“So far we’ve had a woman with no hair, a woman with no teeth, and a woman with hair on her teeth.”

Badvoc, Chelmsford 123

Monday 14th September – Despite yesterday’s Great North Run going far better than expected, or possibly feared, this morning my big toe on my left foot is sore.

I noticed it straight after the run to be honest. My toe nail was quite bruised and tender – probably caused by the distraction of strapping my other gammy foot, meaning I failed to put my sock or shoe or both on properly.

Bollocks.

Ok the plus side, the foot feels ok. Not 100% by any means, but no worse after its heroic efforts yesterday.

I’m missing out my weights session again today, with the plan to try and rest it and pick it up again later in the week.

Therefore today I’m doing NOWT. Well, I’m at work, but it’s a rest day.

Meanwhile, I continue to laugh at my algorithm popping up stories from run influencers who had shitters at the Great North Run because it was ‘too hot.’

I’ll say this one more time for those at the back – was it shite too hot. We’ve had a summer of unbearable heat. A summer you would/should have been training for this race.

Compared to that heat, this should have been a cake walk.

Cake run even.

Anyway, I’ll die on a hill defending the weather yesterday.

Tuesday 15th September – This will be the last Tuesday I have to complete a warm up before the session.

I get it in and all seems ok with the foot. Tonight the club session is ‘Ups and Downs.’ The idea being you go quicker for a few minutes, jog, quicker again for a certain amount of time and so on.

I decide to go with a group in my ability range who all did the Great North Run at the weekend.

Everyone is, as you would expect, a bit tired, therefore we all agree we’re going to take it easy.

I notice something might be a bit off when we start catching up with the faster group who set off in front of us.

It’s not a a good start.

This continues all the way through the session. We’re doing it far too fast. Even our recovery jogs – too fucking fast.

When we finish, I’m knackered. And my foot is niggling me again. I only have myself to blame. I should have slowed down and done my own thing.

Instead, I might have re-knackered myself.

Wednesday 16th September – It’s 6 easy tonight. And I will take it easy.

I set off and immediately there is a problem. And it’s not my right foot. It’s now my left one.

Plantar fasciitis.

You have got to be fucking joking me.

The combination of probably running the Great North Run too fast, and then my recovery last night also too fast, has given me Planter fucking fasciitis.

You idiot.

If it was physically possible, I would boot myself right up the arse at this point.

As well know with Plantar Fasciitis, it can be deceptive. As after about half a mile, it settles right down. But I know that means fuck all. Like Arnie, it will be back.

I finish up down the sea front and walk back home knowing this could be bad news.

Thursday 17th September – So now I have a quandary.

It’s my last Thresholds session, do I risk it? I’ve had Plantar Fasciitis before and it fucked off as quickly as it came, but it was because I rested it for a day or so.

I decide to do what I did last week. Head for the field, onto the grass, for these last Thresholds KMs.

I also decide to slow it right down. Like 15 seconds a mile right down.

Meanwhile, during the day at my desk I do the good old fashioned ‘roll it over a tennis ball’ trick. Fuck knows if it will help.

The run follows the pattern of last night. First half a mile is agony, then it settles.

I am, for once this fucking week, as sensible as I said I would be. I calm the pace right down. These are the slowest Thresholds I’ve compiled through the entire cycle.

When I get back, the heel is sore. Ironically, or almost comically, my right ankle has had a Lazarus back from the dead resurrection.

Or maybe my left is distracting it.

Friday 18th September – It’s hills day.

Again, like last week, I’m avoiding the big bastard ramp down the sea front that I’m supposed to do these on.

I’ve also now completely abandoned my Weights sessions.

It really is damage limitation now.

Instead, it’s back to 10 reps on the much easier path out of the old Quarry now Park.

Yep, first half a mile, pain.

The toddler stabiliser version of hill reps done, I finish my 4 miles down the sea front.

The heel is tender again when I’m done.

I roll it on a Tennis ball with a foreboding sense of doom.

Saturday 19th September – It never rains but pours.

I have one last long run to do – 14 miles – and I’m doing it this morning. Newcastle are at home later, so it was always the plan.

I think about changing it to tomorrow but, actually, I’d rather just get it down and then give myself an extra days rest going into my final week.

I’m up early, out, and the first half a mile is painful. Yup.

It then calms down.

At 9 miles, I can feel it a bit again – to the point it worries me a tiny bit and I slow down.

It seems to pass, and I push through the next 5 miles.

14 miles, done. Long stuff, done.

I should be celebrating, but I’m just relieved at this point. Actually, I’m not even that. With 8 days to go, I think I might be fucked.

To continue with my stupid bastard decisions this week, I head off to the match and end up getting a bit pissed.

That’s clever.

Sunday 20th September – Despite the being a bit pissed situation the day before, I’m wake up with no ill effects.

My heel however, is tender.

Therefore today I have announced to the house that I’m doing fuck all.

Tennis ball rolling and elevation. That’s it.

I have 7 days and 3 more runs to shake this shit off.

Shite.

Mood: Doomed.

“You notice I am walking very gingerly.”

Lieutenant Gruber, Allo Allo

Monday 7th September – After defying the odds and completing 20 miles with what I thought was an injured foot, I’m feeling like the cock of the north today.

The foot feels fine, the rough stuff is done, bring on the Marathon.

By early evening though, it’s all change. I do my 30 minute yoga and start to feel the foot again.

