The Belfast Marathon

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

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

Sister Michael, Derry Girls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you Belfast. You were magnificent.

Mood: Elated.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 16

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

“Alrighty Then!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, that’s better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See you on the other side.

Mood: Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 14

April 20, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

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

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Easter.

Mood: Resurrected

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 13

April 14, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Lew-Who, Za-Her!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Dectective

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are worse places to take your 2 min static recovery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mood: Suspicious

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 12

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

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

David, The Lost Boys

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just a normal Sunday morning these days.

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

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

Mood: Conflicted.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 9

March 14, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlog, trainingLeave a comment

“One thing about living in Santa Carla I never could stomach; all the damn vampires”

Grandpa, The Lost Boys

Hold on, this one’s going to be a rollercoaster. Week 9. The first (and hopefully only) week where I won’t be able to run at all on the weekend.

Instead, this weekend I will be London. As the football (soccer to my US friends) team I support have got themselves to a Cup Final. So I’m off to the home of Football Cup Finals, Wembley Stadium, to attend it on Sunday.

Reasons for celebration? Not really. The team I support, who’ve I’ve been going to watch every week since I was 7, are always the Bridesmaid and never the Bride. They are also going to be in the Final against arguably the best team in Europe at the moment.

My view at the last Cup Final. In 2022. When we got beat. Again.

In short, they’re probably going to get a hiding. I expect them to get a hiding. They will get a hiding. But if you don’t have hope, what do you have?

So from Saturday morning when I board the train, to Monday evening when I return, I’ll be dealing with this highly probable outcome in the only way I know. I’ll be drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

So, no big run on the weekend. Instead, my week will look like this:

Monday – Core Strength (rest day)
Tuesday – Club Speed Session with 5 mile warm up
Wednesday – 6 mile easy
Thursday – 4 mile easy with 10 hill reps
Friday – 22 mile long run
Saturday – Drink heavily
Sunday – Drink heavily, watch Newcastle get stuffed, drink even heavier.

Elite athlete stuff, I think you’ll agree. Weather Klaxon – our mild weather was nothing but a tease. The temperature is due to drop a few degrees, and it’s going to rain most of the week. Fanfuckintastic.

Monday, we Yoga and we Weight train. I’m creaking but I’m ok. It looks like my left knee is going to grumble at me till the end of this process. As long as it stays as a grumble, it’s all good.

The weather has done as predicted. It’s noticeably colder, the wind is rolling off the sea and it’s bitter. I begrudgingly get the base layer out for Tuesday, but refuse to bring back the leggings. That’s accepting defeat.

It’s a Track session that evening, Broken Miles. The last few Tuesday warm ups have been shit, so I take up the offer of meeting three other guys from the Club who are Marathon training, to get them done together. This is just what I needed. The 5 miles fly by, as we chat shit like some sort of victim support group.

The Broken Miles session is a bit of a killer on paper. Then again, aren’t they all. It’s 1200m at 10k pace, 200 jog, 400m 5k pace, rest for 2 mins, then do it 3 more times. I’m tired just reading it.

However, this ends up being my best track session in weeks. I’m in a small group of 6 and we stay tight and at a good pace. By the end, myself and another of the Marathon guys I warmed up with are flying at the front. We both pass comment on this afterwards, that despite the tiredness and the intensity, our fitness and endurance levels have definitely gone up. It’s a great shot in the arm mentally that 8 weeks of graft seems be paying off.

On Tuesday evening, my wife asks if I’ve remembered that tomorrow night I promised to attend a meeting at the school about a trip my daughter is going on. ‘Oh yes, no problem’ I reply. Shit. I’d forgotten.

I don’t fancy running early on Wednesday, I’ll still be knackered from the night before. And by the time I get back from the school and get my shit together, it’ll be late. So the answer is, a lunchtime run.

The shit weather this week is now well and truly set in. The sea continues to shit in cold rain and hail with a strongish wind. Wednesday morning is biblical at times.

Lunchtime though, the clouds part and blue skies appear. It is still windy, and I don’t trust it as far as I can chuck it, so I go out ready for rain. But it doesn’t rain, and 3 miles in I’m feeling too hot. That’ll learn me.

I’m also very leggy. Once again though, I’m pushing through it. I’m tired, but there isn’t even a small part of me that thinks I’m going to stop. An ‘easy’ 6 miles completed.

