The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 7

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“Is it too late to kill my stepfather?”

Danny Dallas, Soap

Monday 20th July

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?

I do NOTHING.

Mood: Fuck yeah

The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 6

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“He played my body like a pinball machine. I lit up, paid out… and no tilting!”

Bren, Dinnerladies

Monday 13th July – I wake up tired but not leggy, which is a good sign. The weather is much fresher this week, which I intend to embrace – we’re only going to hit the high teens in the North East and see a lot of cloud cover. Lovely. Due to work commitments, I have to do my weights session later in the evening rather than lunch time. I do my online Yoga where I feel a little stiff but no more than usual. The weights session I expect to be a ball ache, but I end up feeling really strong during it, like I have power in my legs. It’s a nice surprise and a good sign after the 18 miler yesterday. The chaffing that my phone caused on my hip looks and feels sore, maybe worse than I thought. I make sure I apply a good dollop of Sudocrem to it, but might need to think about protecting it in some way before the weekend. Having felt great during the weights session, I then hit a big wall after having an evening meal and end up having an early night. The fresher weather means it much more comfortable during the night and I sleep like a baby, which I always find a strange turn of phrase as some babies can be absolute bastards.

Tuesday 14th July – I wake up and feel like I got a much better nights sleep for the first time in a while. I’m much more alert and far less leggy. It’s Club night, and tonight is Track. I like that I get to attend one of the Club nights as part of the plan. The support from my fellow club runner wankers is important. Just from people even asking how it’s going is nice. And it’s always best to bore your fellow club members talking about your Marathon, rather than your family. I set off for my warm up and the fresher weather make it so much more bearable. I’m seeing a pattern emerge on the Tuesday. I go out leggy for a couple of miles, then everything starts to kick in and I feel fine. The Track session tonight is 3 x 1200 at about 10k pace, with 2 min static rests after each, followed by 5 x 200m eye balls out sprints (with 200m slow jogs in between). Once we get going, I feel great. For the second week in a row, I feel strong in the Club session. The tiredness has gone, the legs feel like they have some power, my engine feels like it has lots of endurance. Add in the overcast and fresher weather, and it’s an enjoyable night of running. Did I just use the word enjoy? 

Wednesday 15th July – It’s a big day. England are in the World Cup Semi Final against Argentina. Or, if you’re my non-giving-a-toss-about-football 14 year old daughter, it’s ‘are England playing Afghanistan tonight or sumit? Whateva.’ I go out for my 6 easy straight after work, to give me time to shower, eat, and await the inevitable shit show. The wagonway is a lot quieter than I thought, and we’ve got more of that fresher overcast weather from yesterday. This makes it quite a pleasant and satisfying run. I’m not using enjoy again. Sadly, England don’t get to play Afghanistan so do their usual England semi final party trick of leading a game then throwing it away in the last 10 minutes. Classic England. To be honest, I always feel hugely relieved when England get knocked out. It’s the hope that kills you. 

Thursday 16th July – As if it wasn’t depressing enough having to deal with England getting knocked out last night (I work with lots of Scottish and Irish people, feel my pain), it’s also Threshold Thursday. Tonight’s are epic as well – 5 x 2 miles. I don’t remember this from last year. Perhaps I’d blanked them out. The good news though is that the cooler weather has held. So at least we’ve got that going for us. I’m just going to follow the route I did last week for the 4 x 2 miles but go slightly further along the coast before turning. Last week went well in the heat, and tonight I also get to mix the paces up. So, one of the miles will be ‘fast’, the other at Marathon Pace. Rinse and repeat. Even though it’s cooler than last week, this session feels like harder work. Weirdly, I think if the 2 milers had all been Threshold Pace, I might have found this easier. Instead, I find I’m checking and counting the first mile on my watch in anticipation for the 2nd mile being a bit slower. Like I want to get the first mile out of the way, which is not a good thing. Having said that, this is still a good session and sort of goes to plan. I’m hitting around 7:35-40 pace on my first mile, 8:20-30 on my second ones. Both are too fast, but I’m comfortable. The Club are doing a Time Trial tonight, a fast handicapped 5k along the coast, which I thought about doing then decided would be a really bad idea. My last 2 miles coincide with most of the group coming in, so I quite enjoy shouting them in on this last bit, as well as giving out high fives to a few as they pass. God, I really am a run club wanker. I finish on the sea front, having ran 12 and a half miles. I’m finding that the Thresholds are the hardest session of the week, but also the most rewarding. I felt quite strong throughout, and even though I’m tired, it’s a ‘good’ and satisfying tired. 

Friday 17th July – I wake up with no ill effects from Thresholds the evening before. It’s another dull cloudy day and the last day of term before the kids break up for the summer holidays. This will probably see the coast a lot of busier during the week, so something to keep in mind when thinking about where to run. Fucking general public. My wife has bought me some Chafing Cream for my long runs. Who says romance is dead. I do a weights session during my lunch break, then head off down to the coast form my 4 easy with hills in the evening. It’s surprisingly breezy down the sea front – it’s also high tide, meaning there are some pretty big waves crashing over the prom, something you only usually see in the Winter. The legs are very much on autopilot after last night, but the hill reps feel like they pass quicker than usual.

Saturday 18th July – Parkrun Volunteering day. The heatwave is not only over, it’s dead. It’s, dare I say it, cold down the sea front. Overcast, drizzle in the air, a cold wind coming off the sea. More like January than July. I put on a hoodies and pants. Pants for Gods sake. Despite this, it’s a very busy Parkrun – we have over 600 finishers in the end. They include a Hen Do, where one of them informs me she thinks she might be sick. We also get some arsehole energy in the Funnel. One young lad whinging to me that the ‘funnel is too long’, while an older guy with a 100 t-shirt on aggressively tells us the Funnel is too slow to get moving. Off you fuck lads. I hope you get shin splints.

Sunday 19th July – It’s long run Sunday. We’re back down to 16 miles for this one. Today is all about the chafing. More precisely, the avoidance of it. I’m going to smear on the cream my wife gave me, to see if that makes a difference. It’s cooler again this morning, with a bit of a gusty wind added in. In fact, it’s dull, 11 degrees, and feels more like Autumn. I’m sticking with my stay away from the coast policy. This turns out to be an even better decision once I get out there. That wind really is gusty, and I find out later that it was at its worst down on the sea front. It feels really quiet this morning – much quieter than usual. I get it done without incident, although the odd wildlife behaviour continues. I see a Crow trying to catch a rabbit (no, really) and at one point a Squirrel seemingly fall out of a bush in front of me, before we eyeball each other suspiciously, and it dashes back into the undergrowth. I feel strong throughout and great at the end. More importantly though – no chafing. Hopefully it’s the cream, but it’s difficult to tell as it’s also much cooler, so I’m literally not sweating my bollocks off as much. Next week will give me more of an idea, the temp is due to go up and the long run jumps to 20 miles.

