that my legs were a tired after my long run. 24 hours later, my quads are a bit sore. I’m convinced that I definitely did too much on the Saturday and am paying for it a bit now.
I get me weights session done over lunch time, then my usual virtual yoga in the evening. Whilst I enjoyed my holiday, I do like being back into my usual routine. It’s my safe space.
Tuesday 18th August – The cold has now fully arrived and whilst not that heavy, my eyes are feeling it and the snot level is quite high.
Thankfully, work is quiet. It’s that time of year, the summer holidays, so things tend to be on hold, and people tend to be off. It’s usually the calm before the storm. I embrace these moments.
It’s club session night. The weather has its sensible head on at the moment, but my warm up is a bit of a slog. My legs still have a tiny bit of soreness in them, plus my energy levels feel a bit meh with having a cold.
Tonight is a session down the sea front, which I feel I haven’t done in ages. It’s 14 minutes Threshold pace going out, turn and do 4 minutes easy, then 10 minutes Threshold back.
As always, we go far too fast. However, it takes me mind off the cold and I feel better for doing it.
I get back, have a shower, eat my tea, then hit a massive wall. Like all the energy has been sucked from me. I get an early night, hoping that I can sleep whatever I have off and feeling right as rain in the morning.
Wednesday 19th August – I wake up with peak cold.
I’m full of snot, my eyes are heavy despite a good night’s sleep, and I can’t be arsed.
Its easy 6 miles this evening. A check of the weather reveals that we’re under a severe thunderstorm warning from 7pm to 10am tomorrow.
I head out about 6:30pm and it looks gloomy. It then starts to pour down. I can’t remember the last time I ran in the rain. It feels like months. I think it probably was.
If I didn’t have this stinking cold, I’d be whooping for joy at this stage. However, I really can’t be arsed and this whole run is a massive effort.
The only good thing about the weather is that this is the quietest the Wagonway has been in months. I pretty much have it to myself. Unfortunately, I can’t even be arsed to enjoy that either.
It’s another case of shower, tea, and early night.
Thursday 20th August – Thankfully, I wake up feeling a bit better today. I’m far less snotty, and my eyes feel much better.
I’m still not 100%, but I’m confident that I’m passed peak cold and on the up. Which is just as well, as it’s Thresholds day and it’s a stinker – 1 x 2 miles, 2 x 3 miles.
Weather wise, it’s a weird day. We didn’t get the thunderstorms, but it rained heavily overnight. In the morning, it’s dark, raining, and windy. It looks more like October than August.
That eventually clears, but there is a cool and quite brisk northerly wind in the air. So I expect it to be hard out, but on my back for the final bit.
It’s probably the coolest I’ve felt on a run in a long time. That head wind is as manky as I thought it would be. By the time I start my last 3 miler I’m fed up of it and can’t wait to turn. It feels like the farmhouse takes forever to get to, even though I can see it well in advance.
It’s blessed relief when I eventually turn. The wind behind me really helps.
Despite the head wind for most of it, and also feeling a bit under the weather, I complete these in quite a fast pace. In fact, too fast if I’ve honest.
When I finish at the Spanish City, the change in the weather is noticeable. I’m actually cold. No sitting cooling down on the grass tonight. There’s also no-one around. This place has been packed at this time all Summer. Tonight though, not a soul. It’s also noticeable getting darker. Winter is coming.
Friday 21st August – Today I’m tired. I went far too fast last night on the Thresholds, and the legs are feeling it.
I also just can’t shake this bastard cold. I feel like I’m in the hangover phase of the cold, which can sometimes be just as bad as the peak.
That wind is still kicking about as well.
I do my weights at lunchtime, where the quads are still feeling it, then it’s off out later for the hills session.
I very rarely say this, but when it is time to go out, I proper can’t be arsed.
My legs have felt even more tired as the day has gone on, and this fucking cold will just not shift.
I actually feel cold when I go out. I can’t remember the last time that’s happened.
I head off down to the sea front and it’s amazing just how much a bit of meh weather chases off everyone. It’s dead down here, yet again.
It’s a struggle, but it’s done. I’m ready for a rest now and I’m thankful I don’t have to run tomorrow.
Again, when was the last time I thought that?
Saturday 22nd August – Unlike last week, I really won’t be overdoing it on my rest day.
Other than volunteering at Parkrun, the only other thing I’m doing today is visiting friends, which I’ll be driving to and then sitting on my arse once there.
Tomorrow’s big run is back up to 21 miles. I’ve felt shite and tired all week, so I really am taking it easier today.
I realised that, for various reasons, this will probably my last Parkrun volunteering before the Marathon.
I’m back on Tokens today, but this time handing them out. I manage not to drop them, and say ‘well done’ 600 times.
It’s been a nice experience helping out, and I’m sure I’ll do it again. I won’t just be fair weather either. I’ll do a couple in the depths of winter freezing my nuts off. It’s only fair.
Sunday 23rd August – The heatwave is well and truly over and it’s a perfect morning for a long run.
It’s 7°c when I set out, which is around 20°c cooler than two weeks ago, when I sweated my way round Menorca. That’s nuts.
