Finishing the London Marathon 2012

London is a spectacular marathon to run. The sights, the crowds and an incredibly upbeat atmosphere. This year, I was lucky enough to be only 20-25 seconds behind the Elite men crossing the start line, meaning I saw them sprint off at the gun and was left in awe, knowing that they'd keep that blistering pace up for the duration.

As for my start, well, it's worth noting that the first half of London is where all the downhill bits are, and having looked across several people's times, very few of the elites appear to have managed a negative split, which says something. You drop about 150 feet in the first 4-5 miles and that, combined with the usual setting off too fast, meant the first several miles were quick. 7:05-7:15 per mile quick!

About 3 miles in, clocking a 22 minute 5km, I knew the pace was too quick to sustain so I eased off the hammer a bit, but not too much. I also felt that there was no way I'd sustain it, but I then thought how will I ever know and, isn't it all just psychological anyway?

Another factor was the additional 1% drift mileage (that's my term, it's not official), caused by straying from the blue racing line. It meant that my minute mile-ing needed to be about 5 seconds quicker than planned, so my 7:25 goal suddenly needed to become 7:20 on my Garmin, which scared the bejeebas out of me.

I'd planned heading out at just under 7:30 (on the Garmin), having notched 20 miles in training without too much hassle at that pace, and then ramping up from about 10 miles. That plan went to pot due to downhills, 1% and general lack of ability to rein it in at the start.

So, there I was at 13.1 miles and 1:36 into the race, having just done a little sprint while running past one of my supporters, now knowing I had to average 7:20 (Garmin) for the second, hillier, half of the race. Also knowing that I was about 3/4s spent.

The slowest miles, mentally, not actually, were from around 15 to 19. You're still heading away from the finish and you've not long run past the leaders heading in the homeward direction at mile 22! Seeing them float past on the other side of the road is at once inspiring and depressing, as the realisation of how long it will take you to reach that point hits.

Part of the route around the Isle of Dogs and Canary Wharf feels narrow, wiggly and has road humps, making it difficult to settle into a rhythm. The miles were a struggle, well, let's be fair, everything after 13 miles starts to feel like that.

I saw my wife at 19, which is when you turn and start heading for home. Her, and the crowds joining in to cheer me on around her, gave me the lift I needed to keep up my pace for another couple of quick miles. Overall, I could sense my pace was only going to get slower and had mentally readjusted my target to "just get a PB".

At 21 miles, I could really feel it, of course I was ready for it, but even still, there she was and it was all I could do to ignore her and focus on the 20 feet of road ahead of me.

I then heard my friend's distinctive yell from the crowd and gave it another little burst, at least I thought I sped up, but I was soon just putting one foot in front of the other in a trance-like state. Dark miles.

I spotted a runner a 100 yards or so in front of me flapping his arms to raise the crowd and decided to give it a go myself. It worked and the field was strung out enough that, when they did, I knew they were cheering for me, which gave me a 20 second boost every time, using energy I didn't really have, so I had to be careful.

Let it be said that the supporters along the London Marathon route are superb, any moment you're feeling it's hopeless, a glance into the crowd will usually find someone, despite the numbers around you, looking at you and willing you on.

23-24 was a good mile, through the tunnel, with nicely lit up cats eyes. It gave me another distraction, pretty lights, and no noise or crowd, me time allowing me to re-focus. I ratcheted up the pace through the tunnel and overtook a couple of folk along the way.

Out the other side, we were faced with an underpass. You don't need those at 24 miles, it felt quite steep and intimidating with 1000s of people gawping over the railings from 100 feet above. I felt weak and small.

At 25 I caught someone's eye cheering for me, "Come on Children with Cancer", and it helped a little, but I was down to 9 minutes a mile by then and had calculated that even if I walked I'd still PB. That is not a good mindset to have. Weirdly I felt far tougher running Kielder. As bad as I felt at 23, 24 around that lake, I managed to keep sub-8 minute miles going, despite all the extra pain it was causing me.

The crowd and the "does it really matter if I'm 3,196th or 3,253rd out of about 37,500?" factor, compared with the smaller races, where places start to mean something, made it harder for me to convince myself to drive myself into the ground.

I managed a few surges, with the help of arm-flapping induced cheers, in the final mile, but the classic was the last 200 metres.