After that, I do my weights session and, dare I say it, I get the first ping of pain in it.

Bollocks.

In fact, before I head to bed that night I swear my ankle has swollen up a tiny bit. I can’t tell if I’m just imaging it or not.

Anyway, it’s not a great finish to the day and I’ve somehow managed to kick the confidence from yesterday out of myself.

To complicate matters, it’s the Great North Run on Sunday. I’m not planning to do nowt daft, but I was still planning on running it faster than a usual long run.

I just have to get there first.

Tuesday 8th September – Tonight is a track session. This should be interesting.

I head out for my warm up and everything feels ok. My head is not in a great place though. I’m worried that I’m going to get injured, worried that I’ll make things worse, so my mindset is just to make it through every run.

That’s not great. It means I’m not enjoying it, and it makes me tight and much harder work than it should be. I can’t relax, basically.

Tonight’s track is 1200m at 10k pace, a 200m jog, then 400m at 5k. Do this 4 times.

It’s hard work. Again, half of it is mental. Halfway round I can feel my Achilles grumbling. I actually think about calling it quits after the third set.

Instead, I grit it out and finish. At this point, I’m not sure what’s the worse – the foot or my head.

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

Wednesday 9th September – Despite last nights intense session, the foot feels ok.

One thing I will say at the moment, I’m sleeping like a baby. A baby that sleeps really well by the way.

The foot doesn’t bother me all morning and I do as little as possible on it, just sitting at my desk and working.

By lunchtime though, it’s back to niggling me again. I pop on the strapping, take some ibuprofen, and by mid afternoon it’s eased.

However, such is the rollercoaster ride of this fucking injury, it’s bothering me again when it’s time to go out for my easy 6 miles.

I get out and I’m not 100% comfortable from the start, or at any point during the run to be honest.

By the end, the foot feels a bit sore and for the first time I’m worried. When I get in, I do some stretching and foam rolling and just get into bed.

I take a good proper look at it for the first time , even popping my phone light on, and I can’t see any bruising or any obvious swelling. It may be swollen a tiny bit, but if it is, it’s not noticeable.

The most bizarre thing with this is, who knows what will be like tomorrow. Normal, hopefully.

Thursday 10th September – At least the Thursday Thresholds are calming down a bit. Although, it still three lots of 4km (that’s 3 x 2.49 miles if you’re an old bastard like me).

3km of that is at Threshold, 1km at Marathon pace.

I’m going to let my foot ‘breath’ for as long as possible today. So not strap it. I don’t think it’s helping to strap it up when not running.

I’m also going to do the session on a local sports field. So completely on the grass. This is in the hope that staying off the road will mean less impact.

I’ve no idea what I’m doing, to be honest.

The field is around a Km in circumference. It’s a field we do club sessions on during the light summer evenings.

It’s usually a busy field during this time, with lots of football training sessions going on.

Now we’re in September, it’s dead. Not a soul on it except dog walkers here and there.

I set off and right away I realise this genius idea of mine is actually going to be massively fucking tedious.

Between reps and recoveries, I reckon this will be about 12 or 13 laps around the field.

It’s also quite windy, which is not great on here, as it’s hugely exposed.

The first set of thresholds go ok. I make good pace (too fucking fast again) and the foot is ok.

Second set is a struggle. I feel like my Achilles is grumbling, plus the monotony of the laps is fucking with my head.

It’s during this set that I make an executive decision to not do my hill reps tomorrow. Or my weights session. Nor do a shake out on Saturday.

With the Great North Run in mind, it’s become clear that I need to rest this foot. Get through tonight, then do nowt for a couple of days.

After I’ve made that decision, the third set goes quite well and I get through it with some sort of second wind.

I’ve done 10 miles by the time so get back, which is not bad at all for someone with an alleged gammy foot.

Nearly there I tell myself. Nearly there.

Friday 11th September – True to my word, I don’t run today. Or do my weights session.

The foot has probably bothered me more today than ever. But, again, it comes and goes in waves, and it’s still not what I would class as pain.

I pop to the shop at lunch time and it my Achilles does feel a bit stiff and achy though.

In the evening, I head out to the Pasta Party for the charity I’m running the Great North Run for.

It’s a local Hospice, one I’ve ran the last 13 for, and it’s a lovely evening. It’s nice to meet other runners, hear their stories and so on.

We also do a bit of yoga with a local instructor which I enjoy.

My foot feels a little out of sorts when I get back, but I’m glad I skipped the hills today. I just hope things start to settle down after tomorrow. I’m starting to feel a little bit worried…

Saturday 12th September – Today I plan to do as little as possible. Originally, the plan was to do a gentle 4 mile this morning, to make it a 17 mile weekend.

I knocked that on the head on Thursday night, and so stick with it. The only physical activity I plan to do today is a tidy up of the front garden.

I also elevate my leg when I can. This seems to help. Unfortunately, idle hands make the devils work, and I start Googling what might be wrong with my foot.

All this does is make me more paranoid and convinced that I’m actually fucked, that it’s now inevitable that either in the lead up to the Marathon or on the day itself. I’m going to rupture something.

Sunday 13th September – It’s Great North Run day.

This year, I’m not going to bore anyone with a full race review. The only goal of today is to run well and survive.

So with that in mind, let’s just pick up the highlights.

