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.
Wagonway chilling
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.
Shit. I mean Ship
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.
Less is more
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.
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.
Feel the wrath
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..
“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.
A world of pain
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.
“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.
Weeeeeeeeee
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.
A bit of a mess, but you get the gist
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.
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.
3:07 minutes of shitness
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.
No wind. About bastard time
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.
Beautiful, isn’t it.
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.
Week 4, we’ve reached the Quarter point. Is the Quarter point a thing? This will be the end of my first 4 week ‘Block’ anyway.
After switching my long run to Saturday in Week 3, Sunday became a rest day, other than a bit of gentle stretching yoga. Therefore on Monday there is no stiffness or anything niggly.
My long Yoga session is far less ‘ouch ya fucker’ than last week. My weights session also goes really well. In fact, this was the first week of weights where I felt like I was both into it and finding it a little more comfortable. I’ve been doing it twice a week since the end of December now, so maybe the first signs of progress. Maybe.
When I wake up Tuesday though, I feel a bit meh. Like I might be at the very start of getting a cold, which would be a massive pain in the arse.
I’m also a little stiff and sore in the legs, even though I haven’t run for nigh on 72 hours. I find this happens to me a lot. The more rest I get between runs, the stiffer I get. Weird. I do some stretching Yoga in the morning in the hope I can shake some of it out.
Tonight is a Club Grand Prix night. I’ve mentioned the Grand Prix before, but in a nutshell, once a month from September to March we race a 3.4m course against each other. It’s all Handicapped depending on performance, that handicap changed every month dependent of how quick or slow you ran the last one, and we compete in Teams of 8. It’s a bit of fun really, although some people take it far too seriously. I’ve seen grown men literally push women out the way as they hurtle for the line. Arseholes.
I’ve had a cracking GP so far this season. I’m on a 3 race PB streak, although I’m under no illusions that it will end tonight. I’ve no problem with that, but it will be interesting to see how much running slow and long for nearly a month will affect my 5k speed.
The longer the day goes on however, the crapper I feel. At least my new running gloves arrive today. My old ones have served me well, I reckon I’ve had them a decade, but they’re no longer doing the job. I was diagnosed with Raynaud’s a couple of years back. As such, my hands suffer badly in the cold. And I’m bored shitless of it.
I have to get in a 5 mile warm up beforehand, to make sure I hit the 8-10 for the day. There’s a bit of a cold wind, so my new gloves get a test, and they definitely make a difference.
Warm up complete, I’m at the start. Due to the aforementioned good streak I’m having, my handicap start time is a stinking 17mins 50secs. I look at the list of others who’ll be starting with me, and there are some absolute beasts in there.
I’m not going to time my race tonight. I’m just going to restart my 5 mile run. That way I’m not looking at my time or pace, so I’ll hopefully just listen to my body rather than try to fly round it too fast like a tit.
Once we start, predictably, the rest of my group shoot off. It’s what I expected, so I’m not bothered. I am surprised by how comfortable running at a faster pace is though.
I turn at the halfway point and this is going quite well. Then I notice my left shoelace has come undone. What an absolute melt. I’ve only been tying my laces since I was a child, but tonight’s the night I choose to lose that basic life skill.
I keep going, but the sensible decision is to stop and tie them. Stuff my time and position. The finish line is usually a shit show anyway, without me sending either myself or other runners flying.
I find a spot out of the way on the Prom with about a quarter of a mile left and attempt to tie them. Runners are flying past me, and the more places I know I’m losing, the more I fiddle with my laces like a toddler who’s never done this before.
I tie them, take a look to make sure I’m not jumping back on in front of anyone, then resume. I notice that some of the runners I’m gaining on I’ve already passed earlier before shoelacegate, but it’s too late to catch them, I’ve run out of real estate. Mother fucker!
I find out later that I’ve just run a 23:16 5k, my 3rd fastest ever, and finish in 25:50, only 40 odd seconds down on my course record. Damn you shoelace! I finish about 50 places down as well. Double Damn you shoelace!
Wednesday will be an enforced rest day. Although, there’s nothing restful about it. I’m up early on the first train to Edinburgh to meet with my boss for a catch up. I’ll be back later that same day, then off to the match. So, absolutely no time for a run. Anyway, it was quite a nice day in Edinburgh, weather wise. I even cut round the back of the castle on the way into the office and took some arty photos..
Hang it in the Louvre
As the day goes on, I can feel my cold creeping on and getting worse. That evening, like the athlete I am, I sink many pints in the pub before and after watching Newcastle win and get to the League Cup Final. More on that in the weeks to come, as that is massively going to fuck up one of my weekend long runs.