200 metres to go, time on the clock 3:18:15-ish. Easy money. Sprint finish! I had the energy, but after 100 metres my leg cramped up on me and I literally stopped with 100 metres to go and 3:19 on the clock. A volunteer ran over to me and told me to stop running or I wouldn't be walking over the finish line. I rested a little, then said I'd rather hop than walk on assisted. So, there was me, with a hop, skip and an occasional run, making my way over the line, aiming for breaking 3:20, but just missing it.

So, there it is, 3:20:02. A happy man, especially happy as it means I've got another target to beat!

2 weeks to London

With exactly 2 weeks to go I'm fully into the taper in the run up to this year's London Marathon, taking place on 22nd April. I've slipped off plan on a few occasions, but have managed to make it this far without picking up any injuries and feel I've struck a happy balance between training, social, work and family life. The two keys being the plan I've followed and a very supportive wife.

A summary of my training, from the 1st January 2012 to date, is as follows:

Activity	Count	Distance (miles)	Time (h:m:s)	Avg Speed (mph)	Avg Duration
Running	44	375	48:40:09	7.7	1:06:22
Swimming	22	9.2	6:10:00	1.3	0:16:49
Cycling (mostly commuting)	10	189	14:54:12	13.7	1:29:25
Misc (Ski/Hike)	7	-	15:30:00	-	2:12:51

Discounting skiing, hiking and 75% of my cycling, as generally cycling was while commuting to work, the total time spent specifically on training amounts to:

66 hours over the past 14 weeks, or an average of 4h45m per week

Working this out confirms how I've managed not to allow marathon training to impact on my life too heavily, which is in stark contrast to my first marathon. Of course, you can always look back afterwards and think what if, but my ethos has been more of one to make provision for natural turbulence along the course of my training and not allowing the occasional knock to affect my outlook.

Yes, I dare say if I put my life on hold and dedicated it to train like an athlete, I might be able to break the magical 3 hour barrier, but what would happen to the rest of my life in the process? I enjoy my running, I enjoy the freedom it affords, the space to think, or not think, and the needed push it gives to keep the rest of your life in a healthy balance. I'm going to keep things as they are and won't be hanging up my running shoes any time soon, marathon PB or no PB in two weeks' time!

That's more like it / 8 weeks until London

Despite it not being the best week for sleep, as far as my running was concerned, it was spot on.

My two key mid-week sessions this week were 12x400s and a 6 mile tempo run, both of which were expectedly tough. Of the two, I found the 12 reps of 400m simpler to get my head around, in that envisioning yourself having a rest in 400 metres time make it easier to cope, albeit that you're only going to get 1:30 of rest in between.

The 6 miler was particularly tough and having only managed around 6 hours sleep, in the previous two nights combined, didn't help. The run was broken down into a 2 mile warm up, followed by 3 miles pretty much flat out, finished off with 1 mile easy. The mid section was at such a pace that I cleared 4.8km in 19:30, just shy of my 5km PB! But that's the thing with running, you never know quite what you can achieve until you really push it and you're often surprising yourself with what you can do.

9 weeks to London Marathon / My plan

It's been a couple of weeks since my last post, so a bit of an update on what's gone on in between.

First off, some background on how I try to plan out my week. I start my weeks on a Monday and culminate them on the weekend, trying to get my long run out of the way on the Saturday so I can relax on Sunday and recover before Monday's interval training kicks the cycle off again.

Broadly, I'm following the 3plus2 training plan, which I've mentioned in a previous post. The quick summary is that it involves 3 intense running sessions and a couple of cross-training sessions. For me, this equates to the following being my typical week:

Monday - Intervals (45 mins) e.g. 6x800m with 1:30 Recovery Interval
Tuesday - 20 mile cycle (1h20 commute to and from work)
Wednesday - Tempo run (45-60 mins); 20 min swim drills
Thursday - REST
Friday - 20 min swim drills
Saturday - Long run (18-20 miles; 13 mile on easy week)
Sunday -  REST

Yes, perhaps this should be the 3plus3 plan, but given my weedy 20 min swim efforts and the fact that I'm claiming a commute to work as cross-training, I'm not counting them as proper workouts and just hoping my 3 non-running sessions actually add up to 2 proper ones.

Here's how the week commencing Mon 6th Feb looked.

We'd had a little snow that week which made for a stunning long run on Sunday. The air temperature had remained cool preserving much of the snow in the woods where the sun couldn't quite reach it. In fact, that Saturday run has to go down as one of my favourites. I took in several woodland areas, including chancing upon a superb cross-country race course 30 minutes or so from starting, and was on such a high that I decided it fine to throw in some extra hills midway round, just to take in the scenery and give myself a few more slopes to bound down in the snow. I kept going for the full 20 miles, without having to stop and, despite the hilly terrain I'd chosen, managed to maintain the target pace of 8:08 min/mile. Very happy at the end of that one.