• With a mixture of drugs and strapping, the foot behaves itself. It’s a good job they don’t want my piss for a drugs test though.
• Some boomer took a piss on me in the Pen.
• I high fived Dan Burn.
• Half way round I high fived a young kid in a s*underland shirt and shouted ‘WHEEEY I’VE TOUCHED DAN BURN!’
• Apparently it was ‘hot.’ Hot? Pah! See my post about my week of running hell in Menorca. Hot my arse.
• I set out to run a flat 8 minute pace all the way round. In the end, I did a 7:56 pace and finished in a course PB of 1:44:45
• I felt comfortable as fuck all the way round. In fact, I’ve never felt so comfortable running the GNR before.
• Most of the Pen passed me in the first mile. Then from mile 6 onwards, I started picking them off like a sniper.
• A BOOMER PISSED ON ME IN THE PEN

So, a good day all in all. Apart from the pissing incident.

After all the drama, worry, and sleepless nights of the week, I made it and it couldn’t have gone better.

The real test is how my foot feels tomorrow.

2 weeks to go. Hang on in there foot.

Mood: Not hot.

“I’ve not got much to show for my time on this Earth, John. 36 pairs of shoes and a set of Babyliss crimpers.”

Kayleigh, Car Share

Monday 31st August – It’s a Bank Holiday Monday as well as the last day of summer. Allegedly.

After the slightly dramatic 20 miler yesterday, I was half expecting to wake up sore. Instead, I feel fat.

I spent most of yesterday, post run, eating. Just grazing on shite. As such, I feel podgy and like I’m carrying a sack of spuds in my midriff.

My usual virtual yoga class is not on later as it’s the Bank Holiday, so I do around 30 mins in the morning.

I then do my weighs session just before lunch and feel a tiny bit less rotund.

Being a Bank Holiday and the end of summer, it pisses down with rain most of the day. Course it does.

Tuesday 1st September – September has arrived and suddenly the Marathon is very real, despite it still being over 3 weeks away.

It’s also Race 1 of my clubs Winter Grand Prix this evening, if you wanted any more reminder that summer is over.

My plan is to do a 4 mile warm, run the 10k race at a fast but not eye balls out pace, then get a lift back.

So I’ll have hit my ten miles, with a bit of intense stuff thrown in.

I set off on my warm up run and it’s all good. Then around half a mile from the finish, an old friend appears, like the ghost of Christmas past.

My grumbling Achilles.

Last seen making a nuisance of itself in the halcyon days of 2022, it’s decided to make a guest appearance minutes before a 10k race and 3 weeks before a Marathon.

If this was a soap opera, it would be like a presumed dead spouse turning up at a wedding.

For fucks sake.

This is all I need. So far, it’s just a feeling – I’m not in pain, it’s just doing its usual grumbling. But once, in 2018, that grumbling turned into a tear where it felt like I’d be stabbed.

I was planning on ‘racing’ this tonight, but nowt daft. I did a 45 minute finish last year, and have improved on that massively since. So I’m going to aim for that again – quick but not too quick.

There isn’t much to say about this race. I stick to a 7:20 pace pretty much throughout and clock a 45:29. So, spot on with what I wanted to do.

My Achilles also feels ok. I still have ‘that’ feeling, but it never bothered me, and it isn’t bothering me now.

However, after I get home and have something to eat, I start to feel it. Again, it’s just a feeling, but it’s not right.

Not great, but not a disaster just yet. Tomorrow I’ll get myself a tube support and see how it feels. If I need to rest, I rest.

Bollocks.

Wednesday 2nd September – As predicted, my Achilles is stiff when I get up. I said Achilles, you filthy minded harlots.

It’s not painful though. It’s still just a ‘feeling’ that something isn’t quite right.

I pop to the Chemists on my break and get a tube support. I feel much better when I get it on, even if it is psychological.

Or maybe it’s the Ibuprofen I’m popping. Either way.

When I head out, it’s raining. And I mean proper pissing down. So much so, I pop on my base layer for the first time in forever. Summer is over kids.

I start to run and the leg feels ok. The only weirdness is from wearing a strap again.

I distracted by the rain as well. It really is raining hard and I’m getting soaked. This is what it’s all about – soaking wet and with a sore Achilles. Proper running.

I get round with no problems until the very last 0.10 and the Achilles starts to grumble. Just a little reminder, if needed, not to think this is all solved with strapping and drugs.

Bollocks.

Tomorrow is thresholds. That will test it. Unfortunately.

Thursday September 3rd – I was expecting to wake up with either a stiff or sore Achilles, but neither of these things happen.

It feels more comfortable than yesterday, but still not right. I did foam roll a bit last night, and plan to do that throughout the day.

Tonight is 3 x 3 miles of thresholds, 2 miles of each at threshold pace, 1 mile of each at marathon pace. So far less intense than previous weeks, but not a cake walk.

Foot strapped up, more as a comfort blanket thing than a necessity, I set out.

We’re expecting rain again, but so far it’s dry. I do the usual threshold route along the coast to Blyth, turning at the farm.

However, I stay on the main road rather than through the dunes. I want to try and avoid the up and downs. Hills aren’t great on the Achilles, so I’m playing safe.

Once I get going, the foot doesn’t bother me. The run would have actually gone perfectly, had it not pissed down with rain again on the last mile. I get soaked again.

Actually, that’s not true. I go to take an Electrolyte gel before I turn and drop it on the ground. No problem, I’ll just pick it up.