I go to the meeting at the school in the evening, which is as you expect, but the funniest part is that they are banning mobile phones completely from the trip. I very much enjoy relaying this information to my teenage daughter when I get back. I’m such a bastard sometimes.

As I’m going long Friday, Thursday I’m dropping the Intervals. Can’t say I’m devastated. Instead, it’s 4 miles with the hill reps, and I’m going out first thing.

My luck runs out in regard to avoiding the crap weather. I get caught in a shower and, despite being layered up and wearing a beanie and gloves, I’m cold. It’s done though, and I’ve got 24 hours to rest before the 22 miler.

I’m expecting it to rain and not be the warmest Friday morning, but the winds are predicted to be quite light. ‘Gentle’ the BBC describes them as. This is good, as it’s the wind that is the real cause of the cold at the moment. The route I have planned also heads North along the coast for over 8 miles. I really, really don’t fancy running into a shite, cold head wind for that long.

The signs are good when I get up. The cat comes back in dry from his night of debauchery, so it isn’t raining. He’s usually my first weather barometer while I’m still half asleep and bereft of coffee.

It’s a totally different route to normal for my long runs, and I’ve got a little bit of trepidation about it. The first 8 and a half miles I’m basically killing miles – heading inland before dropping down to the coast. There is method to this madness.

As I’m running on a Friday morning, traffic will be much heavier than the weekend. The commute and schools basically. So my usual route is a no-no. The idea is to eat up miles 1-8 inland before it gets busy, then the last 14 miles (Jesus!) will be all along the coast, no roads to cross, nice and safe.

The first 8 go well. There is quite a bit of climb in this run, especially at the start, but I find hills quite easy when I haven’t got Club Coaches making me sprint up the bastards.

The key part of this run is the coast. If the weather is crap, this can be unforgiven. There is no shelter from the wind, rain, sun, or any elements this planet wants to chuck at you. You are completely exposed to all of them. Which is why I try to avoid it.

There is a slight northerly wind once I hit the coast, but it’s very bearable. It’s a little cold, but I’m not suffering in it. I head up the coast, through Cullercoats, Whitley Bay, Seaton Sluice, then through the Dune path to Blyth.

It’s quite nice going up the Dune path. When I first got into running, I used to drive here to run, because I was self conscious about running round my local neighbourhood. I feel a bit of nostalgia on this part, reminding me of how far I’ve come since the days of plodding round here trying to work up to 10k.

I reach the Bandstand at Blyth at mile 17 and turn. Whatever wind there is, it’s now behind me. About a mile later, I feel that wind suddenly get stronger, followed by a hail storm. Usually, at this point, I’d be shouting ‘FUCK MY LIFE’, but I’m feeling glass half full and am thankful it held off till I’d turned. Running into it would have been soul destroying.

Mile 19-20 we have to climb, but it’s a climb I’ve done countless times before. I’m actually feeling quite strong, and I up the pace. Once I get up the hill and hit mile 20, I know I’m going to finish.

My mile 21 is an 8:56, which was probably stupid when I look back. I drop onto the Prom for the final mile and tiredness is setting in a bit, but I don’t feel wrecked or like I want to stop. My final mile is a 9:06, again too fast, and I end on 22.2 miles in 3:30:20.

I’m delighted. I’m also not completely spent. Could I do another 3.8 mile? I think I probably could. The training is paying off, and this is allegedly the longest run I will have to do as part of the training. Although there are still 20 and 21 mile runs pencilled in the plan over the next couple of weeks.

Job done, and now for 3 days ‘rest’. I’m posting this early on the Friday evening, before I head to London and forget about the running till Tuesday.

Did Newcastle win the Cup Final? Find out in next week’s blog. Or Google it. The answer is probably no though.

Mood: Resigned

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 8

March 9, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

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

Chunk – The Goonies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The new and slightly rude looking GP course

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

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

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

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

Ah well, tough shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mood: Hanging in there.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 7

March 1, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

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

Stef – The Goonies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mood: Horizontal

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 6

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

“I never felt so bad in my entire life”

Chunk – The Goonies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who speaks French and is great at taking photos? MOI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mood: Warm

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 5

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

“Always Separate the drugs”

Mouth – The Goonies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mood: Cautious

Menu

Notbuilttorun.com

marathon