Thursday I wake up feeling shite. Yes, some of it is down to those pints I consumed, but also my cold is now very much bedded in.
Its intervals day, although not as long as the previous weeks. Today I need to do 6 x 1km Intervals. Usual drill, 10 min warm up to the local estate, do the loops. Big difference this week? It’s hard work. I feel quite weak, a mixture of the cold and probably a slight hangover. I get them done, stick to my thresholds, but the struggle is real.
‘Just another Threshold Thursday’
Friday is my birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I reward myself by doing 4 easy miles with hill reps. I used to be cool. I wake up feeling even more shitter than yesterday and the can’t be arsedness is pretty high.
It doesn’t really get any better once I’m out there. The thought of doing those hill reps really doesn’t appeal to me. When I get to the hill though, it’s actually ok. If anything, they actually snap me out of the meh. There’s a bit of a wind coming off the sea though, so I’m actually quite glad when I finish. I end my Birthday with a family curry and still with a wankful head cold.
Windy
We’re back to normal training timetable this weekend. So a short threshold on the Saturday, with a long run on the Sunday. I also receive my next training block of 4 weeks. Shit is about to get real this next few weeks. An 18 miler followed by another 16 miles and then two lots of 20 milers. I’m tired just reading it.
For the first time in forever, I struggle to motivate myself to get out Saturday. I still have a manky cold, there’s a chilly wind coming off the sea, and the thought of getting out to run 3-4 miles at a slightly faster pace isn’t appealing.
I give myself a mental slap and get out the door. Once I’m out, it’s actually all right. Tis always the case. Now I just need to psyche myself up for the 16 miler tomorrow.
This will be the same route as last week, with a little tweak at the 9 mile point, because I can’t be arsed to climb out of Wallsend Burn. So I’m going to run over the top of it instead. A bridge over the top of it. I’m not a Marvel character.
Up early Sunday and it’s grim. Just on the positive though, my cold has miraculously almost disappeared. It’s a recovery of biblical miracle proportions. Whilst I’m feeling better, it still doesn’t change the fact the weather is shite.
First 3.5 miles again are all on the sea front. The sea is rough and noisy, which is always a sign the weather is shite down here. The wind isn’t really that strong, but constant and enough to lash cold rain onto me. I’m staying positive though. Someone told me you have to remember these runs when you get to the start line. The early, cold, wet, dark, mornings when you’ve got out and done it. Bottle them, you might need to go back to that mental reassurance at mile 1, 10, or 22 of the Marathon.
I cut inland and just like last week it’s a relief to be out of the weather. Well, at least the worst of it. The Plan this week has me at this point forward doing 3 mile at Marathon Pace, followed by one mile at easy pace, 3 times. I have a go at this, but the problem is I’m not 100% what my Marathon pace is going to be yet. Yes, I know.
I do have a good go at this anyway, and actually feel pretty good. Another bonus is that at mile 11, where my heart rate suddenly jumped last week, stays in threshold. It stays like this all the way home. I never go into max at all for the whole 16.
I change my route slightly at the end as well. I have my Marathon trainers on, and my original route home through the fields will be a quagmire. I don’t want to get them muddy or wet, so I dive off the Wagonway early and through the streets where I grew up instead.
I want them to stay blue
There is something quite poignant about plodding through my childhood neighbourhood. 15 year old me would never have believed that 30 years later he’d be running past his old bedroom at 14 miles.
I feel so good that my last two miles are my fastest. This despite the fact we’re heading back easterly to the coast and that bastard head wind has returned. It’s probably not what I should be doing, the last two are supposed to be more of a cool down, but I feel good and my HR indicates I’m comfortable, so sod it. It ends up being 16.3 miles in 2 hours 35 mins. Slightly faster than last week. Lovely.
I don’t like out and backs, can you tell?
Just like last week, I’m really happy with getting through another 16 miler, fairly comfortably, at a pace that is on or around Marathon pace. Even though I haven’t really figured out what that is yet.
“Who wants an Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Three Orange Whips!”
Burton Mercer, The Blues Brothers
WEEK 3: JAN 27TH – FEB 2ND
It’s week 3 already, and I feel like I’m into the routine of this now. I haven’t yet hit the ‘ah shit, kill me now’ phase, which will inevitably rear its head at some point.
Everything this week will be the same but different. Same routine, different distances. I’m also pondering changing my big run to early Saturday, instead of Sunday. I’m 80% certain I will at this point, but I’ve got a few days to make my mind up. Or change it several times.
Monday, I wake up feeling pretty good. I’m finding I’m going through a phase of sleeping really well. Probably because I’m fucking knackered running 40 plus mile weeks.