I rip the top of it off, squeeze to pop it in my mouth, and it all explodes on me from the bottom. It must have popped when I dropped it. Fucks sake.

On the plus side though, this is the last threshold session that involves miles. The last two are back to Kms. A sign that we’re nearly there.

Friday September 4th – The foot feels less Achilles now and more ankle. It feels like when you sprain your ankle but it was weeks ago, if that makes sense.

It’s hills today but I’m again going to err on the side of caution. Rather than do the hill reps on the massive ramp on the prom, I’m going to do a much gentler one in my local park, which is an old reclaimed Quarry.

Again, once I get out, the foot feels fine – even on the hills.

I’ve now done three runs on it, two of them quite intense ones, and it seems to be coping. Hopefully, it stays as a niggle and nothing else. Thoughts and prayers.

Saturday 5th September – Maranoia has set in today as look to tomorrow’s 20 mile run.

To make things worse, Newcastle are at home, so I won’t have a chance to give my foot a real rest.

It’s an early kick off and ends 2-2. Aware of what I need to do tomorrow, I curb my drinking after the match and get back for tea time.

When I get back, I note that the ankle is a little bit tender. There is no bruising or swelling, but definitely tenderness.

I have an early night and prepare myself mentally that I might not get through the 20 in the morning.

Maybe I should have stayed in the pub.

Sunday 6th September – It’s the day of judgement. Can my ankle/tendon/whatever hold up and survive 20 miles.

I’m up early and it feels ok – still no pain, swelling or bruising.

Having said that, I was awoken at around 3am by what felt like a cramp in the back of my leg that seemed to rattle right up my Achilles.

It was over quickly, but it’s not a good sign, I’ll be honest.

It’s a nice morning and it’s not raining. Summer is over and a sign of this is that I’m out just before sunrise for once.

Within the first mile, I get feel the foot. Great.

However, it soon settles down and I get into my pace and rhythm.

It’s my usual route and everything is going fine. No pain, no niggling.

At 15 miles I feel a slight pain in my calf. However, I think this is just the support digging in.

I obviously get a bit paranoid about it, but it soon passes and I complete the 20.2 miles in 2:57:03.

The weirdest thing is, not only did the foot feel fine, it feels fanfuckingtastic the rest of the day.

Somehow, I’ve got through the week. That’s the last ‘heavy’ week, now three weeks of slightly lower milage and intensity.

Hopefully, that means whatever is going on with my foot will ease as well.

I’m not counting any chickens though.

Mood: Phew

“Mine’s tiny. It’s like a cat’s anus.”

Jill, Nighty Night

Monday 10th August – It’s my final full day in Menorca before flying home tomorrow morning.

As it’s Monday, I could just sit back and do nowt today. But what would be the fun in that?

Instead, I’ve decided to get out for one last bonus run. A no pressure, nice and slow 5k. 

True to form for the week, it’s hot and humid, another 27c pre-sunrise. I’m up on the flat top road as usual, but when I get to the point where I usually turn, I take a left down towards the sea. 

I stay on this bottom road for around half a mile, then head back to the start. I was hoping this last one would be a lot easier – shortest one since I’ve been out here, finally acclimatised to the heat.

But no. It’s hard work, and you can’t take the northern lad out of the north and plonk him onto a Mediterranean island at the height of summer and expect running miracles. 

Last run done, I have a chilled final day of my holiday, relaxing by the pool with several ice cold Estrellas. Lovely.

Tuesday 11th August – The worst part of any holiday, by a huge margin, is travelling home.

It’s awful isn’t it? At least when you travel out, you have the excitement of going on holiday and the knowledge that your final destination is going to be great.

Travelling back, all you want to do is be back home. The bus and the flights and the taxi are just the massive ball ache in-between. 

Having said that, our return home goes by without incident. We’re slightly delayed on the tarmac in Menorca there’s a bit of a traffic jam in the skies over Europe, but I’m back in our house before 2pm.

Therefore, I’m back in plenty of time to attend the Club Session that evening. I head out at 6pm to get my warm up in and it’s BLISS. It’s around 20c (we’ve come back to a heat wave) but the difference in the heat and the air from Menorca is like night and day. 

It’s the most comfortable run I’ve done in 12 days. 

Tonight is a track session, so I get in my 5 mile warm up and finish at the club house. Lots of pre-session chatter revolves around the weather and how hot it is. Usually I would agree, but I’ve just spent the week running in an oven, so I just smile and nod.

The track session begins and there’s no hiding. A quick 1km, followed by 8 lots of 300m, before finishing off with another 1km. I kick away at the end of the final 1km and feel great. 

No holiday hangover. I finish off with a few recovery jogs to hit my 10 mile for the evening.

It’s like I’ve never been away.

Wednesday 12th August – I’m off work the rest of the week, so have a bit more time on my hands. 

I’m still not going to get out for my easy 6 till the evening though. I am however going to do a Weights session at lunch time. 

Whilst I got my Yoga in last week, it wasn’t logistically possible to do any weights. Not unless you count me picking up pints. So this is the first one in a while.

It’s warm today, so it is a bit of a slog, and I probably don’t do this at the effort I usually do.

Later on, I head out for my run down the wagonway. I get out a little earlier than usual – not just because I have more time, but also because the UK is due to have a partial eclipse this evening.

It’s warm, but again it’s heaven compared to last week. 

I get back for the partial eclipse…whereby a big cloud sticks itself in front of it.

Such is life.