We do still have a little bit of wind, but it’s died down a lot and feels a bit more westerly, which suits me.
So, 21 miles. The second longest run I’ll need to complete in the 16 weeks. I’ve worked out that I’ve now successfully run over 20 miles 8 times in the last year.
Before that, the thought of it would make me mildly queasy.
Today though it’s just another long run with a podcast.
I head down to the sea front and follow the coast all the way South to Tynemouth. It’s amazing how a change in the weather (ie not sunny) makes it much quieter down here.
Once I’m at Tynemouth then it’s my usual route inland, heading west, till I hit the fringes of the city and then turn.
The legs feel much better than last week. Taking it easier on the Saturday has definitely made a difference. Lesson learnt.
I end up completing 21.27 miles in 3:06:36. Around where I want my pace to be, a bit too fast if anything.
A well earned breakfast demolished, I then head off into town.
Because football is back. Oh joy! I’m a Newcastle fan, so every August tends to be 10 minutes of hope followed by 9 months of abject disappointment.
Anyway, we draw 2-2, and I drink far too much Guinness. It is full of iron. Probably.
Mood: Optimistic. Followed immediately by disappointment. Told you.
Monday 10th August – It’s my final full day in Menorca before flying home tomorrow morning.
As it’s Monday, I could just sit back and do nowt today. But what would be the fun in that?
Instead, I’ve decided to get out for one last bonus run. A no pressure, nice and slow 5k.
True to form for the week, it’s hot and humid, another 27c pre-sunrise. I’m up on the flat top road as usual, but when I get to the point where I usually turn, I take a left down towards the sea.
I stay on this bottom road for around half a mile, then head back to the start. I was hoping this last one would be a lot easier – shortest one since I’ve been out here, finally acclimatised to the heat.
But no. It’s hard work, and you can’t take the northern lad out of the north and plonk him onto a Mediterranean island at the height of summer and expect running miracles.
Last run done, I have a chilled final day of my holiday, relaxing by the pool with several ice cold Estrellas. Lovely.
Tuesday 11th August – The worst part of any holiday, by a huge margin, is travelling home.
It’s awful isn’t it? At least when you travel out, you have the excitement of going on holiday and the knowledge that your final destination is going to be great.
Travelling back, all you want to do is be back home. The bus and the flights and the taxi are just the massive ball ache in-between.
Having said that, our return home goes by without incident. We’re slightly delayed on the tarmac in Menorca there’s a bit of a traffic jam in the skies over Europe, but I’m back in our house before 2pm.
Therefore, I’m back in plenty of time to attend the Club Session that evening. I head out at 6pm to get my warm up in and it’s BLISS. It’s around 20c (we’ve come back to a heat wave) but the difference in the heat and the air from Menorca is like night and day.
It’s the most comfortable run I’ve done in 12 days.
Tonight is a track session, so I get in my 5 mile warm up and finish at the club house. Lots of pre-session chatter revolves around the weather and how hot it is. Usually I would agree, but I’ve just spent the week running in an oven, so I just smile and nod.
The track session begins and there’s no hiding. A quick 1km, followed by 8 lots of 300m, before finishing off with another 1km. I kick away at the end of the final 1km and feel great.
No holiday hangover. I finish off with a few recovery jogs to hit my 10 mile for the evening.
It’s like I’ve never been away.
Wednesday 12th August – I’m off work the rest of the week, so have a bit more time on my hands.
I’m still not going to get out for my easy 6 till the evening though. I am however going to do a Weights session at lunch time.
Whilst I got my Yoga in last week, it wasn’t logistically possible to do any weights. Not unless you count me picking up pints. So this is the first one in a while.
It’s warm today, so it is a bit of a slog, and I probably don’t do this at the effort I usually do.
Later on, I head out for my run down the wagonway. I get out a little earlier than usual – not just because I have more time, but also because the UK is due to have a partial eclipse this evening.
It’s warm, but again it’s heaven compared to last week.
I get back for the partial eclipse…whereby a big cloud sticks itself in front of it.
Such is life.
Thursday 13th August – The one session I escaped last week was the Thresholds.
I’ve called myself a masochist many times on this blog, but I wasn’t bonkers enough to start sprinting around in the heat of the Med.
We are now in yet another UK heatwave, and it’s 26c this evening. However, the difference between the 26c here and the Menorcan one is huge. The air is just so much fresher back here. I can actually breathe.
If I want a test to see if I’ve lost any fitness, then this is it. 4 x 2 miles at Threshold pace. Oof.
Thankfully, I don’t have to think too hard or plan for the route. I know that if I head out North on the coast, turn at the farm on the dunes, then head back, I’ll finish at the Spanish City having got in all the Thresholds and recoveries.
It’s warm as I set off, but cloudy, which is helpful. The pesky sun always makes things that little bit harder. However, I find the heat doesn’t affect me at all. I may have found a positive from running in that oven in Menorca – in that the heat here now affects me far less.
I reckon had I done this run 2 weeks ago, I’d be blowing out my backside and the heat would be getting to me. Not tonight though.
Whilst this is hard going (this is a threshold session, after all) I’m not being affected by the heat at all. It feels like it could be 16c rather than 26c.