I do my Yoga class but it’s a struggle this week. Thankfully, everyone else in the class also finds it hard work, which makes me feel a bit better/less woe is me.
I start my Weights session and again I’m not really feeling it. However, the longer it goes on, the better I feel. I’m starting to get used to the reps and the intensity. Telling you, I’ll be oiling up and posing like a roided up 80s wrestler before you know it.
Tuesday is Speed night. Not the film. It would give me no greater pleasure than to sit through Keanu and Sandra keep that bus above 50mph, but instead its Track night. And it’s Bonder…Bondra…Bondarenkos.
I actually really like Bondarenkos. 400m fast, 400 jog, 300 fast, 300 jog, 200 fast, 200 jog, 100 eye balls out. Rinse and repeat 3 times. I say I like them, but usually I don’t have to do a 4 mile warm up beforehand.
The real Bondarenko
The session is named after 1988 Olympic 10k Gold Medalist Olga Bondarenko. Her coach devised this session to help her improve her speed. It’s fair to say it worked, it knocked 2 minutes off her PB and she took the gold at Seoul.
Although, Russian athlete, 1980s, possibly has a tinge of dodgy to it. Nevertheless, it’s seen as hugely beneficial for distance runners, and is actually Paula Radcliffe’s favourite training session. And if it’s good enough for Paula, then who am I to argue?
I do my 4 mile warm up, then a slower chattier 1 miler when I get to the club. As mentioned, I usually quite like this session, but I can tell straight away that I’m going to be off the pace tonight. Not massively, it’s just going to be hard work.
By the third set I’m definitely feeling it, but that is kind of the point and the reason there is a longish warm up. Tonight is not just about getting a speed session in, it’s also about teaching my body to run when fatigued.
I get through it, and I’ve knocked off 9 miles in total for the evening. I am knackered when I get home though. The first time since I started 3 weeks ago that I’ve felt it in my legs after a session. I’m sure it won’t be the last.
Wednesday morning I wake up and I’m still feeling it a bit. The legs are just a little bit heavier. I do a short Sun Salutation session to try and help wake everything up. I have a 6 mile easy run to do today, although this can be a rest day if I want. I’ll see how I feel later.
How do I feel later? Well, much better. I head out and really enjoy it. I’m starting to get into slow, easy running. As long as I’ve got my Bone Conductors in and some good music or podcasts playing then it’s all good.
Tonight my shuffle knocks out some good stuff that I’m in the mood for. Radiohead, The Smiths, The Pixies, Belle and Sebastian, Stone Roses, The Charlatans, Pulp. It’s like my 90s Teenage Indie playlist has returned for a nostalgic one night only reform. I complete my 6 down on the Prom and give myself a pat on the back.
Ice cream anyone?
Thursday we’re back to the most testing session of the week for me – Threshold Intervals. This week it’s slightly changed again, 6 x 1 mile intervals. I’m going to stick with the local estate loop I did last week. It seemed to work well, so if it ain’t broke..
I wake up feeling a bit stiff again on Thursday, and my old friend the dodgy Achilles is also having a little grumble. I’m convinced that if anything will stop me doing the Marathon, it’ll be that prick.
I’m out early evening and I feel quite good. I start the first mile and already my pace is faster than last week, while my heart rate stays in threshold. In fact, this continues for all 6 miles of the session.
In da Zone
I find this the easiest and, dare I say it, the most enjoyable Interval session of the three I’ve completed so far. Surprisingly good, surprisingly painless. Beautiful.
Friday is 4 easy and some hill reps. I head along and back down to the sea front for this one. There is a fairly steep slope that heads down to the lower prom, and this is the ‘hill’ they would like us to attack. No Storm Shithead this week, so I can brave going down there without the threat of being swept out to sea.
I’m not as tired or as stiff as I think I will be when I wake up. I’m not looking forward to the hills, but actually, when I get to them, I feel quite strong. It’s a nice morning as well, and I complete my 4 miles on the beach. Because why not.
Life’s a beach
Friday night I do some core strength and have an early night, ready to ‘attack’ those 16 miles early doors on Saturday.
So to Saturday. I’m up at 5:30am and I feel..good. I got plenty of sleep and have definitely benefited from the early night. I’m a little nervous about this run. It’s only 2 miles more than I completed quite comfortably a couple of weeks ago, but it feels like quite an important one mentally.
16 miles is starting to verge into Marathon territory. If I can get through this run, at a nice easy consistent pace, and feel ok at the end of it, then it’ll be a huge confidence booster.