Thursday 13th August – The one session I escaped last week was the Thresholds.

I’ve called myself a masochist many times on this blog, but I wasn’t bonkers enough to start sprinting around in the heat of the Med.

We are now in yet another UK heatwave, and it’s 26c this evening. However, the difference between the 26c here and the Menorcan one is huge. The air is just so much fresher back here. I can actually breathe.

If I want a test to see if I’ve lost any fitness, then this is it. 4 x 2 miles at Threshold pace. Oof.

Thankfully, I don’t have to think too hard or plan for the route. I know that if I head out North on the coast, turn at the farm on the dunes, then head back, I’ll finish at the Spanish City having got in all the Thresholds and recoveries. 

It’s warm as I set off, but cloudy, which is helpful. The pesky sun always makes things that little bit harder. However, I find the heat doesn’t affect me at all. I may have found a positive from running in that oven in Menorca – in that the heat here now affects me far less.

I reckon had I done this run 2 weeks ago, I’d be blowing out my backside and the heat would be getting to me. Not tonight though. 

Whilst this is hard going (this is a threshold session, after all) I’m not being affected by the heat at all. It feels like it could be 16c rather than 26c.

I get them done and have a sit on the links for 5 minutes. I say it every week, but this is the most satisfying session of the week. Hard work, but important. I know from others training for a Marathon that this is the one that people tend to skip if they’re not feeling it. I’m just happy to get another one in the bank.

Friday 14th August – As per usual on a Friday, my legs are a bit heavy today. So again, despite being off work, I’m going to rest as long as possible then do my session in the evening.

I do complete my Weights Session as normal at lunch time. It’s a little easier than Wednesday, but I feel back in the swing of it after taking the week off.

It’s the last day of the mini ‘heat wave’ and I head out for my easy 4 with hill reps.

It’s good to be back on the prom ramp that I usually do these, but I had forgotten just how tough this is. When I look at last week, I think I probably sand bagged the two hill sessions and didn’t do much of a hill on either occasion. I was hot and jut anted to survive to be honest.

Hills done, I’m now well back in the swing of things and it’s like I’ve never been away.

Saturday 15th August – Today is a rest day, but I end up doing very little of that.

First up, it’s Parkrun. I’m back volunteering and they’ve put me on Token Support. Sounds easy enough. 

Until I get there and they hand me a giant tied shoelace of 700 Parkrun tokens. My job is to hand small batches of these to the two volunteers giving these out to runners. And not to drop them. 

The not to drop them part is key. And also comes with pressure, as I’m clumsy as hell.

We’ve also got the added stress of trying a double funnel for the first time ever. Whitley Bay Parkrun is fairly popular now. On a bad day you’ll still get 500+ turn out. For the one Great North Run weekend, they hit nearly a thousand. 

So we’re trying the double funnel. 

I’m happy to report that all goes well. The funnel works, I don’t drop the tokens. Everyone is happy. Phew.

In the afternoon I pop to watch North Shields FC at home. It’s a lovely day, pleasant without being too warm, so I get off the Metro at Tynemouth and walk there.

Shields get beat 2-0, then I decide it’s such a nice afternoon, and I’m feeling so good, I’ll walk back home.

This seems like a good idea at the time..

Sunday 16th August – It’s the return of the long run. It’s been 2 and a bit weeks since I last went long. That was 22 miles however, and it went well.

Today, it’s just the 18 miles.

I’m going back to my tried and tested route, along a bit of the coast, inland heading towards the city, then turn and back via the Wagonways.

It’s perfect running conditions. 12c and cloudy, no wind. Beautiful.

I set my pace, hit it, and get the 18 done. However, it’s leggy and slightly harder work than usual. I think I’m paying for yesterday. I was on my feet far too much, the big walk I did in the afternoon especially was probably a bad idea.

Despite stretching straight after, my legs feel heavy and tired the rest of the day. Lesson learnt. Don’t overdo it the day before.

In the evening I’m back as guest on the Snot Rocket Podcast. We have a massive laugh recording, and it’s a great way to finish off my time off from work.

I note that today is also exactly 6 weeks to the Marathon.Time flies when you’re allegedly having fun.

Mood: Cooler. Much cooler.

“The respectful goat doesn’t fart in front of the chief”

Michael, Desmond’s

Monday 27th July – It’s the start of a slightly modified week of marathon training. In fact, the next two weeks are going to go slightly off plan. I’m away on a family holiday to Minorca early on Saturday morning. That’s great, and I’m really looking forward to it. However, the weather is forecast to be a constant 34°C, and the beer cold. It could get rough.

Let’s worry about that next week, though.

It does leave me with one slight predicament: what to do about this week’s long run on Sunday. Eighteen miles in the heat on my second day there? No thanks. Therefore, I’ve taken Friday off work to get this in, which means rejigging the week slightly.

So, today I’m doing what should be my Wednesday recovery run (thankfully, for one week only, cut down from six miles to four). Tomorrow will be the normal club session, Wednesday will be thresholds, rest on Thursday, and the long run on Friday. Then, on Sunday morning, instead of going big, I’ll do my four miles easy with hill reps.

Confused? You will be.

After my epic 20 yesterday, I feel surprisingly great today. No niggles, no real tiredness. I get my weights session and my four mile easy run done with no problems at all. Too easy. I can’t help feeling that impending doom is only around the corner.