I get them done and have a sit on the links for 5 minutes. I say it every week, but this is the most satisfying session of the week. Hard work, but important. I know from others training for a Marathon that this is the one that people tend to skip if they’re not feeling it. I’m just happy to get another one in the bank.
Friday 14th August – As per usual on a Friday, my legs are a bit heavy today. So again, despite being off work, I’m going to rest as long as possible then do my session in the evening.
I do complete my Weights Session as normal at lunch time. It’s a little easier than Wednesday, but I feel back in the swing of it after taking the week off.
It’s the last day of the mini ‘heat wave’ and I head out for my easy 4 with hill reps.
It’s good to be back on the prom ramp that I usually do these, but I had forgotten just how tough this is. When I look at last week, I think I probably sand bagged the two hill sessions and didn’t do much of a hill on either occasion. I was hot and jut anted to survive to be honest.
Hills done, I’m now well back in the swing of things and it’s like I’ve never been away.
Saturday 15th August – Today is a rest day, but I end up doing very little of that.
First up, it’s Parkrun. I’m back volunteering and they’ve put me on Token Support. Sounds easy enough.
Until I get there and they hand me a giant tied shoelace of 700 Parkrun tokens. My job is to hand small batches of these to the two volunteers giving these out to runners. And not to drop them.
The not to drop them part is key. And also comes with pressure, as I’m clumsy as hell.
We’ve also got the added stress of trying a double funnel for the first time ever. Whitley Bay Parkrun is fairly popular now. On a bad day you’ll still get 500+ turn out. For the one Great North Run weekend, they hit nearly a thousand.
So we’re trying the double funnel.
I’m happy to report that all goes well. The funnel works, I don’t drop the tokens. Everyone is happy. Phew.
In the afternoon I pop to watch North Shields FC at home. It’s a lovely day, pleasant without being too warm, so I get off the Metro at Tynemouth and walk there.
Shields get beat 2-0, then I decide it’s such a nice afternoon, and I’m feeling so good, I’ll walk back home.
This seems like a good idea at the time..
Sunday 16th August – It’s the return of the long run. It’s been 2 and a bit weeks since I last went long. That was 22 miles however, and it went well.
Today, it’s just the 18 miles.
I’m going back to my tried and tested route, along a bit of the coast, inland heading towards the city, then turn and back via the Wagonways.
It’s perfect running conditions. 12c and cloudy, no wind. Beautiful.
I set my pace, hit it, and get the 18 done. However, it’s leggy and slightly harder work than usual. I think I’m paying for yesterday. I was on my feet far too much, the big walk I did in the afternoon especially was probably a bad idea.
Despite stretching straight after, my legs feel heavy and tired the rest of the day. Lesson learnt. Don’t overdo it the day before.
In the evening I’m back as guest on the Snot Rocket Podcast. We have a massive laugh recording, and it’s a great way to finish off my time off from work.
I note that today is also exactly 6 weeks to the Marathon.Time flies when you’re allegedly having fun.
Monday 3rd August – It’s day 3 in Minorca and I’d love to report that I’m ‘acclimatising’.
But I’m not. I’m melting.
Faced with a week of 30°c + temperatures, my club coach has sent through a slightly revised plan – with the main message being treat this week almost as a recovery plod.
I know two things for certain having run yesterday. I’m not going to be able to do anything fast or far.
So the fast stuff on the Tuesday and the Thresholds on the Thursday are out.
The weekend long run is also not going to be anywhere near the 18 miles it should be. Instead, I’ve been advised to try to get in a 9-10 miler.
Today is Monday, which usually means strength and conditioning. As sad as I am when it comes to my training, I neglected to pack my weights.
Instead, I’m going to – shock, horror – go for a run.
Today, it’s a 5 miler. My logic is to do 5 today and 5 tomorrow – so I’ll have hit my usual 10 by the end of Tuesday.
I never said this logic had any kind of logic behind it.
I’m going to go back onto the top, flat road I’ve discovered, but then go a little bit further out. Around a mile further out, then turn back round.
It’s another warm morning. This will be the theme for the week.
I get to the end of the flat road, where there is a roundabout, and just keep going. I’ve sort of got an idea of what’s beyond here. By the look of Google Maps, lots of residential villas.
It’s very up and down however, and the ups are hard work. I love a hill usually, but not in this heat.
I decide I’ve gone far enough and turn back, redoing the ups and downs, and feeling even more knackered.
I get back on the flat road, then drop and finish by the beach.
I’m sweating buckets. I literally look like I was dropped into the sea.
This is going to be a tough week.
Ball of heat
Tuesday 4th August – I’m back up early, and it’s another hot, humid, glorious Mediterranean morning.
Despite this heat and humidity, I’m not going to complain.
I’ve come to the beautiful island of Menorca (or Minorca if you’re a local) in August because, well, it’s usually hot and sunny in August.
I’m therefore not going to play the “ooo… it’s too hot for me” card. It’s a first-world problem. The island is as fantastic as I remember it, our accommodation is fantastic, and we’re all chilled and fully entrenched in holiday mode.
After the first two days of running, I have now made peace with the fact it’s going to be hot and hard work. I can whinge about it, or I can just crack on.