The following week saw me tackle the longest tempo run of the schedule so far, which I had to put in after a long day in the office and not much sleep the night before, due to unsettled children!

It was an 8 miler, with 6 of those at 7:05 min/mile pace. It's pretty much having to knock out a 43:30 10k in the middle of an 13k run. Considering the thought of breaking 45 minutes for a 10k was a pipe dream, little more than 3 years ago, you could say this felt like a reasonable challenge. I got through it, just, but couldn't wait for it to finish and collapsed into our porch way at the finish.

The high I'd been on the previous Saturday had seemingly ebbed away. I noticed this, even more so, when I had to tackle my shortest long run to date, a 13 miler, and had to pull up 4 or 5 times just to summon up the energy to finish it.

Sometimes it's like that. I've had an unsettled week sleep-wise, which is never going to help, and my meal the night before the long run was pizza. To top it off, the first 4 miles of my chosen route were into a headwind and uphill. Nevertheless, I'd hoped for more and it's knocked my confidence a little.

Here's my summary for the week:

Mon - 6x800m in 2:55 (1:30 RI)
Tue - 20 mile cycle commute
Wed - 6 mile @ 7:05 min/mile, 1 mile warm up/down; 20 min swim (intervals)
Thu - REST
Fri - REST
Sat - 13 miles @ 7:40 min/mile
Sun - 26 mile cycle, moderate hills

Totals: 52 miles; 6h30m

Sub-zero training

It had been a fairly bitter ride home on the scooter the night before, so I'd been expecting a nippy start to the Saturday. Sure enough, the low morning sun exposed the deep frost which had bitten the garden and my watch's thermometer revealed that the air temperature was a refreshing -4.9℃. It was most definitely a tights day.

A few years back, I wouldn't have been seen dead in tights, or lycra of any description but, since then, I've clearly become less image conscious and more rational and a sucker for comfort. They're eminently sensible for training in this sort of weather, especially for the pre-dawn and post-dusk hours, when you don't even get the mild benefit of the winter sun. Admittedly, your body can warm itself up quite quickly, but if you're only out for 30-45 minutes and intend on training relatively intensely throughout, you've got to give your muscles a chance to make it through the session in one piece. For the longer runs, you could argue that full tights aren't necessary and, despite Saturday's temperatures, I did feel, at times, a little too warm. That said, had I been forced to stop for any period of time, in the middle of nowhere and, let's face it, when you head out for a 2.5-3 hour run, anything could happen, I would have been glad not to have been facing being stuck in just my shorts.

Other items I pulled on for warmth yesterday included a long sleeve thermal icebreaker top, an additional running t-shirt, a Buff, to wear around my neck, a pair of running shorts over my tights, thickish smartwool running socks, cotton gloves and a fleecy running hat.

I always carry a lightweight backpack with me on long runs, to carry my water, a phone, some money, gels and cereal bars. There was a stark contrast between the temperature when running into a chilly Easterly in the shade, versus being sheltered from the wind and in full sun. Having the backpack to hand, meant I could remove, or put back on, hat, gloves, buff as required to regulate my temperature, keeping them within easy reach in the elasticated side pockets.

Saturday's run was an 18 miler at MP (target marathon pace) plus 45 seconds [per mile], it took me around 2h25m. I didn't find the pace too tough, although I had taken it a bit easier during the week, due to a slight injury (banging my knee on a kitchen unit!), so my energy levels were probably slightly higher than what they would have been. Nevertheless, 18 miles is still a long way and I was suitably exhausted at the end of my uphill finish and struggled to keep up with my children who'd come to meet me at the finish and were demanding piggy back rides and tree climbing! I think it's called a warm down...

Completing the Kielder Marathon without taking the bus

On Sunday 9th October, I lined up with two friends and another 1,200 or so people for the second running of the Kielder Marathon, billed as Britain's most beautiful marathon. I'm not convinced that beauty is an appropriate characteristic to focus on when describing such an event, certainly it wasn't top of my list during the last 8 miles, which were gruelling, seriously painful, pretty lonely and seemingly unending. Undoubtably, the trail's quality and setting is pretty spectacular and, despite its arduous nature, neither I, nor my friends, gave up and caught the bus, unlike the chap who came in third, only to be found out and then have his story plastered over the national news.