Mood: Chaff free

The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 5

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“Then, mistaking a group of garishly dressed men for pirates, Tobias boarded a van full of homosexuals.”

The Narrator, Arrested Development

Monday 6th July – After staying up till 4:30am watching England, I’m tired today. I’m not as knackered as I could have been though. I boxed clever with an early night, so it could have been a whole lot worse. A late start at work was never an option. I work from home but officially I work out of the Scottish office. So, unsurprisingly, I didn’t receive any emails last week telling me I could have take the morning off. The World Cup ended for Scotland a week or so back. That’s not a dig at them by the way, it’s just the way it is and I don’t blame them. The day doesn’t drag as much as I thought it would to be fair. I get my weights session in over lunch time but it’s a slog. My virtual Yoga session is cancelled but I decide I really need the stretch, despite the fact I can’t be arsed. I therefore watch a 30 minute YouTube video that I’ve done before. It’s also a slog, but I’ve still managed to get my two usual sessions in. I have tea, then put myself to bed for 8pm. I’m so middle aged.

Tuesday 7th July – I wake up refreshed and with the good news that the USA got pummelled by Belgium overnight. Delicious Karma. I feel a bit stiff in the morning and leggy through the day. The club session tonight is Thresholds. Two sets of Thresholds in one week? Can’t wait. When I get out for my warmup miles however I feel ok. There is a spot on rain in the air which is just fine by me – we’re predicted some warm weather the rest of the week so I’ll take this while I can. The session is a series of short bursts of 5k paces – 90 seconds, 60 seconds, etc, followed by recoveries. Mini thresholds really. We get all the way to the other end of the Coast and Tynemouth, where we get a 3 minute static. Looking out to sea we’re lucky enough to spot a pod of Dolphins. We get them quite a lot during the summer here, but I always seem to miss them, despite seeming to spend half my life down here running. So it’s nice to not only get to catch them, but also do it while standing completely still. It’s then a run back along the coast, around 2 and a half mile ish, at threshold pace. I’m not looking forward to this bit, but once I get going, I really get into my stride. In fact, I feel stronger the longer it goes and breakaway with the quicker runners in the pack. I know I’ve gone to fast, and I know I’ll probably pay for it as the week goes on, but by fuck I enjoyed that. 

Wednesday 8th July – It’s the start of another ‘Heat Wave’ for the UK. As will all Heat Waves, the North East isn’t going to get it as bad, so we’ll only have low to md 20s for the next few days. The day starts badly when I notice that one of my Stick Insects has died. I did think it was dead earlier in the week, but they’re very good at pretending they’re dead – it’s kind of part of their party trick. I take it out with my daughter’s eyelash curlers then flush it down the toilet. I decide to never tell my daughter about either of these things. It does feel very warm first thing. A combination of sleeping badly (including my cat sitting on my head at 3am) and going far too fast last night, has meant I’ve woken up tired again. The longer the day goes on, the more tired I start to feel. By mid afternoon I can feel myself dozing off at my desk, which I never do. It’s 6 easy today, and boy will it be easy. I head off down the Wagonway and it is warm. Close and clammy. There are files everywhere and an absolutely massive one kamikaze’s itself into my mouth. I do manage to spit it out before the inevitable swallowing and gagging that all runners experience with fly swallowing. Add flies to the list of animals that have tried to kill me during Marathon training. Physically, I’m not as knackered as I thought I would be. When I turn at 3 miles you can feel that the temperature has dropped maybe a tiny bit. Not dramatically, but it doesn’t feel as hot as on the way out. The flies have also buggered off, meaning I finish without any more assassination attempts. It appears to be things with wings that don’t like me.

Thursday 9th July – It’s hotter than yesterday. I’m meeting a work colleague for lunch while he passes through on his holidays. As soon as I pop out the front door you can feel the heat. When I get down the sea front there is a nice Southernly breeze down there. Tonight’s Thresholds are going to be a bit of a stinker –4 x 2 miles. I make a decision that I’d be nuts not to come down here and take advantage of that. It will be busy though due the weather. Bloody general public. So I’m going to head North towards Seaton Sluice where it will be much quieter, then turn back South to finish on the front before I hit the busy stretch, whilst also taking advantage of the breeze being in my face on the way back. Clever shite me like. After a very pleasant lunch with my colleague, where I show great restraint and not eat very much, I come out to see a bunch of Motorhomes on the main pad. That’s not good news for Parkrun on Saturday. The Pad is both the start and finish of the course. Unless the council move them on before then (highly unlikely) it will be cancelled. Oh well, I’ll have a lie in on Saturday. Later on I venture out for the Thresholds and, despite the heat, it goes really well. I feel quite strong, and my planned route ends up working out perfectly. I really am a clever shite. When I finish, I have a lie down on the grass for 10 minutes and enjoy the early evening sun. A good nights work, nothing winged tried to kill me.

Friday 10th July – Yup, it’s hot again. Although the breeze from yesterday is much more noticeable inland – it’s not just confined to the sea front. In contrast to last week, I don’t feel tired. I do my weights session at lunchtime, where it’s warm but bearable. Then it’s down the coast in the evening for my hills session. It’s a lovely, warm summers evening and the coast is really busy. I’ve noticed my hill reps are getting gradually slower as the weeks go by. First week so was sprinting up here, this evening it’s just about getting it done. Still, get it done I do!

Saturday 11th July – As predicted, Parkrun is called off. The irony being that it’s called off late on the Friday afternoon, then the Travellers fuck off about an hour later. It’s like they knew and it was their final act of trolling the locals. Fair play to them. As England are playing late in the evening, I decide to take advantage of this and have a long lie in. This will turn out to be a great decision. England beat Norway after extra time, which means I don’t get to bed until well after midnight. Seeing as I’m planning on getting up at 5:30am to get in my long run, that lie in was a work of genius.