So, let’s crack on.
This morning’s aim is to get in another five miles. I hop back onto the top, flat road and head off in the same direction as yesterday. The idea today is to go just a little bit further along.
I already know that once I get to the end of the flat stuff, it’s very much up and down. Past that, I’m not too sure. I’m guessing more up and down. I promised not to whinge.
After I reach the roundabout where I turned yesterday, I take a left down onto the seafront. I was hoping for a bit of a coastal breeze down here, but nope. It’s just as humid.
I follow this road along the coast until I hit a roundabout at two-and-a-bit miles, and then I turn. Just like yesterday, the turn takes me back east and into the ever-rising sun, and the temperature seems to notch up that little bit more.
I’m feeling the ups and downs, but my pace is quite good. I’m hitting around 8:40-mile pace. However, my heart rate is high, the kind of rate I’d expect if I was flat out in a 5K. I can only assume this is my body’s protest against the heat.
I’m wearing my grey Adidas running vest, which is snugger than my Puma one, and I think this is part of the problem. I feel much hotter in it than the other one, and it’s drenched in sweat, which makes it feel much heavier to wear.
I said from the start I wouldn’t do anything daft, so I slow down and start to take it easy. It’s at this point that I notice I don’t recognise where I am. I’ve missed my turn back to the top road. Whoops.
However, I notice a left turn that has a bit of a climb to it, so this must take me back. Halfway up it, I recognise it as the road I did my hill repeats on that first morning.
This final hill to get back onto the flat road feels like it drains about 75% of my energy.
I plod to the end of the road, drop down onto the beachfront as I did yesterday, and finish there. Getting lost and taking a bit of a detour adds some extra distance, so I end up clocking 5.64 miles.
That was hard.
I instantly make two decisions off the back of it. Firstly, I’m going to abandon wearing this Adidas top. It’s great to run in back home, but it’s dead weight in this heat. Secondly, I’m going to slow it right down for the rest of the week.
Adapt to the conditions and all that shite.
Wednesday 5th August – It’s an easy six today. Longer than I’ve run so far this week, but only a tiny bit longer than yesterday, so it doesn’t bother me.
But yes, it’s another hot one.
My Garmin app has claimed it’s been around 26 to 27°C when I’ve been setting off this week, and that’s before the sun comes out. I don’t really think it’s the temperature that’s bothering me too much, it’s the humidity. The air feels heavy, and that’s the difference.
Today I’m going to head out to where I went yesterday but kick on a little further. Go 5K and turn, basically. I’m also going out slower. None of this 8:40 pace nonsense. It’s nine-minute miles all the way now.
Getting lost yesterday has helped a little, in that I’ve discovered I can drop down onto the seafront earlier than I have been, so I do.
Slowing it down does feel more comfortable, and my heart rate is nowhere near as high as yesterday. So far, so good.
When I get to yesterday’s roundabout, I head left and this takes me into the next resort.
The paths narrow, so I run on the road, but it’s so quiet traffic-wise here (I think I’ve seen four cars this morning) that it doesn’t worry me. Plus, these are roads where you couldn’t go fast, even if you wanted to.
It’s very up and down, though. So even though it’s far more scenic than just running along that top road, it’s definitely harder.
As soon as I hit three miles, I turn back and, like previous days, run straight into the rising sun.
I really start to feel it more on the way back. Every hill is energy-sapping, and the sun has made it feel much hotter than when I set off.
I manage to battle through and finish beachside again for six miles.
It was much more comfortable slowing the pace down and wearing my baggier top, but I’m finding those ups and downs energy-sapping.
So, another executive decision. From tomorrow, I’m just sticking to that top road. Yes, it might be boring, but it’s not about the scenery at this point. It’s about getting it done.
Warmer than it looks
Thursday 6th August – Hey, guess what?
That’s right, it’s hot.
Today should have been Threshold Day. And they were stinkers: 3 x 2 miles at threshold pace. Absolutely no chance.
Instead, I’ve been advised to do another easy six.
No arguing from me.
As decided yesterday, all of it is going to be on the top road.
So, back and forwards I go six times.
Interestingly, I’ve been surprised by how many other runners I’ve seen this week, especially on this top road. It seems everyone has the same idea: get out early and stick to the flat stuff.
Today I pass a blatantly local Spanish lady a couple of times who looks like she runs marathons for breakfast in this heat. She’s built like a runner and is going far faster than me.
It’s all about what you’re used to, I suppose. I imagine if I plonked her in my hometown she’d be absolutely fucking freezing and would struggle. She’d still be faster than me, but I like to think she’d be feeling the cold the way I’m feeling the heat.
Anyway, six done, again at a slower pace. Job’s a good ‘un.
The Med
Friday 7th August – It’s another easy four with hills today.
It’s the usual drill: up early, stick to the top road.
I’m not going to do the hill I did on the first day here, however. I mean, there are plenty to pick from.
Instead, I choose one that heads down to the beach where I usually finish.
I’d love to say that I’m starting to acclimatise to the heat, but I’d be lying.
I’m just a shadowof myself
Saturday 8th August – So, on my original plan for this week, I should be doing a 22-mile long run this weekend.