I’m aiming for around 9:40 pace here, slightly slower than my target Marathon pace of 9:30. I’m out the door for 6:20am and away. I head down the sea front and there’s a bit of a cold head wind for this first 5k.
I turn inland though and this disappears. I soon get into a nice rhythm, hitting my pace, sitting on a high aerobic/low threshold heart rate.
It’s pretty flat (and lovely and quiet) until just short of 10 miles, when I have to climb out of Wallsend Burn. I knew there was a bit of a hill here, short but steep, but I push through it. Then I’ve got a gradual climb for a mile or so, after which it’ll be either fairly flat or downhill for the home stretch of the last 5.
At 11 mile I take a gel, still feeling good, and notice my heart rate jumps to low max. I’ll be honest, this pisses me off a bit. I feel good, I’ve been keeping the low pace, but just can’t seem to get it back down, even when I slow down a bit. For the last 5 miles, it jumps between high threshold and low max. Still though, I feel fine. I’m not tired, I’m not begging for this to end, I’m not uncomfortable in any way.
I finish back where I started, 16.2 miles and 2 hours and 37 minutes later, and I feel great. In fact, I’m absolutely fucking delighted. When I check my Heart Rate, I note it went into max for 25 minutes of that. Something to keep an eye on, but not something that is going to keep me awake at night.
Just the 9.8 left to find
Regardless of that HR issue, this has gone well. I’ve hit a big milestone and proved to myself that I can comfortably run 62% of a Marathon. I’m no cocky bastard though. Next week will see another 16 miler. I’ll be less nervous of that one, more confident in fact, but I’ll approach it slow and steady and concentrate on keeping that HR down.
Week 3 done, a good week. I started with a touch of tiredness and fearing that this could be the first shit week. I finish it though feeling confident I’m heading in the right direction going into week 4.
“It’s 106 miles to Chicago. We’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses.”
Elwood Blues, The Blues Brothers
So, it begins. I know. Another wanker chronicling his Marathon training. Big wow. Bore off. I get it, I don’t blame you. This one, the first one, will also be the longest. I’m really not selling this.
However, for my own sanity I’ve decided to record how training is going. When it’s good, when it’s shit, when I feel like I’ve made a huge mistake.
Getting it down on ‘paper’ I’m hoping will help the process. It’s a chance for me to take a breath and reflect, maybe give myself a potentially much needed ra-ra speech.
Most importantly of all, I’m hoping I’ll be able to look back at these when it’s all over and laugh. Even at the parts where I’m blatantly crying for help.
My coach at the club is sending across my plan in 4 week blocks. The idea being, I don’t look ahead to week 9 now and shit myself. It’s a good strategy. I like it. My original plan with the blogs was to make them 4 weekly, but halfway through week 2 I noticed I was writing a novel. So, weekly it will be.
There’s your foreword, now let’s get cracking.
WEEK 1: JAN 13TH – 19TH
If ever there was a reminder that this is going to be far simpler on paper than reality, then welcome to Week 1. I have picked one of the shittest weeks to start training.
Usually, my life is pretty boring and routine focused, which is absolutely fine by me. I’ve massively cut down my alcohol consumption over the past few years, so other than a match day I’m not one for popping to the pub with my cat and a copy of the Racing Post.
This week though.
The lead up to the week is also not as I planned. I pop out for my usual long run on Saturday morning, my last before I switch to a Sunday. I decide to go out on a bang and try a Half. We’re in a cold snap, and there’s a ground frost, but all very runnable.
I get on the Wagonway and I feel great. My pace is pretty good, and mentally this is going to set me up nicely for the weeks ahead. I leave the Wagonway at Percy Main and, suddenly, everything changes. It’s a little bit slippier. It appears to have turned from frost into ice.
I head into Shields and this is getting worse, to the point where I’ve moved onto the roads. Although, they aren’t much better.
Then it happens.
I feel my feet go and I slide majestically on my arse along the path. I’m not hurt at all. I actually did this gracefully and quite magnificently if I don’t say so myself. The biggest plus though, is that there is no one around to see it.
I decide to continue running but to slow down. Round the corner, a car has skidded into the side of a truck. Everyone is ok, but it’s now obvious that there is black ice everywhere. I run on a little bit further, but after another close arse falling call at just shy of 9 miles, I call the whole thing off. I’m only three stops from home on the Metro so, safety first, I tip toe to the Station.
Disappointing, but these things happen. Hilariously, on my way to the Metro, a lady walking her dog slips. I go to check she’s ok, and she is, but then her dog bites me. Right on the fucking thigh. She’s very apologetic, but it absolutely knacks. Whilst it doesn’t draw blood, and I am wearing shorts and tights which probably help cushion it, it does leave quite a mark and a bruise.