Kielder and specifically Kielder Water, around which we ran, is in Northumberland, a few miles from the Scottish border and miles from anywhere. The area is so remote, it boasts absolutely no mobile reception and some of the darkest skies in the country with even a possibility of catching the Northern Lights, so long as the conditions are right. There was certainly no chance of any Northern Lights action on marathon day, as we lined up in a penguin-like huddle, shielding one another from the ripping wind and constant drizzle.

The photos within the review of a previous edition of Runners World, showed no sign of rain, having enjoyed autumnal sunshine throughout, neither did they give much away about the sort of terrain that required "steep incline" signposts dotted along at000 all too regular intervals. It's fair to say that the three of us hadn't really done our research and had seen the pictures, read that it was around a lake and come to the conclusion that it would be flat and relaxing, in an amazing setting. Oh how wrong we were, about the first two bits at least.

I picked a position a hundred or so yards from the start, having decided my initial target time, of as close to 3:30 as possible, might have been a little ambitious after hearing that the 2010's women's event was won in just under 3 hours by Lizzy Hawker, the recently crowned ultra running world champion having outperformed all men and women in a 24 hour endurance event.

Despite my newly tempered target time, of anything under 3:40, and the immediate 200+ metre climb out from the start, I went off with a spring in my step and completed the first mile in a little over 8 minutes. The next couple of miles were a little quicker still, due to being largely downhill. By mile 3, the field had spread out and we were off the roads and onto the trail.

Coming round about mile 4 or 5, the route ahead was being traced out by a string of quicker runners snaking their way round an inlet, across a bridge, before winding up into the forest ahead. This happened to be a relatively small inlet, unlike some further round the course which could place you tantalisingly close to a point 3 miles, or so, further round, before doubling you back on a long trawl inland. It's fair to say that the trail is seldom flat or uninteresting.

The miles ticked by and the mood was buoyant. I found my pace within the field although discovered the tactics of those around me weren't all like mine. I'd decided to walk the steeper of the inclines and make up time by letting my legs cartwheel down the other side. The tactic seemed to be working. I'd keep sight of runners (well, joggers at this point) making their way up the hill ahead of me and then thunder past them on the downhills and try to keep the momentum going on the flats. I was using gravity and not fighting it, but I could tell the thighs were beginning to suffer as a result.

Around mile 12, just before half way, my legs felt about as punished as they tend to around 17/18 miles on a training run. This did not bode well for the last 7 or 8 miles of the race but there was no point worrying about it, I'd made my bed and there was no way I was going to pull up now.

Crossing the half way point gave the whole pack a bit of a lift and, consequently, the general pace notched up a little. I also realised we'd maintained the spritely start pace and were actually on target for a sub-3:30 finish, but with 13 miles to go, it wasn't time to start counting chickens. Soon after half way, we could see the dam at the end of the reservoir agonisingly close but for a huge inlet ahead of us. Nothing to do but to get your head down and get on with it.

Rounding the inlet and undulating through the forest for a while further, we came thundering down a hill towards a road and could see the dam ahead of us. There was a decent crowd of spectators at this point and a chap on a megaphone reading out some of the runner's names as they came past. My name was read out and this, the crowd, the aforementioned stretch of downhill and the prospect of a long flat stretch of road ahead, the only flat stretch on the course, all led to my pace being ratcheted up yet further. In fact, as I hit the dam and glanced at my watch I was clocking not much above 7 minute miles.

I ran close to the dam wall to shelter from the cross wind and kept my head down, determined to maintain the pace. I reached the other end of the dam having clocked what would be my fastest mile of the race, overtaking a number of people along the way. Another crowd was waiting for us at the other side of the dam and that helped me maintain the momentum to take me into the final 5 or so miles.

A half mile further, the crowd was out of sight, my legs were pounding and my energy levels slumped. I felt as if I'd used all my reserves to speed through the last couple of miles, when I'd felt the finish was within touching distance. 5 miles is still a long way and with what feels like no energy, it can seem like an eternity.

I'm loathe to write much about the last 4 or so miles, for fear of digging up terrible memories and making me never want to run one of these things ever again. To pass time, I started to count my steps, 1, 2, 3, 4...300, quarter mile marker passed. Ok, I was running about 1200 paces to a mile, that's a lot of counting, but it did keep my mind off of the pain, sort of.