But I knew there was no way in any universe, parallel or otherwise, that was going to happen out here. So instead, I did that 22-miler the day before I came out here.
What a smart cookie.
The weekend I did 22, I should have done “just” 18. So that’s the plan this weekend.
Except I’m also not bonkers enough to try and run anywhere near 18 miles in this climate.
So instead, I’ve hatched a cunning plan to run it over two days: two sets of nine milers.
This plan relies on a couple of things.
Firstly, it’s obvious that I’m going to need to get up earlier for these two runs. I need to try and get as much of it done as possible before the sun comes out and starts to fry me.
Secondly, I’m going to need to stay even more hydrated. This bit I’m prepared for. That’s right, I packed both electrolyte and isotonic gels to bring out with me, and I’m going to need them.
Unfortunately, I balls up the first part of this. I sleep in.
Not by a ton. I’m actually up at the same time as the previous runs, but I wanted to be up earlier.
This pisses me off.
I know I’ve just made hard work for myself, and I also feel like I’m rushing to get out there, as though every second counts in trying to beat the sunrise.
Therefore, this run is a bit of a disaster from the start. Rather than going out slow and steady, I’m pushing far too hard early on in an attempt to catch up.
All this results in is me punching myself out early doors.
By the five-mile mark, I’m really feeling it. Even taking on the extra fluids via the gels hasn’t helped.
I’m really going to struggle to get to nine here.
Taking my own advice about not doing anything stupid, I decide to call it a day at mile seven.
I’m slightly annoyed with myself, but also not that bothered.
No one died. I’m not injured. I haven’t stupidly run myself into dehydration or done anything else idiotic.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
If I do hit nine tomorrow, it’s still an achievement, and it will mean I’ve sort of managed a 16-mile weekend, so all is not lost.
BALL OF HEAT!
Sunday 9th August – It’s nine-miler attempt number two.
Unlike yesterday, I’m up earlier and have got my shit together.
It definitely feels darker when I head out. This is the earliest I’ve been out all week.
It’s no cooler, though. Still a rather humid 27°C.
I get going at the slightly slower pace and instantly feel better than yesterday’s effort. My head knows I don’t need to rush this, so my body is following suit.
Up and down the flat mile-long road I go. I manage to get four and a half miles in before the sun comes up.
This is still hard work, but I’m confident that I’m going to get the nine miles I’m aiming for.
I pass fewer runners than usual, what with being out so early (and perhaps because it’s a Sunday), but I do see the machine-like Spanish lady from earlier in the week.
We pass each other a few times this morning, and on about the fourth pass she gives me a big thumbs up.
I take this as a massive compliment. She’s probably used to pasty-arsed British tourists attempting to run in these conditions and giving up, but having passed me a few times, she knows I’m not messing about.
This gives me a huge confidence boost, and I complete the nine miles, finishing once again down on the beachfront.
After yesterday’s mild disaster, I’m delighted with this.
Not the most exciting run or route in the world, but job done.
I’ve done it.
I’ve got through a week of marathon training in some pretty oppressive heat and humidity, while still clocking over 40 miles for the week.
I fly home early on Tuesday, so technically this could be my final run out here if I wanted it to be.
However, I’ve decided that tomorrow, on my last full day, I’m going to get out for a no-pressure, slow 5K.
As much as I’ve enjoyed my holiday, I wouldn’t recommend going on one bang in the middle of marathon training.
“The respectful goat doesn’t fart in front of the chief”
Michael, Desmond’s
Monday 27th July – It’s the start of a slightly modified week of marathon training. In fact, the next two weeks are going to go slightly off plan. I’m away on a family holiday to Minorca early on Saturday morning. That’s great, and I’m really looking forward to it. However, the weather is forecast to be a constant 34°C, and the beer cold. It could get rough.
Let’s worry about that next week, though.
It does leave me with one slight predicament: what to do about this week’s long run on Sunday. Eighteen miles in the heat on my second day there? No thanks. Therefore, I’ve taken Friday off work to get this in, which means rejigging the week slightly.
So, today I’m doing what should be my Wednesday recovery run (thankfully, for one week only, cut down from six miles to four). Tomorrow will be the normal club session, Wednesday will be thresholds, rest on Thursday, and the long run on Friday. Then, on Sunday morning, instead of going big, I’ll do my four miles easy with hill reps.
Confused? You will be.
After my epic 20 yesterday, I feel surprisingly great today. No niggles, no real tiredness. I get my weights session and my four mile easy run done with no problems at all. Too easy. I can’t help feeling that impending doom is only around the corner.
Tuesday 28th July – It’s been one of those days where the heat has got to me. It’s only in the low 20s, but the air is warm, dry, and a bit draining. I woke up with a headache as well, which sits there all day as a dull ache despite taking painkillers.
It’s a track session tonight and, even though I’ve read it half a dozen times, I have no idea what we’re doing. Something to do with running flat out for seven minutes on the track, then five minutes slow on the field next to it, then back to three minutes on the track, or something. I’m sure it’ll make sense on the night.
I do a five mile warm-up, and the legs feel a little tired.