It’s just not my morning.
Monday though starts well enough. Mondays are going to be ‘rest days.’ When I say rest, I mean no running. Instead, I have to work on my core strength. I already do a 30 minute online Yoga session every Monday evening. For the next 16 weeks, I’ll be adding on a 30 min weights session straight after.
I found a great ‘Runners Core Strength’ workout on the Nike App which I tried during the Christmas break. It was hard work but good work. Seeing as my upper body strength is as weak as a kitten, anything that involves weights is hard to me. I plan to also do this set on a Friday evening. I’ll be jacked like the Ultimate Warrior by May man.
Tuesday’s are going to be my only Club session of the week. I’ll be missing Thursdays and off doing Thresholds somewhere else. Tuesday is also my only speed session where I’m allowed to run fast. The biggest difference is going to be that I have to do a 3-4 mile warm up beforehand.
Surprisingly though, I really enjoy this first higher mileage Tuesday. I do a nice 3 mile plod and finish at the club, do another mile with everyone else, then a 400m rep session on the track. This is actually the best Track session I’ve had in months. I feel really strong. If every Tuesday is like this I’ll be delighted.
Wednesday is the start of where it gets a bit ‘complicated.’ I’m off to the match in the evening, so I get up to do my session pre work in the morning. It’s a 5 mile easy run. I’m not very good at ‘easy’ runs. I find it a bit of a slog, probably caused by not having the recovery time. But needs must.
Early Thursday I’m on a train to Scotland for work. It’s a team catch up and meal, but I’ve already decided that I’m not going to drink. What a boring bastard.
Thursdays are possibly going to be the most painful run of the week – Intervals. For this first session, I have to hit 10 x 4 min threshold intervals, with 2 min recoveries between. That can be a static rest, walk, or jog.
I know Glasgow fairly well now, so I’ve already planned where to complete this. Down by the Clyde, there is a perfect rectangular route that I can do, crossing two bridges. Clear, not many pedestrians, no roads to cross. Perfect.
Intervals are probably my least favourite training sessions. They feel like they go on forever. This one is no different. The route does turn out to be as perfect as I thought it would be, but it’s a slog on my own. I jog the recoveries, I find static recoveries don’t help me.
Intervals by the Clyde.
Friday morning I’m up early and outside the hotel by 6am. I need to complete 4 easy miles, with 10 x 10 second hills somewhere during it. The hotel is right next to a hill, so I decide to get those hills out the way early. They actually feel ok. The 4 easy miles though really are easy. I’m knackered. I head out to Celtic Park and back, then have the good old Premier Inn buffet breakfast. Burp.
Paradise
Saturday I’m back home and it’s a change of routine I’ll need to get used to. No long runs on a Saturday. Instead, it’s a 5k threshold. I then go to the match, where Newcastle are utter shite, and like a good lad curtail my drinking as I know it’s long run time tomorrow.
Sunday morning is cold and icy. Bollocks. The cold I’ll deal with, the ice though can fuck right off. It’s a baptism of fire, as I have to do 14 miles at aerobic pace. At this juncture, I’m still not 100% sure what I’m aiming for Marathon time wise. I mean, my plan is set around a time, but I think I’ve been overly cautious.
Nevertheless, I go out for my slow 14 and the first 6 miles are a struggle mentally. I feel like I’m going at a glacial pace and that this is going to take forever. Those 6 miles seem to tick over slowly, even though my pace is actually slightly faster than it probably should be. Learning to slow down will come I’m sure, but early doors it’s hard getting my head around it.
The last 7 miles or so are ok though. I’ve settled into it, avoided most of the awful ice, and I finish up in 2:15. Not too shabby. I feel great as well, like I didn’t push myself hard, and when I finished I more than felt like I could have gone on.
“I’m fine, okay? I mean, as fine as someone who’s hurtling toward a gruesome death can be”
Max Mayfield, Stranger Things
That’s right, I’m playing catch up. Again. Its been MANIC. It’s fair to say I’ve probably never been busier. Personally, professionally, and runningally. Yes, I’m aware I posted the Kielder review in July, even though it took place last October. Only God can judge me you bunch of bastards. The plan is that the 2024 Christmas Special will cover most of this year’s running journey. In the true spirit of the season, this update will be ‘bumper’ and include some special guest stars. Only one part of that statement is true.
In the meantime, whilst you’re licking your lips at that prospect, let’s have a good old fashioned Race Review. It’s Great North Run 2024 time. Cue Local Hero.