Sunday 12th July – I’m up at 5:30am and whilst tired, know it could have been much worse. Today’s run will be a real tester to see where I’m at and whether my sub 4 hours is achievable. I’ve kept my oar in over the Winter with the odd 16 miler here and there, and today is the first time I’ll go over that distance since the Marathon last May. It’s ‘only’ a couple of miles more, but this will be 18 miles at faster pace than ever before. I accidentally (although I blame Amazon) bought a box of Electrolyte gels instead of Isotonic ones and didn’t realise till yesterday. I decide to take one with me to have as a ‘bonus’ gel at around the halfway point. It’s a nice morning, around 14c, with intermittent sunshine. I once again avoid the coast completely and head inland for a slightly modified route that incorporates my 16 miler and the 20 milers I did last year. Importantly though, it’s designed around avoiding those evil white feathered bastards of the sky. It’s a pleasant run and I feel good. Thankfully, my route is avoiding all of the demonic gulls and I have a violence free run. At around 9 mile I try my Electrolyte. It tastes amazing, a bit sweeter than the Isotonic, and whether it’s all in my head or not, I feel really refreshed for taking it and get a burst of energy for a mile or so. This could turn out to be a great happy accident. My feet feel great as my shoe situation seems to have sorted itself out. One tiny issue that I noticed a bit last week has happened again this week – chafing. Due to the heat (or at least it being a bit warmer) I’m sweating more but it’s drying out straight away – prefect chafing conditions. I get a little bit on my inner groins, although they aren’t too bad. I’m not screaming in the shower afterwards and I can walk around the rest of the day without even noticing. It is something to note though, and I think I may have to rack out the Lanacane for the first time in years. The surprising bit of random chafing I get that bothers me more is on my right hip. This I assume is caused by my phone, which is tucked into a phone pocket within the inner shorts. I’ve been wearing these make of shorts for a few years now, and never had this happen before. Again, I can only put this down to the warm weather and long duration of the run. It’s another spot that I’ll need to grease up before I head out next week. Apart from those slight negatives, the run goes great. I maintain my Marathon pace throughout and do the 18 miles in 2 hours 41. Of course I’m a bit tired, but certainly not absolutely knackered. In fact, I head out with my daughter for a long walk in the afternoon and end clocking 40k steps by the end of the day. The slight chafing is the only real negative, but even then I hardly notice the rest of the day and it doesn’t detract from my mood that this morning was a job well done. 

Mood: Erm..a job well done.

 

The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 4

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“Oh, that’s right, Vyvyan. If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, smash the drawing room to pieces. That’s very Buddhist, isn’t it?”

Rick, The Young Ones

Monday 29th June – Today is one of those days where everything is a struggle. I think I’m tired, but not in the traditional sense of being tired. I don’t have heavy legs, I don’t feel like I need to have a sleep. I just feel like I properly can’t be arsed. It could be PTS from the Seagull attack. My blister is a bit sore but nothing a bit of strapping and stiff upper lip won’t solve. I do my weights session at lunch time and it really is an effort. The legs are fine, this one feels like a mental fatigue. It is much cooler this week, the air is fresher and it makes a massive difference. I do my Yoga for Runners in the evening and I’ve actually perked right up by then. I’m even happier later on when Japan score against Brazil – I’ve got a fiver on them at 50 to 1 to win the whole thing. Sadly, my dreams of super shoes are cruelly taken away when Brazil score the winner in injury time. Sons of a bitches.

Tuesday 30th June – I feel much better today, and my blister has popped overnight. Apologies if you’re eating breakfast. There is no club session tonight as the 5 Bridges Race is on. I’m therefore planning on going on around an 8 or 9 mile plod along the coast later on. It’s predicted to be a very pleasant 17c at around 6pm, but with a Thunderstorm warning. I’m frustrated about my blister and tape it up as a precaution. It’s warmer than I thought when I get out. The Storm clouds linger in the air but never block out the sun, which is giving off some heat. I turn on around 5 miles and am hit by a lush sea breeze that stays in my face all the way back. I do an accidental 10 miles, the last 5 of which were quite pleasurable. 

Wednesday 1st July – I have dilemma today. I am supposed to be running the Pie and Peas 10k. I’d hadn’t planned on doing this originally. It’s a great race, lovely course, but I didn’t want any ‘fast’ stuff during Marathon training. However, my mate wanted to do it and we signed up during a moment of weakness (I was pissed) in the pub a few months back. However, as England are now playing Congo at 5pm, he’s pulled out. I’ve been in two minds about. I probably shouldn’t have signed up for it, and it’s too late to Bib Transfer (they don’t seem to allow this anyway). However, I have spent £22 to enter it. Also, the England game *shouldn’t* be that important. If they can’t beat Congo in a Round of 32 game then they want shot with shit. That’s not me being a cocky Englishman, that’s me being a realist. In the end, I decide not to do it. It’s the sensible decision. I’m not going to do owt daft. I do feel a bit leggy in the morning, and I’ve got Thresholds to do tomorrow, so both of these sway my decision to a no. I feel bad as it’s a sell out and someone else could have had my number, and I’m not one for just not turning up for a race. I head out for a laboured easy 6 miler along the coast during my lunch hour. It’s a warm day and I’m more tired than a thought I would be, to the point that I take a Gel before heading out, which helps me push through. Maybe psychologically just as much as physically. I’m not complaining though. Welcome to Marathon training. It’s hard. It’s meant to be. England decide to be very Englandy and go behind early, before scoring late on twice. Which means their next match is 1am in the early hours of Monday. As I technically work in a Scottish Office, the chances of getting a late start on Monday have two hopes – Slim and Bob. And Bob is dead. 

Thursday 2nd July – This evenings Thresholds are surprisingly light – ‘only’ 6 x 1km. Thereforethe dread I usually have for this session is far less that usual. It’s a warm and surprisingly windy evening when I head across to the estate. After last weeks issue with my Sunday long run shoes giving me a slight blister, I’ve decided to switch up my footwear. The long run shoes didn’t give me stick until I went over around 12-14 ish miles. I’m therefore going to wear them on this Thursday session going forward, with the ones I usually have on will now be my Sunday long ones. A 10 minute warm up and only needing to do 6km, I should be over and done in no time. Despite this though, I find it tough. Because my head has mentally prepared itself for quick and easy, it’s anything but. I slog my way round, the last 3 are especially a ball ache, before getting back in the house for what feels like no earlier than usual. This was definitely another sign of the psychological fatigue I was feeling yesterday. Still, it’s all part of the process. Every Threshold session I complete is another win. So I’m winning. More importantly though, my running shoes didn’t give me any blister problems. Double win.