The track session ends up being great. I stick with someone far smarter than me who seems to know what’s going on, and we get it done. I quite enjoy it, actually. Maybe because it’s something a bit different that we haven’t done before, and maybe because it also seems to pass quickly.
Wednesday 29th July – Wednesdays are the new Thursdays, just for one week.
Mercifully, they’re also not that intense tonight. The session has dropped down to 4 x 2 miles, all at marathon pace, with no threshold pace involved. So that’s a couple of miles less to run, and slower.
Lovely.
The legs are still a bit tired, but this ends up being quite an enjoyable run. It’s a lovely evening: warm without being too warm, overcast, with a small breeze coming from the west, so it’s never in my face.
Once I run myself into it, I feel good. I’ve reached a stage where I can run through the tiredness, but I’m never knackered or close to exhaustion. I finish on the seafront, take in the breeze, and still can’t help but think that impending doom is about to turn up.
Thursday 30th July – As I’m running long tomorrow, this is my rest day. The only thing I do is my weights session at lunchtime.
My plan has my long run down as 18 miles this week. Next Sunday, when I’m in Menorca, I’m supposed to do 22. It’s actually the peak distance in the entire plan.
Let’s be honest, that isn’t going to happen.
Therefore, I make a rather bold decision: I’m going to do the 22 tomorrow. I’ll need to do it at some point, and I’d rather just get it done a week early. As I’ve said, next week is a complete unknown in terms of what I can and can’t get done.
Fuck it.
Let’s just do it.
Friday 31st July – I’m up early and the weather is looking like it’s going to do me a favour for the second Sunday in a row.
No rain this time, but a perfect 9°c and dull when I set off, with no noticeable wind. As this is a week day morning, I’m going to be doing a completely different route than the usual.
Bizarrely, my 22 miler last year was also done on a Friday rather than the weekend, that time caused by Newcastle’s Cup Final and me being in London getting absolutely rat arsed
So I’m just going to do that one again.
It’s actually a slightly tougher route as well. Quite a bit of climb on it, especially in the early part.
The first 3 and a half mile is pretty much all climb. I keep my Marathon pace though, before dropping back down towards the coast at around mile 4.
From here, I’m going to head along to Tynemouth (which I hit at around 8 and a half miles) before heading all the way along the coast to Blyth – approx another 8 miles – then turning for 5 miles to the finish.
A nice, safe, quiet, no roads to cross tried and tested many times coastal bit of miles.
I’m going to keep this short and sweet – this goes perfectly. I keep Marathon pace (in fact, I go faster than it), fuel consistently, never hitting any kind of wall or real tiredness.
When I finish, the legs are a bit tired, but I’m not knackered.
In fact, I so unknackered, I even have enough energy to drop our cases off and check them in at the airport to save us having to do it at 3am.
Saturday 1st August – We’re all up early for a 3am departure to the Airport.
Sportingly, my sister in law has agreed to drop us off.
I’m not sure about you dear reader, but I hate travelling. It’s a pain in the arse, but a necessary evil of you want to go somewhere nice.
However, despite our worst fears, I have probably the most stress free air travel experiences ever.
Bags already checked in, we sail through Security, the flight is on time, we get through Passport control in Minorca quickly, and we’re at our accommodation, cold pint in hand, by lunch time.
I bet it’s a fucking nightmare on the way back.
Sunday 2nd August – It’s the first morning in Minorca and I’m up early.
We have amazing air con in our apartment. So good, that it’s fucking freezing when I get up.
Hey, maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all? I open the patio door, step outside, and…it feels like I’ve stepped into an oven.
Fuck me.
It’s 6:30am and it’s 26°c.
And the sun hasn’t even come out yet.
Fuck me.
Don’t worry though, I got this. Thanks to Google Maps and having far too much time on my hands, I’ve found a flat (ish) safe long road right next to our apartments.
In fact, it’s exactly a mile end to end.
My recce also told me there are quite a few hills and ups and downs in the resort. Nothing that would bother me too much at home, but in this heat? Proper energy suckers.
So the long road it is.
I get going, and within the first few minutes I know that the week ahead is definitely not going to be following the plan.
The air is hot, thick, and energy sapping.
It’s going to be difficult to do any kind of intense fast stuff in this, and the thought of going ‘long’ just seems nigh on impossible.
Today is just about getting in 4 miles with hill reps. On the plus side, the road is looking promising. It is flat, maybe a slight climb at either end of it, and it’s wide and safe from traffic. Having said that, what traffic?
I’m on a quiet resort on a quiet island. I see about half a dozen cars all morning.
I’m doing my usual pace for this but it’s hard work. I think that this will have to drop a fair bit if I want to survive the week.
I do feel quite good though. I get the hill reps done, head back along the road, then drop down to the beach front for the finish.
Phew.
When I finish, I’m very hot. The sun has come out now and it makes it feel much hotter than when I first came out.
First run survived, it’s going to be an interesting week of running.
I am tired today. Real can’t-be-arsed tiredness, both physically and mentally. Legs heavy, brain foggy. I felt it coming on yesterday evening. I even got a decent night’s sleep as well.