I have reviewed the GNR quite a few times now and run it even more than that. 13 times now to be precise. The only one I’ve missed since 2011 is the one everyone missed, the Plague hit 2020 one. I ran that one Virtually on the day though, so let’s claim 14 if I really want to be one of those wankers.
I didn’t review it last year. The reason for that was that I paced someone who was running it for the first time. It was their story to tell, I was just their wing man, so I decided to take a fallow year. However, the one thing I will say about the 2023 GNR is this; for the first time in ages, I actually really enjoyed it.
Yes, I know, I was pacing someone who was running a 2:20 half. That’s 25 minutes slower than my usual target. However, I genuinely wasn’t arsed about my time. The goal was to help them hit 2:20 and finish not only their first GNR, but also their first Half. In the end, we got over in 2:21. Considering the heat, that was a cracking effort.
The big take away though was the aforementioned enjoyment. I’d started to lose a bit of my love for it in past years. It was also starting to become a bit of an effort. I would train for it but then struggle on the day, get a bit bored of it as an event and a course. Last year though, I think I got the whole essence of it again. It’s a Fun Run. Have fun. And I did.
Now that’s all well and good when you’re running with someone. I had taken all the pressure off myself to hit my Par time or better, so of course I was having fun. Going back to running it on my own was going to be different gravy. Therefore, my plan for the GNR 2024 was simple. Run it comfortably and enjoy it. Easy right? Let’s find out.
Training for this years GNR has gone well. Very well. As you’ll find out in the Christmas Special, 2024 so far has been a Lazarus running year. I’ve PBd the shit out of everything. My fitness has increased, I’m carrying less timber, I’m running quicker. So, the signs are good. A month before the GNR I do my last ‘big’ training run and decide to do the full 13.1. I feel great and smash out a 1:50:24 PB. For context, that’s 5 or 6 minutes faster than my Half times the year before. I wasn’t lying when I said this had been a good year.
In the interests of the ‘fun’ and ‘enjoy’ bit I was going on about, I decide that I won’t be trying to hit that 1:50 pace again. Instead, my plan is to go out and run at a nice comfortable 1:55 pace. Nowt daft. Train hard, run easy.
So, to the day. You may remember my rant about the 2022 start, which they colossally fucked up. That year, they decided it was a really good idea to put everyone on the Town Moor, then get them to squeeze through tiny gates onto the Start. It was a complete shit show, caused bottle necks galore, lots of runners couldn’t get into their allotted pens.
They put the adults back in charge last year and it returned to its usual issue free start. But not content with that, they decided to let the kid who eats crayons and start fires to have another go at organising this years.
‘Hey, Charlie, remember that thing that didn’t work in 2022? Let’s do it again. It’ll work this time. Honest. Pass me another crayon. And a lighter.’
Luckily, I did bother reading this year’s Guide and pre-empted this clusterfuck. So, I decided to go early. Already there were queues to get onto the Town Moor. This happens when you’re trying to squeeze several thousand people through one tiny kicking gate, just like you did in 2022 you clowns. Now, because I got there early, I was able to easily go to the toilet and get stuff on the Baggage buses, granted. However, reading and hearing stories from those that got there just a bit later, both things got far too busy and very painful.
I’m early, I’ve peeded about 17 times, and my stuff is on the bus. So I think, sod it, let’s just get into my Pen. Again, as I’m early, I walk straight through the Orange Wave gate they have set up. In the days after the event, I see some pictures taken of how crowded and dangerous this gate got, with runners trying to squeeze through it.
It didn’t work in 2022, it hasn’t worked in 2024, don’t do it in 2025. Stay away from Crayons.
Now we’re past the bad bits, let’s get to the good stuff! I’m in Orange Wave D. Quite near the front. I’m almost Elite. Not quite. My mate Phil is in Wave B and I spot him through the fencing, so we have a good catch up which kills a bit of time. I then get into my Pen and I’m feeling pretty good. It’s misty. Rain is forecast. You fucking beauty!
Alright, hang on, I know I said that was the end of the bad stuff, but there is one more thing at the start I wasn’t a fan of. I found the atmosphere as flat as a fart. Over the past couple of years they’ve brought onboard Heart FM to do the pre-run entertainment. I’ve nothing against Heart FM, it’s not my bag, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stick on Heart 90s every so often and sing along to some SVW. But by Christ they are crap at this.
It used to be that once the Starter Gun went, they would blast up-tempo music to keep everyone motivated, while we wait the 30 minutes (or much longer) before getting to the start line. This year, silence. Total silence, other than some tedious Heart FM DJ air filling chats. I counted one of them say ‘look out there at all those smiling faces’ about 30 times. God help those at the back in the Pink Wave.