3:30 was still in sight, but it would take some doing. I managed, somehow, to ignore the pain of my now leaden quads but was starting to be overtaken by one or two folk, who'd clearly judged their race a little better. About a mile out, I knew I had to put in a sub-8 mile to get in in under 3:30. The past few miles had been nearer 8:15, so this was still touch and go.

I raised the tempo and then decided to try one of my flat out finishes from around the 300 metre mark, it seemed to take forever, then I emerged from the forest and could see the finish gantry...up a hill. Thanks race organisers, just what we needed for the final 50 metre push.

I finished the race in 3:29:34, after pulling a 7:30 minute last mile. I was over the moon with that result. Not sure whether I'll be back next year, it took several days before I was able to walk properly again, my legs had taken such a pounding. I'm very happy to have taken part in such a great event around such a unique course and let's just leave it at that!

Course as mapped by my Garmin 310XT

Breaking 1h30 in the Stratford Half Marathon

Anything under 1h40, with half an eye on 1h35 had been the target. Of course, race time predictor said otherwise and, based on my current 5 and 10k times, had me a couple of minutes under 1h30 for the half marathon, but my times have always been relatively slower in longer events, probably due to a lack of time spent on longer runs.

I'd pushed hard in my interval training and tempo runs, but always dropped down a gear or two on the longer runs, for fear of blowing up 5 miles from nowhere. The thought of turning up to the race and running for an hour and a half at under 6:55 min/mile seemed ridiculous. The fastest long training run I'd clocked prior to the half marathon, was at 7:40 min/mile pace. Almost a minute per mile slower.

The Race

As the horn sounded, at the start of the Shakespeare Half (and Full) Marathon, the adrenalin kicked in and, predictable as ever, I sped off way quicker than intended, only to find myself sitting in a group who rounded the first 4 corners of the race to finish the first mile in near enough 6 mins 30 seconds. I'm yet to start a race where I've not gone off a little faster than I'd anticipated, I know I'm not alone. It's partly due to the excitement, partly due to a voice inside you persuading you that of course you can squeeze a couple more minutes off your target time. That and you're feeling fresh, fresher than for any of your training runs, assuming you've tapered, makes it tricky to tune your body into a sensible, and sustainable, race pace.

After completing mile one 40 seconds quicker than planned, I pulled back to around a 6:50 pace, as did many of the folk around me. I still felt very comfortable and thought I'd try and hold the pace to mile 4 or 5 and see how I felt. Having run some long training runs and completed a few marathons, I feel capable of visualising how my body will react over the course of 5 or so miles. Beyond that, it's a little more uncertain. I know when I reached 18 miles in my last marathon, I stepped the pace up a notch as I felt comfortable I could sustain it to 23/24 miles, and get myself the last couple of miles on sheer determination. It worked.

A couple of small hills behind us, we hit mile 5 and my average pace was around 6:55. I felt I could sustain this, at a push, so I kept it going. The course had flattened out a little by this stage and I knew there was only one long hill left around the 9 mile mark. We passed through a couple of villages, with pockets of cheerful and welcoming support out along the route, which always picks you up and made for a pleasant middle section of the race.

The miles were passing quickly and soon enough the long drag up around mile 9 was upon us. I slowed a little, focused on the ground a few metres in front of me and just kept the legs turning. The hill wasn't difficult, just quite long and I quickly made up for the slow down in pace on the descent.

I've never done a few hilly courses previously and have never been one to hold back on descents, preferring just to lean forward and let the legs go. The thighs do take a bit of a pounding, but it's a sure fire way to make up for any lost time on the ascents. By the time you reach the bottom, your legs have gotten used to moving more quickly and you find it easier to sustain a higher pace, even when the ground's levelled out.

The mile or so after the descent, I was running a little quicker than 6:40 per mile. I eased off a little through mile 11, having bought my average right back down and, despite my fuzzy running brain, I managed to work out that a quick finish might just get me home in under 1h30.

The 12 mile marker was close to a 180 degree turn down off the main road and onto a track. I checked my watch, which was showing 1:23 something. A little over 1 mile to go and less than 7 minutes remaining. I caught up with the man in front and encouraged him to join me in attempting a quick finish to get in under 1h30. We slogged it out and at 200m to go, I went flat out, realising there were literally seconds in it.

I completed mile 13 in 6:20 and the final 0.1 mile in under 30 seconds, to finish happily in a time of 1h29m56s.

As happy as I was with it, I hadn't set out to achieve this time, it was about 5 minutes up on what I thought I could do, but then you never do really know what you can achieve until you truly push yourself. And that I will keep doing.