I’m feeling so leggy that I’m not looking forward to the lunchtime weights session. However, once I start, I get somewhat of a second wind. It’s not that bad, and I seem to fly through it.
After lunch, though, another dip.
Then news comes in that Kevin Keegan has died. To all of us in this part of the world, it’s like the Pope has died. I feel very sad, although I can’t help thinking that part of that may be because he’s someone from my past who reminds me of my dad. It’s like re-grief, or something.
Doing my yoga cheers me up a little. There’s nothing like a bit of routine to help you get through any trauma. By the end of the day, though, I really am spent and flat.
Tuesday 21st July
I feel less tired today and really get stuck into work. I was massively unproductive yesterday and, as someone who works fully remotely, I feel a lot of guilt if I don’t think I’ve put in a proper shift.
The day flies by and then it’s time for the club session. For the first time in what seems like ages, we’re doing a session on the “Field of Dreams”. That sounds quite exciting, but it’s basically a local sports field that everyone has named ironically, as most people hate any training we do here.
It’s just over a kilometre in circumference, and whatever kind of session we do here always involves going round and round and round it. We come here during the summer as the coast can get quite busy and we end up pissing people off.
I personally have a love-hate relationship with it. Sessions here are tough, but I’m convinced that the monotony of lapping the field is inadvertently helping with our mental strength. Or it’s punishment.
I do a five-mile warm-up on the way there and the legs are still a bit, well, leggy. It’s a lovely summer evening: warm but not too warm, with a bit of a cooling breeze in the air.
We’re doing “Mystery Fartleks”. The idea is that we’ll run as a group and a different person will take the lead and push the pace. They can push it for as long as they want, anywhere between 30 seconds and six minutes, the idea being that they don’t tell the rest of the group. That’s the mystery bit.
When someone is done, we jog easy for a minute, then the next person takes over. We do that for 30 minutes.
This session is always tough. There’s something uncomfortable about trying to keep up when you don’t know when you’re going to stop.
Having said that, when you’re the leader and in control, it’s suddenly really easy.
When I lead, I have no idea of time, so I tend to pick a tree or a corner in the distance that I know will be around a couple of minutes away.
One of the group does the full six minutes.
Fuck my life.
Although it does eat into our 30 minutes, so fair play.
I’m knackered at the end, but I know it’s one of those sessions that’s done me the world of good. Fartleks and thresholds are hard work, but good work.
That’s what I’ll keep telling myself anyway.
Wednesday 22nd July
I get one of the best night’s sleeps I’ve had in a while. I put this down to a couple of reasons, mainly that our cat stayed out all night and didn’t wake us up.
He’s a sociopath, our cat.
But he doesn’t wander in until 7am today, which means I get a respite from waking up in the dead of night to find him sitting on my head.
Newcastle have set up a shrine for Keegan at the ground, so I’ve decided to go there straight after work and leave one of my old scarves. I can then incorporate my six easy miles on the way back, probably getting off the Metro early and running home.
It’s a sombre but respectful mood at the ground. There is quite a crowd, a real mix of young and old, men and women.
There are all sorts of tributes, mostly shirts, scarves and flowers. Although I do give a wry chuckle to the box of Special K someone has left.
I tie my scarf to one of the railings on the stairs, then pop in to sign the book of condolence. I’ve no idea what to write, so I just put:
“Thanks for the memories. Always our Number 7.”
Wanky guff, but I was put on the spot.
I take the opportunity to visit my dad. Well, a memorial stone we had placed in front of the Milburn Stand after he died. I give it a quick wipe, tell him I’m alright, then head back off to the Metro.
Re-grief, I told you.
I’ve figured out that if I get off at Palmersville Station, that’ll be around six-ish miles back home. The first mile involves climbing a fairly steep hill, but it takes me to a bridge over the A19 rather than the flatter route, which would involve negotiating a very busy roundabout.
The death of Keegan and thoughts of my dad have really triggered the nostalgia in me this evening.
The hill I’ve climbed takes me into Killingworth Village, and from here the view reveals a lot of ghosts from my past.
In the distance I can see the remains of Fenwick Pit, where my grandfathers and great-uncles sweated out a hard living. I can see Shiremoor, where my dad and a lot of my mam’s family originally came from. I can see the sea and the Cheviots on the horizon.
All that’s missing is some Elgar.
I cut through the Lonnen and the fields next to where I grew up. I used to play with my mates around here as a kid, and the nostalgia is now completely overwhelming.
I’m not really a crier, thankfully, or I’d be in trouble at this point.
By the time I get back home, I notice I’ve overshot by about a mile. Seven instead of six.
It’s been a strange evening and a strange run. But rather than ending it sad, I feel happy.
Proud of where I’ve come from. Proud of all those before me who grafted to give me the opportunities I have today.
I’m going to Poland to run a marathon.
My grandad would have thought I was going to the Moon.
Thursday 23rd July
After the emotional rollercoaster that was Wednesday, we’re hit with the reality of Threshold Thursday.
This is a repeat of last week: five times two miles, except it’s going to be warmer.
I also feel drained today. I’m not sure whether it’s physically drained or emotionally drained, but the legs are heavy.