Anyway, I only have to endure 29 minutes of Smashy and Nicey talking shite and I’m over the line and off. Special mention to my long term Nemesis and local DJ Alan Robson at this point. His shouting of random diseases was missing this year in the Pen. I’ve slagged him off no end for this in the past, but I kind of missed him. I realise just past the line though that he is still doing it, just we now can’t hear him till we get past the Heart FM shit patter lads. He’s a welcome sight for once, apart from the Man Bun. You’re 70 Alan. It’s not a good look mate.
Ah yes, running. Already I feel like this is going to be a good run. I feel loose, have energy, and I’ve already settled into my target pace (8:40ish). That rain that was forecast has started. It’s good rain as well. Not torrential, not cold, no wind. The running Gods are finally looking down favourably on me.
As always, I stay right, so I go over the Central Motorway rather than under it. I’ve written about this in the past, but it’s the best starting side. Not just because it’s the one the Elite prefer either. I’m not trying to be a fat Kipchoge cosplay, there is a sensible reason for it. If you choose left and go under, the GPS on your device goes completely doolaly tap. You have no idea what your pace is. You don’t know whether you’re pushing yourself or walking. This goes on for nearly 2 miles. Up and down like the Mackems. The danger of going out too fast is very real. Stay right, go over kids, ok?
I’m on the Tyne Bridge now and it feels far less congested than usual. I think this is down to having a good starting Pen and getting in fairly near the front of it. It does make all the difference at the GNR. The further back you are, the more crowded the field is. I mean, it’s already crowded at this point, but nowhere near as bad as it will get further back.
So we’re past the fun bit and onto the beige bit. From here to the Coast, it’s dual carriagewaytasticwith lots of small climbs. Flat course my arse. However, it feels different this year. Easier? That’s a bit of a wanky word. More comfortable I would say. It doesn’t seem as hard work as usual. It’s mile 5 and…well…I think I might be enjoying the GNR again.
Despite the rain, the crowds as always are fantastic. They cheer you on, they spur you on, rain or shine, they’re out and they support everyone. I am biased, I was born and raised round here, but we’re great at this. Criticise the GNR all you want. It’s too expensive, yep. Too many people run it, yep. It’s too corporate, yep. They are always trying to find ways to fleece more money out of you by selling tat, yep, yep, yep.
But I will die on a hill defending it as the People’s race. Not just for the crowds, but also for those who take part. It’s the start of so many running journeys (mine included) and its importance to the North East can’t be underestimated. Is it a huge money-making machine? Absofuckinglutely. But I couldn’t give a shite.
Now I’ve got that off my chest, back to the run. My least favourite part of the course is coming up. Mile 9. Anyone who has ever run the GNR before will know this part of the course. It’s the start of the John Reid road. I’ve never really found out who John Reid is. Possibly a masochist if his road is anything to go by.
This is the part of the course where usually I tend to die a little. Physically and mentally. It will be the tester to see if I really am running as well as I think I am. It will be the part of the course that will let me know if I’m going to continue enjoying this till the end.
You take a right turn at the roundabout and suddenly you’re hitting the climb of John Reid road. It’s not a steep climb. It’s just long and constant. It’s a busy part of the course as well. Littered with water stations and toilets, you have to be careful dodging discarded bottles, as well as runners cutting across the course to grab a drink/take a shit. Basically, the Bigg Market on a Saturday night.
I decide to attack it. I know, what an idiot. However, that’s a good sign. I’m not as knackered as I usually am at this point. I start at the bottom. Feel good. Halfway up. I’m still feeling good. Get to the top. By cracky, I’m alive. Not just alive, like not really that tired. I’m going to enjoy the last 4 miles. I’m going to enjoy the GNR.
Even the climb up Prince Edward road before we drop onto the Coast, usually a real slog after the John Reid road has half killed me, is far more bearable than any previous year. I am feeling it a bit, I’m not going to lie. But it’s a good tired, not a fucked tired.
I drop on to the Sea front for the last mile and again, this is the best I’ve ever felt on this last stretch. I even up the pace a bit as I feel like I’ve got it in me. I get over the line in 1:53:47. The quickest I’ve ever run the GNR. I hit the real Half Marathon time in 1:52 ish. So all in all, a good day. I went out with a target pace of 8:40, I managed to keep it comfortable at 8:36.
Free photo tastic
Now to the most important bit. Eating my weight in shite at the Charity Tent. As always, they put on a cracking spread, and I don’t need a second invite to eat it. Race run. Money raised. Face filled. Job done.