Friday 3rd July – Friday means hills. I do a weights session during my lunch hour then after work head out for the 4 miles easy with hill repeats. It’s still fairly warm but there is light rain in the air and it’s a nice change. The hills are getting harder, but I think it might just be one of those weeks where everything is feeling harder. I finish my 4 miles down on the Prom and spot a huge Seal near the shore doing some feeding. I watch it for a bit, enjoying the rain and it being a bit quieter than usual down here. That’ll be because it’s raining, so it’s only daft bastards like me hanging around.

Saturday 4th July – It’s rest day, which means Parkrun volunteering day. I’m helping with the funnel again and am joined this week by my niece, who is volunteering to gain credits for her Duke of Edinburgh Award. It all goes smoothly, no spitters, no pushers, no duckers. We do get a moment where the funnel grinds to a halt, by the looks of it because of an issue with the Tokens. However, it passes quickly and  it’s another successful piece of marshalling where I manage not to kill anyone. 

Sunday 5th July – It’s another 16 miler today, and I’m going to be attempting a slightly different route. It is a route I tried out earlier in the year, so I know it’s 16 miles and I know I can do it. I’m up early and out the door for 6:15am. I’m heading down to the sea front, but this time going North, rather than the usual South. So turning left, rather than right, when I get down there. It’s a pleasant morning, mile without being too warm, still windy but a warm wind. It’s amazing the difference between Winter and Summer wind. Even though it’s just as strong as the Winter stuff today, as it’s not cold it just doesn’t bother me. I hardly even notice it. It’s the same plan as always – try to stick to Marathon target pace. I’m a little apprehensive though after Blistergate last week. As mentioned, I’ve switched shoes for this one. My confidence was a little dented after last week, and I don’t want to find that suddenly long runs are making my feet sore, so that I have to fuck about and buy new ones. This run should let me know where I’m at with that. At around the 7.5 mile mark I hit Blyth and turn away from the coast and inland. I’m going to be following a long straight road for a couple of mile, before then heading into a very scenic off road track that will take me back South for a few mile. About half way down the track, I disturb a huge bird of prey that is sitting in the tree overhead and it swoops majestically in front of me, at eye level, for a few seconds, before flying off. It’s both amazing and I shit myself at the same time. I think it was a Buzzard. It was absolutely huge anyway. I’m now into civilisation, before getting back on the Wagonway which takes me the last 5k to home. The feet have survived and feel fine, so I’m going to settle on this shoe switch. In the evening, England are going to be playing at 1am. Christ. So I have a little nap in the afternoon and then an early night. I get up to watch them win a rather entertaining but no good for the nerves game 3-2, before getting to bed for around 4:30am. I’m sure I will not regret later Monday. Definitely not.

Mood: It’s Coming Home 

The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 3

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Holly: “Nothing wrong with dog’s milk. Full of goodness, full of vitamins, full of marrowbone jelly. Lasts longer than any other type of milk, dog’s milk.”

Lister: “Why?”

Holly: “No bugger’ll drink it.”

Holly and Lister, Red Dwarf

Monday 22nd June – It feels like the first two weeks have flown by much faster than in the last cycle. It’s week 3 already, and it promises to be a hot one. It starts fresh enough – both weather wise and physically. I feel in good nick – probably due to yesterday’s long one ‘only’ being 12 miles. During both my Yoga and Weights sessions I feel neither leggy nor sore. I know from experience that this probably won’t be the case from now on, so I embrace it.

Tuesday 23rd June – Today is the start of the heat wave. I mercifully whinged countless times on this blog about living next to the North Sea and it spending most of the Winter trying to kill me through exposure. This week, I need to apologies to it. We’re probably the coolest place in England, and for that I am truly thankful. Ask me again in November though. It’s still very warm though – 20 degrees plus when I get out for the club session later on. This one is down the sea front though, so I’m hoping for a nice cooling breeze. And we get it. It’s a big relief when I get down there, about 5 degrees cooler with a lush breeze. The session itself is great – a mixture of paces over different times. Nothing too nuts. I get back in plenty of time to watch England draw nils each with Ghana.

Wednesday 24th June – The heat wave is now fully entrenched. It’s 6 mile easy day and once again I head off down the Wagonway in the evening. I was tempted to head down the coast for the breeze again, but I just know it will be packed down there. It’s much quieter on the Wagonway, and cooler than I thought. I also feel like the legs and the ‘engine’ are starting to get used to the miles now.

Thursday 25th June – It’s thresholds day and I’m really not looking forward to this one. It’s warm and this one is a little bit more testing – 6 x 1 miles. I’ve gone far too fast on my last two weeks of thresholds, so make a mental note to slow it down this evening. Having said all of that, I really enjoy this session. I go too fast again (fucks sake) but the heat doesn’t get to me and this feels like it’s over quite quickly. Which is always a good sign. I feel smugly happy with myself afterwards.

Friday 26th June – Due to a mixture of the heat and being busy in the evening, I get our first thing for my hills session. Always a gamble when you’ve only really had 10 hours rest since thresholds. However, my legs feel good. It’s very warm, even though it’s still early, and I’m absolutely drenched in sweat when I finish. I walk back up just in time to miss a huge thunderstorm – it literally starts the moment I shut the door behind me. I wouldn’t have minded getting wet actually, it would have been quite refreshing. Being struck by lightning though, not so good.

Saturday 27th June – Rest day, although I am going to do some core work. Due to the heat, I’ve had a week of crap sleep. It finally catches up with me this morning and I feel knackered. After getting some jobs done in the morning and doing my weights workout, I nip back to bed for a nana nap for a couple of hours over lunch time. England are playing late, and I also need to get up early for my long run tomorrow, so catching up on sleep when I can seems like a good idea. I also need to do some prep – I’m going to be on the Snot Rocket Podcast on the Sunday evening and we’re reviewing a film. So I need to watch the film. That would help. It’s the Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and I really enjoy it. England make hard work of it, but win 2-0.