I spend the day getting as much energy into me as possible before heading out the door at about six-ish.
I do the same route as last time: warm up to the local estate for the start of the first rep, then head down to the seafront.
The paces are also the same as last week. First mile at a fast threshold pace, second mile at slower marathon pace. Each is followed by a two-minute recovery, which can either be static or a slow jog.
I always choose the jog, as I’m crap at starting fast again after coming to a complete standstill. I’d much rather keep moving.
I’m heading further north up the coast than last week, and it’s warm.
I complete rep three as I hit Blyth Battery and turn back south, whereupon I’m immediately blasted with a headwind.
Where the hell did that come from?
As with any headwind, it makes things hard work. In fact, for the first time in the seven weeks so far, I’m feeling tired.
Not to the point where I want or need to stop. More that I just want the session to be over.
I battle through the fourth rep before a surprising second wind appears from nowhere during the fifth and final one.
I finish tired and have to lie down on the grass for a bit.
This has probably been the hardest session of the plan so far, but it’s done. It’s one of those sessions we’re supposed to bottle and remember if we ever need to dig deep later on.
Friday 24th July
Today I feel exactly as I thought I might: heavy-legged. I would have been shocked if I’d felt any other way, to be honest. My lunchtime weights session is a bit of a slog, but it gets done.
I head out in the evening for my four easy miles and hill reps, and the legs really are feeling it now. Even before I reach the ramp where I’ll be doing the reps, I hit a very slight incline and feel like I’m struggling to get up it. That’s not a great sign.
Expecting the worst and hoping for the best, I get to the ramp and start the reps. They actually goOK. It seems to pass quickly, and the legs find something to get me through. This is what marathon training is all about though: pushing through on tired legs.
Saturday 25th July
It’s rest day, which also means parkrun volunteering day. I’m back on funnel duty, and the weather is much warmer than last week, although unseasonably windy. And when I say windy, I mean windy.
At one point, my hat flies off, and only a wall stops it from meeting a watery grave or being carried off on the current to Denmark.
Unlike last week, this one passes without incident. We have around 100 fewer finishers this week as well, which helps. I’m starting to get the hang of this funnel stuff now. I think I’ve perfected the tone needed to get runners to hurry through the funnel whilst simultaneously praising them for a job well done.
Aware that tomorrow is a 20-miler, I do as little as possible for the rest of the day. I sort out a bit of gardening, pruning and weeding, but that’s about it. After stuffing my face with pasta, I get an early night and set my alarm for 5:20am.
Saturday nights in your 40s, eh?
Sunday 26th July
I’ve been a little nervous about this long run. It’s 20 miles, the longest so far, but also the first time I’ve gone 20 or over since the marathon 13 months ago.
I did 18.2 miles a couple of weeks back, so technically all I need to find is another 1.8 miles in the legs. Hardly a massive jump, but psychologically this is a really important run. If I can complete a nice, steady, dare I use the word comfortable, 20 miles at my marathon target pace today, then my confidence going into the second half of training will be massive. If I struggle at all, self-doubt will creep in.
It’s a fine line we’re walking. Or preferably running.
The other factor at play here is that I’m going away on holiday for 10 days next week. I’m off to Menorca, where the temperature continues to sit around 30-35°C most days. As much as I’m taking my running gear and attempting to keep my plan going, I’m also not completely nuts. I already fear the weather will defeat me while I’m away, but knowing I’m on track will mean I don’t mope about it.
I’m up early as planned, and it’s raining. It feels like it hasn’t rained in ages, not properly anyway. It’s forecast to rain all day (and it actually gets worse and heavier in the afternoon), and I’m quite pleased. It’s still going to be warm-ish, and with the heat we’ve had lately, it’ll make a pleasant change.
I do, therefore, make sure I smear myself in anti-chafing cream. It’s perfect chafing weather, so I’m taking no chances.
I’m soaked through within the first two miles, and it’s glorious.
I’m doing my original 20-mile training run from last year, so I drop down onto the coast where it’s much quieter than usual. It seems those Instagram “runners” won’t be getting their sunrise shot in this rain and gloom, so they’ve stayed away.
This is also going to be a dry run (pardon the pun) for a slight change in my fuelling, as I’m now going to incorporate my accidental electrolytes. So far, so good.
The legs are good, the evil seagulls are now chill, the rain is light and intermittent, and my pace is spot on.
I turn at about 11 miles and feel a little fatigue for the first time. However, it doesn’t stick around for long, and I’m fairly comfortable all the way home. Possibly too comfortable.
My last seven miles are all under my target pace. In one way that’s good. It shows I’m certainly not struggling and that the training is doing its job. But in another, I need to show a bit more self-control. I’ve set a target pace and I need to stick to it. I still have another six miles to find on race day, and I don’t want to blow up because I’ve gone too fast.
I end up completing 20.3 miles in 2:59:09.
There’s another little psychological boost there: 20 miles in under three hours.
My fuelling has gone well, I’m tired without being completely knackered, and I have NO CHAFING.
I’m absolutely delighted.
I had a plan, and I’ve executed it perfectly. In fact, I’ve gone slightly faster than anticipated.
And do you know how I celebrate for the rest of the day?