I’m on the Ferry back before you know it and in the house before tea. It really couldn’t have worked out better or gone more to plan. Even my race pictures are pretty good this year. I especially like this one of me BEASTING it over the line at the end.
Beast
The only negative? It’s bound to be shitter next year.
‘Are you crying? Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? There’s no crying! THERE’S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!’
Jimmy Dugan, A League of Their Own
Last year’s post where I set my goals for 2023 got pretty deep and philosophical. You’ll be thankful to know there’ll be no such soppy nonsense this year. No, there’s no pissing about this year. After last years queuing up of Draft Posts I never published, this is New Year, New Me hun.
This year I’ve got a real dilemma. 2023 was an excellent year for my running, debatably my best. There is a danger I’ll fill 2024 with the kind of unrealistic bollocks that will take out the enjoyment, whilst setting me up to fail. I mean, where is the motivation in that?
No, this year we’re not going to be setting any high bars. We’re going to limbo into 2024, oiled up, bar on fire, with Cascada’s ‘Evacuate the Dancefloor’ blasting out. Or was that a dream I once had. It doesn’t really matter, the point is – Hopes and Expectations. Things I know are achievable, things I can look forward to doing with no pressure. No running up Mountains, across Deserts, and most importantly of all – no fucking Cross Country.
I give you then, drum roll please, the goals of 2024..
Run 1,000 miles – Having hit just shy of 1,400 in 2023, it would be tempting to have a go at 1,500 in 2024. I tried to work out how much more I would need to do per month to hit that. I think I worked out I would need to add on 12 miles a month. It doesn’t sound too much – break it down some more and it’s 3 more miles a week. But you know the problem? I can’t be arsed.
Run a Half Marathon – As I write, I’m yet to sign up for a Half Marathon. Shocking. I’m not sure why to be honest. I’ve usually got my Charity GNR place by now, but for some reason I’ve just not got round to it. I’m sure I will, let’s just wait for payday (£65 for place in the GNR, scandalous). I’m also flirting with Kielder again, but it went so well last year I worried that it will be shit and I’ll hate it if I do it again.
Run the Brampton to Carlisle 10 miler – The alternative to running a second Half Marathon, is to run this 10 mile race held in November. This one is very tempting, and I nearly did it last year, but was still half dead from Kielder. There are loads of pluses to this race. It’s a new run for me, it’s 10 miles rather than 13, my running club organise a bus there and back, my running club usually go to the pub straight after. I think I’ve probably already talked myself into this one if I’m honest.
Race in the Club Grand Prix – When I first found out my Running Club organised a Grand Prix every year, I was well up for it. Racing round the track at 200mph in a top of the range F1 car, what isn’t to like? Apparently, it’s not that kind of Grand Prix. 8 races run monthly from August to March, this is a well oiled machine of a competition where you compete in Teams of 8 and are handicapped based on your last result. The idea is that everyone finishes at about the same time, with the ‘slower’ runners released first, then the ‘faster’ ones let out to hunt everyone down last. I’m halfway through this years and I’ve enjoyed it far more than I thought. For those wanting to know, my Handicap is that I’m short and fat.
Run on Holiday – In May, I’m off to Zante. No, not Laganas for those of you who know it. I’m far too old for that nonsense. I’ve been to this resort a few times before, but not for a few years. Having successfully ran in Menorca twice, I’ve decided to do the same again in Greece. Well, that’s the plan. Mythos and Moussaka might kill the shit out of it. Just to add to this, I now travel with work (get me) and have been ramming my running gear into my overnight bag. Last year I got out for morning runs in London and Glasgow. I’m possibly, fingers crossed, off to Warsaw with work this year. If I do, you’ve guessed it, Google Maps and finding room for my Trainers…
Yoga Everyday – I’m not getting any younger. I creek. I make noises when I have to bend over to pick something up. Not just bone or joint noises, but noises with my mouth, like the noises my daughter used to make when she was a toddler and trying to concentrate on something. During the Pandemic I did what a lot of people did because they were bored and had too much time on their hands, I tried something new. My something new was Yoga. At first I was like Bambi on Ice, or Shola Ameobi if you ever saw him play (love you Shola). Once I got the hang of it though, I really saw the benefits. One of which was that I was far less sore, creeky, and injured. Now I’m not saying I don’t click like a snapped twig every time I reach for something in the cupboard, but it has definitely helped. Since then, I’ve tried to do Yoga as much as possible. So I’ve decided 2024 is the year of doing a bit every day. I’ll be like Stretch Armstrong by June. Ask your Dad.
Aaaaaaand we’re done. All very positive, all very achievable. Maybe not the Yoga, but God loves a trier.
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