Tuesday 28th July – It’s been one of those days where the heat has got to me. It’s only in the low 20s, but the air is warm, dry, and a bit draining. I woke up with a headache as well, which sits there all day as a dull ache despite taking painkillers.

It’s a track session tonight and, even though I’ve read it half a dozen times, I have no idea what we’re doing. Something to do with running flat out for seven minutes on the track, then five minutes slow on the field next to it, then back to three minutes on the track, or something. I’m sure it’ll make sense on the night.

I do a five mile warm-up, and the legs feel a little tired.

The track session ends up being great. I stick with someone far smarter than me who seems to know what’s going on, and we get it done. I quite enjoy it, actually. Maybe because it’s something a bit different that we haven’t done before, and maybe because it also seems to pass quickly.

Wednesday 29th July – Wednesdays are the new Thursdays, just for one week.

Mercifully, they’re also not that intense tonight. The session has dropped down to 4 x 2 miles, all at marathon pace, with no threshold pace involved. So that’s a couple of miles less to run, and slower.

Lovely.

The legs are still a bit tired, but this ends up being quite an enjoyable run. It’s a lovely evening: warm without being too warm, overcast, with a small breeze coming from the west, so it’s never in my face.

Once I run myself into it, I feel good. I’ve reached a stage where I can run through the tiredness, but I’m never knackered or close to exhaustion. I finish on the seafront, take in the breeze, and still can’t help but think that impending doom is about to turn up.

Thursday 30th July – As I’m running long tomorrow, this is my rest day. The only thing I do is my weights session at lunchtime.

My plan has my long run down as 18 miles this week. Next Sunday, when I’m in Menorca, I’m supposed to do 22. It’s actually the peak distance in the entire plan.

Let’s be honest, that isn’t going to happen.

Therefore, I make a rather bold decision: I’m going to do the 22 tomorrow. I’ll need to do it at some point, and I’d rather just get it done a week early. As I’ve said, next week is a complete unknown in terms of what I can and can’t get done.

Fuck it.

Let’s just do it.

Friday 31st July – I’m up early and the weather is looking like it’s going to do me a favour for the second Sunday in a row.

No rain this time, but a perfect 9°c and dull when I set off, with no noticeable wind. As this is a week day morning, I’m going to be doing a completely different route than the usual.

Bizarrely, my 22 miler last year was also done on a Friday rather than the weekend, that time caused by Newcastle’s Cup Final and me being in London getting absolutely rat arsed

So I’m just going to do that one again.

It’s actually a slightly tougher route as well. Quite a bit of climb on it, especially in the early part.

The first 3 and a half mile is pretty much all climb. I keep my Marathon pace though, before dropping back down towards the coast at around mile 4.

From here, I’m going to head along to Tynemouth (which I hit at around 8 and a half miles) before heading all the way along the coast to Blyth – approx another 8 miles – then turning for 5 miles to the finish.

A nice, safe, quiet, no roads to cross tried and tested many times coastal bit of miles.

I’m going to keep this short and sweet – this goes perfectly. I keep Marathon pace (in fact, I go faster than it), fuel consistently, never hitting any kind of wall or real tiredness.

When I finish, the legs are a bit tired, but I’m not knackered.

In fact, I so unknackered, I even have enough energy to drop our cases off and check them in at the airport to save us having to do it at 3am.

Saturday 1st August – We’re all up early for a 3am departure to the Airport.

Sportingly, my sister in law has agreed to drop us off.

I’m not sure about you dear reader, but I hate travelling. It’s a pain in the arse, but a necessary evil of you want to go somewhere nice.

However, despite our worst fears, I have probably the most stress free air travel experiences ever.

Bags already checked in, we sail through Security, the flight is on time, we get through Passport control in Minorca quickly, and we’re at our accommodation, cold pint in hand, by lunch time.

I bet it’s a fucking nightmare on the way back.

Sunday 2nd August – It’s the first morning in Minorca and I’m up early.

We have amazing air con in our apartment. So good, that it’s fucking freezing when I get up.

Hey, maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all? I open the patio door, step outside, and…it feels like I’ve stepped into an oven.

Fuck me.

It’s 6:30am and it’s 26°c.

And the sun hasn’t even come out yet.

Fuck me.

Don’t worry though, I got this. Thanks to Google Maps and having far too much time on my hands, I’ve found a flat (ish) safe long road right next to our apartments.

In fact, it’s exactly a mile end to end.

My recce also told me there are quite a few hills and ups and downs in the resort. Nothing that would bother me too much at home, but in this heat? Proper energy suckers.

So the long road it is.

I get going, and within the first few minutes I know that the week ahead is definitely not going to be following the plan.

The air is hot, thick, and energy sapping.

It’s going to be difficult to do any kind of intense fast stuff in this, and the thought of going ‘long’ just seems nigh on impossible.

Today is just about getting in 4 miles with hill reps. On the plus side, the road is looking promising. It is flat, maybe a slight climb at either end of it, and it’s wide and safe from traffic. Having said that, what traffic?

I’m on a quiet resort on a quiet island. I see about half a dozen cars all morning.

I’m doing my usual pace for this but it’s hard work. I think that this will have to drop a fair bit if I want to survive the week.

I do feel quite good though. I get the hill reps done, head back along the road, then drop down to the beach front for the finish.

Phew.

When I finish, I’m very hot. The sun has come out now and it makes it feel much hotter than when I first came out.

First run survived, it’s going to be an interesting week of running.