Sunday 28th June – I’m up early to beat the heat and my couple of hours nana nap yesterday seems to have done the trick. It’s warm again, but there is a definite breeze in the air, which is lush. I head down to the sea front for the first 5k or so and, despite it being 6:15am on a Sunday morning, there are pockets of runners out and about. Flashback to the first time I did this 16 miler last February. It was dark, cold, windy, and I never saw a soul for this whole portion of the route.This first part ‘flies’ by, and I’m soon heading inland. I’ve modified this route slightly or the summer. It’s seagull nesting time, and this time of year the flying rats can get very aggressive – they especially hate runners. Never mind Drones or Nuclear Warheads, if military forces around the world recruited these feathered bastards they win in a day. There is a particular spot around 6 mile in, whereby the most evil gull I’ve ever encountered sits waiting for me every June and July. I’ve therefore managed to figure out a slight detour that doesn’t bring me over or under the 16 mile. Or get me assassinated by these winged arseholes. Or so I thought. Because out of nowhere, like a white squawking ninja, I’m dive bombed by one of Lucifer’s minions, it’s claws missing my head by mere centimetres. FFS. Heart rate and Pace both through the roof, I manage to survive the attack – not before shouting ‘C*NT’ into the deathly silent street at 7am on a Sunday morning. Attempt on my life survived, the rest of my run is comfortable. Although I do find myself side eyeing every gull. This is the third time I’ve worn my new Brooks to run – they’ve had a 12 and 1 4 mile run in them – and I noticed after the 14 one that my big toes were a little sore. Nothing bad, but I put this down to wearing them in. However, I am starting to feel this again at around the 12 mile mark. At 15 miles, my left big toe is now noticeably sore. 16 miles completed, I take off my sock to investigate and find a blister on the inside of my big toe. I never get blisters. Great. Something to keep an eye on, but it look like these might not be the Marathon shoes after all. After a hearty breakfast, I prep for the Podcast by drinking several beers then record it in the early evening. I really enjoy it, we have a a good laugh, but I do wonder after if I’ve made an arse of myself. Still, after the seagull attack, I’m just thankful to still be alive. Twat.

Mood: Traumatised

The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 2

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“The sex was great, but he was British and had no idea.”

Rebecca, Cheers

Monday 15th June – Yesterday was my wife’s birthday. There was cake, ice cream, bacon sarnies. I ate shit loads with the justification of having run 14 miles in the morning. This is always the danger with us runners – do a long one, burn 1700 calories, then eat 4000. As such, today I feel both leggy AND fat. Thankfully, it’s a rest day. I do my core exercises at lunch time. The legs feel a little heavy, but nothing major.

Tuesday 16th June – My right groin is a bit sore. Or is it my hamstring. Something is sore to the point I’ve noticed it anyway. I’m doing club track session – long reps at 10k pace. I head out for a 5 mile warm up and feel…pretty good. I put this down to the fact that it’s the first weekend in a long time that I haven’t done a ‘fast’ run – either Parkrun or the quicker 10 miler. The track session also goes well. I’m in a good group and the pace is sensible. A couple of warm down laps, and 10 miles in the tank.

Wednesday 17th June – We’re hitting a spell of warmer weather and today is what my grandmother used to call ‘close’. She also use to say lots of racist things. But in this instance, by ‘close’ she would mean the air is warm. I head off down the Wagonway in the evening for my 6 easy and it’s a lovely summers evening. The Wagonway is fairly busy with walkers, dogs, cyclists, and a few runners as well. It’s all very British. I get back in time to watch England beat Croatia 4-2 in the World Cup. It’s coming home. Probably.

Thursday 18th June – The close conditions from yesterday have carried over to today. It’s Thresholds day, so I’m under no illusions that this one has the potential to be hard work. I set off to the local Estate (which I’ve christened ‘The Loop of Pain’) and tonight it’s 10 x 1kms with 2 min recoveries. Despite the fact I complete this at far too fast a pace again, this isn’t as painful as predicted. When I get back in the house, I’m drenched in sweat. It looks like I’ve been dumped in the sea. I smell like it as well.

Friday 19th June – The warm, muggy weather continues. After last nights energy sapping Thresholds, I’m a little heavy legged. Lunch time core session is waaaaarm. Even with the window open, it’s hotter than Christina Ricci circa 1999. In the evening, it’s 4 miles with hills. Thankfully, it’s cooled down a bit. To stop losing count on my 10 hill repeats, I say the name of an NUFC footballer who used to wear that shirt number in my head as I go up. The more obscure the better. I bet mo one has said Wayne Fereday’s name in years. Unless making a list of our shittest ever players.

Saturday 20th June – No run today, so I continue to volunteer at the Parkrun. I’ve massively got the hang of the Funnel Manager role now. It’s important today especially, as due to other venues cancelling and the weather finally deciding to do that summer thing, it’s busy. For about a 5 minute period, I think I shout ‘well done everyone, keep moving down the funnel’ about a billion times. I think I shout it in my sleep at 2am later that night. Afterwards, I find out we’ve had pushers on the course (it’s a 2 lap Parkrun, so this does happen from time to time) and someone accidentally spat on the Timekeeper. All of these people are adults, allegedly.

Sunday 21st June – My wife and daughter are up at 3am to head down to the beach to catch the summer solstice sunrise. Whilst I’m partial to an early start, I have a rule about getting up on the middle of the night for anything. It’s that I don’t get up in the middle of the night to do anything. Peeing and catching a flight are my two exceptions. I only have to do 12 miles today, which is nice. It’s a warm and gorgeous morning and I head down the coast, north along it, then back inland to follow the Wagonway back. I again do this at what I want my Marathon pace to be, which I achieve will relatively ease. It will be interesting to see if I can maintain this when I start to hit 18/19/20 milers.

Mood: “Moto Moto. Than means hot hot’”

The 2026 Marathon Training Blog: Week 1

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“Get the fuck out of my house, Larry.”

Susie, Curb Your Enthusiasm

I know what you’re thinking. Not this shit again.

And to be honest, I changed my mind more than a toddler on a day out over this.

Ultimately though, I found putting down my thoughts and re-reading cathartic, cleansing, and other bollocks buzz words I don’t really know the meaning of.

I am going with a slightly different format this year though. I’m going ‘old skool’ and doing the daily short and sweet stuff I used to do way back on my Weebly blog.

Christ, Weebly, is that still going?

Googles “Weebly“

Well shit, my old site is still active. I hope I’m not paying for that.

Anyway, waffle. Let’s strap in tight, cos here we motherfucking go..