And by interesting, I mean fucking hellish.

Mood: Already hot.

“Is it too late to kill my stepfather?”

Danny Dallas, Soap

Monday 20th July

I am tired today. Real can’t-be-arsed tiredness, both physically and mentally. Legs heavy, brain foggy. I felt it coming on yesterday evening. I even got a decent night’s sleep as well.

I’m feeling so leggy that I’m not looking forward to the lunchtime weights session. However, once I start, I get somewhat of a second wind. It’s not that bad, and I seem to fly through it.

After lunch, though, another dip.

Then news comes in that Kevin Keegan has died. To all of us in this part of the world, it’s like the Pope has died. I feel very sad, although I can’t help thinking that part of that may be because he’s someone from my past who reminds me of my dad. It’s like re-grief, or something.

Doing my yoga cheers me up a little. There’s nothing like a bit of routine to help you get through any trauma. By the end of the day, though, I really am spent and flat.

Tuesday 21st July

I feel less tired today and really get stuck into work. I was massively unproductive yesterday and, as someone who works fully remotely, I feel a lot of guilt if I don’t think I’ve put in a proper shift.

The day flies by and then it’s time for the club session. For the first time in what seems like ages, we’re doing a session on the “Field of Dreams”. That sounds quite exciting, but it’s basically a local sports field that everyone has named ironically, as most people hate any training we do here.

It’s just over a kilometre in circumference, and whatever kind of session we do here always involves going round and round and round it. We come here during the summer as the coast can get quite busy and we end up pissing people off.

I personally have a love-hate relationship with it. Sessions here are tough, but I’m convinced that the monotony of lapping the field is inadvertently helping with our mental strength. Or it’s punishment.

I do a five-mile warm-up on the way there and the legs are still a bit, well, leggy. It’s a lovely summer evening: warm but not too warm, with a bit of a cooling breeze in the air.

We’re doing “Mystery Fartleks”. The idea is that we’ll run as a group and a different person will take the lead and push the pace. They can push it for as long as they want, anywhere between 30 seconds and six minutes, the idea being that they don’t tell the rest of the group. That’s the mystery bit.

When someone is done, we jog easy for a minute, then the next person takes over. We do that for 30 minutes.

This session is always tough. There’s something uncomfortable about trying to keep up when you don’t know when you’re going to stop.

Having said that, when you’re the leader and in control, it’s suddenly really easy.

When I lead, I have no idea of time, so I tend to pick a tree or a corner in the distance that I know will be around a couple of minutes away.

One of the group does the full six minutes.

Fuck my life.

Although it does eat into our 30 minutes, so fair play.

I’m knackered at the end, but I know it’s one of those sessions that’s done me the world of good. Fartleks and thresholds are hard work, but good work.

That’s what I’ll keep telling myself anyway.

Wednesday 22nd July

I get one of the best night’s sleeps I’ve had in a while. I put this down to a couple of reasons, mainly that our cat stayed out all night and didn’t wake us up.

He’s a sociopath, our cat.

But he doesn’t wander in until 7am today, which means I get a respite from waking up in the dead of night to find him sitting on my head.

Newcastle have set up a shrine for Keegan at the ground, so I’ve decided to go there straight after work and leave one of my old scarves. I can then incorporate my six easy miles on the way back, probably getting off the Metro early and running home.

It’s a sombre but respectful mood at the ground. There is quite a crowd, a real mix of young and old, men and women.

There are all sorts of tributes, mostly shirts, scarves and flowers. Although I do give a wry chuckle to the box of Special K someone has left.

I tie my scarf to one of the railings on the stairs, then pop in to sign the book of condolence. I’ve no idea what to write, so I just put:

“Thanks for the memories. Always our Number 7.”

Wanky guff, but I was put on the spot.

I take the opportunity to visit my dad. Well, a memorial stone we had placed in front of the Milburn Stand after he died. I give it a quick wipe, tell him I’m alright, then head back off to the Metro.

Re-grief, I told you.

I’ve figured out that if I get off at Palmersville Station, that’ll be around six-ish miles back home. The first mile involves climbing a fairly steep hill, but it takes me to a bridge over the A19 rather than the flatter route, which would involve negotiating a very busy roundabout.

The death of Keegan and thoughts of my dad have really triggered the nostalgia in me this evening.

The hill I’ve climbed takes me into Killingworth Village, and from here the view reveals a lot of ghosts from my past.

In the distance I can see the remains of Fenwick Pit, where my grandfathers and great-uncles sweated out a hard living. I can see Shiremoor, where my dad and a lot of my mam’s family originally came from. I can see the sea and the Cheviots on the horizon.

All that’s missing is some Elgar.

I cut through the Lonnen and the fields next to where I grew up. I used to play with my mates around here as a kid, and the nostalgia is now completely overwhelming.

I’m not really a crier, thankfully, or I’d be in trouble at this point.

By the time I get back home, I notice I’ve overshot by about a mile. Seven instead of six.

It’s been a strange evening and a strange run. But rather than ending it sad, I feel happy.

Proud of where I’ve come from. Proud of all those before me who grafted to give me the opportunities I have today.

I’m going to Poland to run a marathon.

My grandad would have thought I was going to the Moon.

Thursday 23rd July

After the emotional rollercoaster that was Wednesday, we’re hit with the reality of Threshold Thursday.

This is a repeat of last week: five times two miles, except it’s going to be warmer.