Monday 8th June – it’s the first day of Marathon training and today is..a rest day. Mondays will be ‘hench’ day. Working on my core. Phwoar. I’ve been keeping the weight training up as part of my weekly routine, so it’s nothing new and business as usual. It’s therefore a rather anticlimactic start if I’m honest.

Tuesday 9th June – I should be doing either the club session, with warm up and cool down, or an easy 8 mile if I don’t fancy it. Instead though, it’s the Blaydon Race tonight and I’m in it. Uh-oh. Review to follow, but it basically pisses down for the start and I get a very nice 41:56 chip time. It’s pound a pint in the pub afterwards, which means ‘I’m going for one’ turns into catching the last Metro home. Athlete.

Wednesday 10th June – Life choices and their consequences. Wake up ‘groggy’. Sore legs from the Blaydon, slight dull headache from the pound a pint. Head out for my easy 6 along the Wagonway after the work. It’s, as expected, leggy. Check plan and notice it should have been 5. Again, life choices and their consequences.

Thursday 11th June – Thursday Thresholds, how I have missed thee. I think it’s fair to say this is the ‘stinker’ session of the week. If I thought my legs were sore yesterday, then today they knack. I’m a trooper though, so head out to the local estate loop, exactly as last year. 10 x 4 mins. I stick on some tunes and just get this one out of the way. By the time I’ve finish, I’m sweating so much it looks like I fell in the sea. Just 14 more of these to go.

Friday 12th June – Friday is going to be hills day. An easy 4 miles, with 10 hill reps at some point during it. The ‘hill’ in question is the ramp between proms, down on the sea front. It’s the ramp we go down on our Club Grand Prix. I can confirm that is the better direction. Considering my week, this goes ok. Other than I fuck up my milage and hit 4 miles while still on the sea front. So I stop and walk home.

Saturday 13th June – Rest day. Since last November, I finally joined the cult and started doing Parkrun. I know some people do the ‘Parkrun Sandwich’ when Marathon training – where you do Parkrun in the middle of/after your long run to make up the miles. Each to their own, but not for me Brian. So instead, out of the kindness of my usual cold dark heart, I offer to volunteer for the next few months. They stick me down for Funnel Manager, which sounds really important, but in reality is just you putting on a hi-viz and diplomatically reminding everyone to move down to the scanners. It’s a busy one this morning, but we get everyone through without incident. I’ve still got several more opportunities to fuck it up through.

Sunday 14th June – Long run day. The plan is to do these at on or around what I want Marathon pace to be. This should be an easy ish 14 miler. Although I’m still feeling my legs from Blaydon earlier in the week, despite yesterday’s rest. It was also my wife’s birthday, so we had a nice pizza for our evening meal the night before. Very tasty, but not ideal pre-long run nutrition. It takes me a while to get going, but I eventually run myself into it and finish strongly. My target pace is also spot on. A good start. It can only go downhill from here.

Mood: De ja vue

The Cookson 10k 2026

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“When you grow up, your heart dies”

Allison Reynolds, The Breakfast Club

What do Dolly Parton and running have in common? This is not a boob joke, by the way. The answer is – absolutely nowt.

Until now.

It’s Cookson 10k time again. The most local race to me, organised by my running club. First run waaaay back in 1921, it’s had a chequered history, including a few years off and a complete change of course. But the current incarnation is flying. Every year, the feedback is the same – it’s everyone’s favourite race. People love it. I love it.

It’s also famous for having a music-themed finisher’s T-shirt that’s kept secret until the very last minute. I think you’ve guessed where the Dolly Parton connection comes in. In the past we’ve had Joy Division, The Happy Mondays, RUN DMC, The Velvet Underground, to name a few.

While nobody knew exactly what this year’s T-shirt would look like until the race was over, we did get a hint the week before. Race numbers were posted out and, unless you were born and still living on the moon, it wasn’t difficult to guess this year’s artist.

What a way to make a living

When I say this race is local, it really is. The start and finish are less than a mile from my front door.

You could probably catapult me there. Sadly, I’m not currently in possession of that particular piece of medieval weaponry, so I settle for a nice walk instead.

It’s a lovely evening for it. It’s late May, so we’re finally getting an increase in temperature. It’s going to be a balmy 17°C when we set off, which I’m not too bothered about. The biggest issue tonight is going to be the wind. There’s a fairly decent headwind when we hit the hill. Twice. Have I mentioned we do the hill twice? Well, I have now.

On the plus side, it’s a warm wind. And it doesn’t have rain in it. Or sleet.

As this is a race organised by my club, there are a lot of us running it. Red vests scattered everywhere, lots of faces I recognise. I’ve been at the club long enough now to have reached peak wanker status. As in, I seem to know who loads of people are now. Although there are still quite a few I’ve never seen before in my life.

These are the people you never see at any of the training sessions but who are quite obviously club members. They also tend to be the really fast people. I imagine this is because they’re off doing far more hardcore stuff – kicking trees, hanging upside down for six hours, that sort of thing.

I’ve got two slight equipment changes being tested this evening for the very first time.

Firstly, I’ve moved down to a medium-sized running vest. I know – skinny queen. It feels a tiny bit weird, as I’ve always gone for big and baggy, but it’s definitely not too tight. It’s right tight, if that makes sense. Although I do have a feeling it may emphasise my moob bounce, giving off very much a Baywatch vibe when I run full pelt.

Secondly, I’ve recently purchased some running shades. I got these primarily for my summer marathon training. I’m going to be out on long runs through June, July and August, so they’ll be a must. I also look cool as fuck in them, which is all that matters.

It’s time to head to the starting pen. I say “pen” – it’s really just a path outside a school. It’s always a bit of a squeeze at the start. There are around 500 people running this (I’m bib 502, as I’m apparently being alphabetically discriminated against), and that’s a lot of people to squish together on a pavement.

Off to the Start, like a shit Reservoir Dogs

A brief safety message from the Run Director about potentially having to give way to cars on one section of the course (fuck that – I’m commando rolling over the bonnet if it means a PB), followed by the usual “good luck and enjoy” to my fellow club runners, and away we go!

Talking of PBs, I’m unashamedly after one tonight, which is quite rare for me. Normally, I’m not really bothered about them and then end up getting one by accident. Not tonight though. Tonight, I’m after my first ever official sub-45 minutes.

I’m running quick and feeling good at the moment. I also start marathon training in three weeks, so this will probably be my final shot at one for a while.

However, I’ve already mentioned a couple of factors that might royally screw that goal up: those hills and that wind.

Now, the hill I can handle. I grew up at the top of it. My mother still lives at the top of it. I’ve walked, cycled, run, and staggered legless up this hill probably a thousand times. Okay, maybe not a thousand, but you get the wildly exaggerated gist here. So I’ve got no fear of it.

But I hate wind. It’s a motherfucker.

We’re about to find out anyway, because you pretty much start right at the bottom of the hill and then spend the next mile running up it. I’ve done some ducking and weaving through the ‘masses’ at the start line, but it still feels a bit more crowded than usual.

Just because I said I was used to getting up this hill doesn’t mean it isn’t tough. That headwind is also pretty strong, but I proved recently at the Grand Prix and the NT10K that I’ve found a way to battle through it and still hit a decent pace.

On the final stretch, I actually get boxed in a bit and feel like I’m being slowed down. Mile 1 is down though, and it’s an on-target 7:20.

As soon as we hit the flat, I feel a sudden burst of energy and put my foot down. I’m now heading along the street I grew up on and past my old house. I give my old gatepost an acknowledging slap as I pass it and get a sharp ping of nostalgia. Always better than a sharp ping from a hamstring.

I’m feeling really good now, even though there’s still a headwind. We soon get some respite though, as we take a right turn into the Lonnen. I mentioned the Lonnen during my review of this race last year, but it’s basically an old road that’s still unspoilt by development and surrounded by fields.

As I also mentioned last year though, not for long. It’s being slowly encroached upon by “progress” in the shape of 5,000 houses. My nostalgia bubble pops. Or was that my kneecap?

Anyway, at least we’re going downhill now, with the wind on our arses. As predicted, the field has opened up and the old “I got boxed in” excuse is now down the kazi.

Part way down, my watch flashes up for 2 miles and informs me I’ve just done a 6:50. That’s obviously excellent, but also quite frightening on the second mile of a 10K.

Downhill and winning. Kind of.

I… er… might have gone off a tad too fast here.

We’re now out of the fields and back into civilisation. As in, we’re in a housing estate. We’ll cut through here and then be back to where we started.

I’m back on the flat and still feeling quite good as I complete Lap 1. Our club coaches are stationed at this point, so I compose myself and try to look as unfucked as possible as I pass them. I think I got away with it.

Feigning beast mode for the coaches

Lap 1 done, Mile 3 completed – it’s a 6:58.

Piece of piss this isn’t it?

Well, not necessarily, because it’s time to do all that again. Lap 2 of the Cookson is always sink-or-swim time.

I’m back on the hill and back into the headwind. This time round, I’m definitely feeling both. I’m not boxed in either, which, now I think about it, might actually have helped me the first time round as I got a bit of protection from the wind. Now I’m completely exposed to it.

It’s hard graft, but I’m battling through it. Later, I find out from someone I know who was marshalling at this point that they had a few spewers. I’m definitely not going to be hurling chunks, anyway.

As this is Lap 2, the top of the hill is also where we hit Mile 4. This time round, I clock a 7:28, which, if you’re keeping up, is 8 seconds slower than the first time round.

This doesn’t worry me though. I’m not struggling, and these are by far the two fastest times I’ve ever done going up here. I’m also not regurgitating my lunch, so it’s all positives.

However, this time when I hit the flat at the top, I don’t have that previous spring in my step. Who knew a second sprint up a hill would start to tire you out a bit?

I’ve been running pretty much side by side with one of my club colleagues for the last mile or so, and we had a bit of mutual motivational chat on the way up, which helped ease the pain for both of us.

Well, he might not agree.

I know he’s faster than me, so the plan for the final two miles is simply to try and stay with him.

We’re back on the Lonnen now, hitting the downhill and enjoying that arsewind again. I feel like I’m in a good place and realise that, unless something catastrophic happens in the universe right now, I can get my PB without absolutely caning it.

Mile 5 is a 7:09 – 19 seconds slower than the first time round – but I’ve got plenty in the bank. Plus, I need to remind myself of this: that’s massively quick for me in a 10K.

I’m now firmly locked in behind my club colleague and just making sure I stay with him. I let him know I’m using him to pace, but not to worry – his young son could outkick me in a sprint finish, so he’s guaranteed to finish ahead of me.

Self-deprecating bantz. Always a winner.

Mile 6 is a decent 7:05, and I know I could probably limp the last 0.20 and still get a PB. I do not want to test this theory.

As we hit the final straight towards the finish line, my colleague, as predicted, sprints away from me.

Hey, he’s done his job – paced me in exactly as agreed. I do manage to catch a straggler from another club on the way in though, which is always a good feeling, I won’t lie.

I stop the watch and it’s a 44:36, so 7:07 pace. Yup. That’s a PB.

Later, my chip time comes in as 44:32. Even better. Success.

I can now officially call myself a sub-45 10Ker.

Get me.

Now comes the coup de grâce, the crème de la crème, the pièce de résistance, and any other sexy-sounding pigeon French you can think of: the finisher’s T-shirt.

Look at it. It’s a beautiful thing.

Iconic

I share it around Instagram and Bluesky that night and people rave about it. Quite right too – it’s superb. Dolly would approve. And if she doesn’t, there’s a lawsuit coming.

I think we can call this a good night’s work. Race plan executed perfectly, a new PB, a beautiful T-shirt, and I can roll myself home in 15 minutes.

Not before I’ve bought some cake though.

I’ve earned that cake.

Next up, the Blaydon Race. Oh, and 16 weeks of Marathon training.

Behold

The Fairbairn Cup

notbuilttorun, Leave a comment

“Our mutual friend has a flair for the dramatic”

Dr. King Schultz, Django Unchained

You know what’s really clever? Running a 5 mile race, 48 hours after you’ve just run the fastest 10k of your life.

What kind of absolute doylum would do that.

Step forward this dipshit. On the Tuesday evening following the North Tyneside 10k, here I am, racing the Fairbairn Cup.

Oooooo…a Cup. Sounds important. Well, it is and it isn’t. This is the 8th and final race of the club’s Grand Prix season.

I’ve covered the Grand Prix series and its rules in the past on here. It’s complicated. Like the lass you went to school with’s Facebook relationship status.

For brevity and sanity, it’s a series of Handicapped races, you score points, freeze your tits off in cold winter weather and so on.