I also feel drained today. I’m not sure whether it’s physically drained or emotionally drained, but the legs are heavy.

I spend the day getting as much energy into me as possible before heading out the door at about six-ish.

I do the same route as last time: warm up to the local estate for the start of the first rep, then head down to the seafront.

The paces are also the same as last week. First mile at a fast threshold pace, second mile at slower marathon pace. Each is followed by a two-minute recovery, which can either be static or a slow jog.

I always choose the jog, as I’m crap at starting fast again after coming to a complete standstill. I’d much rather keep moving.

I’m heading further north up the coast than last week, and it’s warm.

I complete rep three as I hit Blyth Battery and turn back south, whereupon I’m immediately blasted with a headwind.

Where the hell did that come from?

As with any headwind, it makes things hard work. In fact, for the first time in the seven weeks so far, I’m feeling tired.

Not to the point where I want or need to stop. More that I just want the session to be over.

I battle through the fourth rep before a surprising second wind appears from nowhere during the fifth and final one.

I finish tired and have to lie down on the grass for a bit.

This has probably been the hardest session of the plan so far, but it’s done. It’s one of those sessions we’re supposed to bottle and remember if we ever need to dig deep later on.

Friday 24th July

Today I feel exactly as I thought I might: heavy-legged. I would have been shocked if I’d felt any other way, to be honest. My lunchtime weights session is a bit of a slog, but it gets done.

I head out in the evening for my four easy miles and hill reps, and the legs really are feeling it now. Even before I reach the ramp where I’ll be doing the reps, I hit a very slight incline and feel like I’m struggling to get up it. That’s not a great sign.

Expecting the worst and hoping for the best, I get to the ramp and start the reps. They actually goOK. It seems to pass quickly, and the legs find something to get me through. This is what marathon training is all about though: pushing through on tired legs.

Saturday 25th July

It’s rest day, which also means parkrun volunteering day. I’m back on funnel duty, and the weather is much warmer than last week, although unseasonably windy. And when I say windy, I mean windy.

At one point, my hat flies off, and only a wall stops it from meeting a watery grave or being carried off on the current to Denmark.

Unlike last week, this one passes without incident. We have around 100 fewer finishers this week as well, which helps. I’m starting to get the hang of this funnel stuff now. I think I’ve perfected the tone needed to get runners to hurry through the funnel whilst simultaneously praising them for a job well done.

Aware that tomorrow is a 20-miler, I do as little as possible for the rest of the day. I sort out a bit of gardening, pruning and weeding, but that’s about it. After stuffing my face with pasta, I get an early night and set my alarm for 5:20am.

Saturday nights in your 40s, eh?

Sunday 26th July

I’ve been a little nervous about this long run. It’s 20 miles, the longest so far, but also the first time I’ve gone 20 or over since the marathon 13 months ago.

I did 18.2 miles a couple of weeks back, so technically all I need to find is another 1.8 miles in the legs. Hardly a massive jump, but psychologically this is a really important run. If I can complete a nice, steady, dare I use the word comfortable, 20 miles at my marathon target pace today, then my confidence going into the second half of training will be massive. If I struggle at all, self-doubt will creep in.

It’s a fine line we’re walking. Or preferably running.

The other factor at play here is that I’m going away on holiday for 10 days next week. I’m off to Menorca, where the temperature continues to sit around 30-35°C most days. As much as I’m taking my running gear and attempting to keep my plan going, I’m also not completely nuts. I already fear the weather will defeat me while I’m away, but knowing I’m on track will mean I don’t mope about it.

I’m up early as planned, and it’s raining. It feels like it hasn’t rained in ages, not properly anyway. It’s forecast to rain all day (and it actually gets worse and heavier in the afternoon), and I’m quite pleased. It’s still going to be warm-ish, and with the heat we’ve had lately, it’ll make a pleasant change.

I do, therefore, make sure I smear myself in anti-chafing cream. It’s perfect chafing weather, so I’m taking no chances.

I’m soaked through within the first two miles, and it’s glorious.

I’m doing my original 20-mile training run from last year, so I drop down onto the coast where it’s much quieter than usual. It seems those Instagram “runners” won’t be getting their sunrise shot in this rain and gloom, so they’ve stayed away.

This is also going to be a dry run (pardon the pun) for a slight change in my fuelling, as I’m now going to incorporate my accidental electrolytes. So far, so good.

The legs are good, the evil seagulls are now chill, the rain is light and intermittent, and my pace is spot on.

I turn at about 11 miles and feel a little fatigue for the first time. However, it doesn’t stick around for long, and I’m fairly comfortable all the way home. Possibly too comfortable.

My last seven miles are all under my target pace. In one way that’s good. It shows I’m certainly not struggling and that the training is doing its job. But in another, I need to show a bit more self-control. I’ve set a target pace and I need to stick to it. I still have another six miles to find on race day, and I don’t want to blow up because I’ve gone too fast.

I end up completing 20.3 miles in 2:59:09.

There’s another little psychological boost there: 20 miles in under three hours.

My fuelling has gone well, I’m tired without being completely knackered, and I have NO CHAFING.

I’m absolutely delighted.

I had a plan, and I’ve executed it perfectly. In fact, I’ve gone slightly faster than anticipated.

And do you know how I celebrate for the rest of the day?

I do NOTHING.

Mood: Fuck yeah

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

Bren, Dinnerladies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mood: Chaff free