This last race of the series is slightly different in that it’s slightly longer. Around 2 miles longer. Ish.

However, it’s basically the same course as the earlier races – you just start and then finish a bit further away.

It’s also April now – Spring time – so the weather should be picking up, right?

Wrong.

Not only do we have that manky head wind from the NT10k at the weekend, it appears to have also got colder and stronger.

When I check my Garmin later, it claims it was 11 degrees with a 10mph wind. Absolute lies.

I’ve also got an awful handicap. I’ve only got myself to blame. I’ve had a great Grand Prix season. I’ve been massively consistent, and pushed myself to some decent times, so it’s only right that I’m given a handicap to reflect that. It is kind of the point of the system.

Having said all that, 32:10 feels excessive. As this is a longer race, it’s probably right to be fair. It’s just a bit soul destroying when you see it written down. I’ll also have to deal with the psychological torture of setting off a full half an hour after the first runners.

You could watch an episode of Corrie in that time. Or avoid watching an episode of Corrie.

As it’s kind of getting lighter in the evenings, we don’t need to wear hi-viz for this one. In fact, we’re encouraged to wear our club racing vests.

No problem.

But it’s going on over a base layer.

I’ve gone proper soft.

The start (and subsequently, the finish) is on the lower prom next to the Lighthouse. We couldn’t be standing on a more exposed part of the coast if we tried. I may as well be standing in a wind tunnel in my undercrackers.

As it’s April, I refuse to wear my gloves. A brave and ultimately misguided decision. My poor Raynards ravaged hands are barely still attached.

The clock has started and the first few runners are away. This is going to be a loooong half an hour. I do have lots of people to chat to. But as time ticks over, more and more of them cross the line and start their race.

Which in turn means there are less and less runners hanging around. As the clock hits 30 minutes, I take a look around. There aren’t many people left to start.

And those that are left are absolute beasts. I can’t spot one person who I think I could potentially run faster than. They are all people in the higher groups. They will hunt me down and destroy me.

With the vast majority of the field already off with a big time lead, and the few still left to go stone cold killers, there is a real danger I could finish last here.

I had no real race plan coming in to tonight, but now I do – run really fucking fast.

32 fucking 10 is finally almost here. My group is as I expected – about half a dozen other runners who are definitely quicker than me on paper. My hope is that at least a few of them ate themselves into an Easter Egg coma over the weekend and are still dealing with the sugar hangover.

Off we go, straight into that head wind. I manage to keep pace with the group. For about 400m. Then they pull away.

I do somehow keep on the coat tails of one. He’s someone I know is a good runner, but has had a few injuries, coupled alongside he’s currently in the middle of those ‘wonderful’ years where you have a child who is a toddler. I remember those days. The man is shattered.

This race is going to very much be a game of two halfs Brian.

The first 2.5 miles will be South into the headwind. The second 2.5 miles we’ll have it behind us. So, basically, grind that first bit out. Chin up, tits out.

The mixture of the fear of finishing last, along with going off with a fast group, sees me post a rather impressive 7:07 Mile 1. Mile 2 also isn’t too shabby – with a 7:15.

These first two miles go over in a blur to be honest. Like when you try to blank out traumatic moments in your life.

It’s now time to drop onto the lower prom, dash across 300 metres of it, before climbing out (well, not literally climbing – up a ramp) and turning back to the Lighthouse.

Halfway through now – hey, this isn’t going as badly as I thought. The wind is now behind me, and I’m still within spitting distance of one of the group I started with. As predicted, a few who started behind have galloped past me like thoroughbreds on roids.

However, not as many as I thought. Or maybe I just haven’t noticed. I’ve also caught a few people here and there. Yeah, this is actually going quite well.

In fact, mile 3 is a 7:09. I’ve picked up the pace slightly, and the hope is that the wind will maintain that.

I somehow, from somewhere, do even better than this – mile 4 is a 6:59. A sub seven minute mile, four miles into a 10k. Would you fucking look at me.

Buoyed by this, I kick on for the final mile. I start to pick off more runners who went out before me, but am also now getting caught by more of those who started behind me. It’s the handicap system working beautifully – we’re all coming in at around the same time.

Mile 5 is also quick – a 7:01. As I sprint for the line I notice one of my Grand Prix team members right in front of me. I’m going to catch and pass her.

Instead though, I run alongside, tell her she’s run a great race (she has) then let her cross the line first.

Being an overthinker and natural people pleaser, I immediately question what I’ve just done. In my attempt at chivalry, have I done something quite patronising? Or misogynistic?

Surely it would be more of a dick move to sprint past her at the finish? I’ll be waking up in a cold sweat at 2am for the next couple of months thinking about this.

In the end, I cover 5.17 miles in 36:40, with a 7:05 average pace. Just to show how far I’ve come, in the same race last year, I clocked a 42.09. I’ve pretty much knocked a minute a mile off.

They’ll make me piss in a bottle if I’m not careful.

And with that, the 2025/26 Grand Prix season is over. How did we do?

Well, the team ended up finishing 3rd out of 36. Cracking. On the individual table, I finish 8th out of 288 runners. I said in an earlier post about the Grand Prix that I wasn’t arsed about what I did.

But bollocks to that. I finished 8th.

I will milk that cow for at least another 6 months.

Next up, one of my favourite races – The Cookson 10k. PB anyone?

Doing the splits

Test

Thank Christ that’s over.

Fame

notbuilttorun, Leave a comment

“I’m about as flamboyant as a bagel”

Doris Finsecker, Fame

It’s time for another non-race review quick one from me.

Hot off the heels of my debut in the podcasting world, the fantastic guys from the Snot Rocket Podcast asked me to come back for another episode.

They mustn’t have listened back to the first one.

I’m not sure if they’ll ask my back for a third time, but it’s been a really great experience whatever happens and I’ve enjoyed my probable short lived brush with fame.

I was asked by a family member to describe what the podcast is about. I would say, think of it as the Running version of Drunk History.

Anyway, Episode 130 was about Coe, Ovett and Cram’s dominance of middle distance running in the 80s. Listen here: (or wherever you find your podcasts)

Apple Podcasts – https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/the-snot-rocket-podcast/id1692259218?i=1000762640247

Spotify – https://open.spotify.com/episode/7bbnyVGaDOpsx3RVDHcgS5?si=qlyyOyYASk-bJxQIM-hNig