Relax, don't do it

The last couple of weeks have marked the inevitable ‘not enough hours in the week’ point of my marathon training.

Anyone who’s trained for a marathon knows the feeling. If you’re training for your first marathon, you’ll experience it soon enough. You might have a mental week at work. You might be visiting friends. Or, you might just have the perfect storm of training, work and an uncharacteristically busy social life hit in a week.

 
Sometimes, I’ll check Twitter at breakfast and see people have been out and done 10 miles or speedwork and it’s not even 7am. These people can always fit a run in. They are superhuman. I am not superhuman. I have to sleep. Otherwise I find when I run I trip over because I’m too tired to look where I’m going. I have learnt the hard way that tripping over and hurting yourself is bad for marathon training morale.

Marathons do not run themselves so somehow you have to fit in miles. That’s why marathon training is so much harder than the race itself. Sometimes, no amount of planning can help: the simple question is – when on earth am I going to fit in a run?

Here are some of my tricks for fitting in miles and staying sane when the diary gets full.

1.     Concede.

Depending on your race target, your plan will likely have you running between 4-6 times a week. Whatever the training schedule I have set myself, I am unlikely to be able to stick to it for 16-18 weeks in a row. My life will take over at some point. My work will have to take precedent at some point. My loved ones will have birthdays, emergencies or generally demand that at some point they come before the lycra. I will go on holiday or visit friends who think I'm crazy (or antisocial) for running every single day.

Don’t sweat it. So what if one week you only run two, three four times? The training police don’t come and arrest you. Just don’t make a habit of it. Hal Higdon reckons if you do approx. 85% of your training, you’ll be fine. This is a good rule of thumb which I use when I’m feeling stressed about the demands on my time.

If there genuinely isn’t any space to fit in a run, I just shrug it off and try to follow my schedule as normal the following week. Don’t try to squeeze in extra miles to make up for missed runs. That way injury lies.

2.     Quality not quantity.

If you must concede miles or runs for the week, focus on quality not quantity. I always aim to fit in speedwork and a long run, no matter what the week throws at me. For example, last week I knew my total mileage would suffer so I ran a tough testing intervals session on Tuesday evening with my club, Ealing Eagles. It took me a good couple of days to recover properly, but that was ok, because it was a good couple of days before I could fit in a run. I also ran a few miles later in the week at race pace, and did a long run on Sunday. So, although I didn’t tick off 100% of my mileage, I felt like I had achieved some quality sessions that would help my progress.

If I’m on holiday, I do a long run the day before I leave and the day after I come back, so I don’t have to do them while I’m away. Long runs on holiday are only acceptable if you holiday alone. Otherwise they might ensure that you end up holidaying alone.

 3.     Commute.

Ask yourself, can I commute to or from work? Note: not ‘can I be arsed to commute to or from work? That is a different question!

Many people can’t do the run commute because of distance or logistics. But many of you can. So, if you can, do it. It’s a simple way to kill two birds with one stone.

If you have office shower facilities but they get a bit hectic in the morning (which is the case at my work), take your stuff and run part or all of the way home. A couple of weeks ago I ran part way home on Tuesday and all the way home on Wednesday. It was the only way to fit my miles in, but it meant I avoided the stinky BO fest that is the Tube and was still able to attend a social event in the evening.

Run commutes are particularly useful for marathon training long runs, if you’ve got a busy weekend coming up. I’ve scheduled 19 miles for the Friday of the Bank holiday, as I have family christenings and birthdays for the rest of the weekend. By running home to start the weekend, I’ll bank the miles and have the rest of the weekend to recover.

Remember, if you can’t fit the miles in one week, it’s not the end of the world. If you can’t fit the miles in for two weeks, it’s not ideal but it’s fixable. If it gets to 3-4 weeks, and you’re not able to run even though you’re actually fit to do it, you might need to consider a different training plan or race target that fits better with your lifestyle. Running should be a pleasure, not a chore.

Running in the footsteps of legends, next to a bellend

Today a lucky few of us that made it through the website crashes to get a place in the National Lottery Anniversary Run got a chance to finish a race in the Olympic Stadium. For just over 300m, we could be Mo, we could be Jess, we could be Jo, we could be Hannah, we could be David. It was an incredibly special experience, one I am lucky to have and would want to repeat over and over again.

Most runners will never get to experience a stadium finish, a crowd roaring you on towards the finish line. Those of us that could run, walk, guide or be guided, push or be pushed today can say we have heard the cheers. I can only begin to imagine how much the noise of a full stadium, roaring them on, must have propelled our Olympians forward to their haul of gold.

The crowd waiting in the stadium was a welcome relief from the total lack of support on the rest of the course. The Olympic Park is essentially a building site at the moment, a work in progress, and members of the public can’t move about freely, let along cheer on their loved ones on the course.  So it’s the first time I’ve ever run a race with no supporters, and it’s an eerie sensation.

Arguably, the run up to the track was more exciting than the final 300m. Before you head onto the track, you run into the stadium and inside, through a tunnel, to get into the centre. The organisers had come up with an ingenious idea to keep the runners motivated in the echoing tunnel space – while I ran through, speakers played the Chariots of Fire theme, cut through with Steve Cram’s commentary on Mo’s first Gold at London 2012. For me, who has ‘Steve Cram commentating on my race finish’ at about no. 11 in my bucket list, this was incredibly inspiring. I spent most of my time in the tunnel either laughing like a loon or grinning like one of those Special Brew-addled loonies on the 207 bus, but I didn’t care. I loved every second.

The race was so much fun, even Mr Condescender couldn’t spoil it. Everybody has seen these people in a race, and many women will have suffered them (I don’t why, but the ones I see seem to think women are in greater need of their encouragement). You know the one: he runs next you, telling you how far you’ve run or how far you’ve left to go (because you can’t see the mile markers and do the maths, as you’re a woman). He tells you ‘you’re doing great’ or assures you ‘you can do it’. Most of the time, I think this is misguided but quite sweet. Today I was on the end of it, and I didn't feel quite so charitable.

I’d already heard him doing his mile marker impersonation to a couple of women at the 3 mile mark. After that, I’d gone past and thought I’d seen the last of him, But then he came up alongside me for the first time.

‘good pace, good pace’

It was good pace. I was bloody delighted with it, actually. So I accepted this compliment cheerfully and gracefully, then gradually accelerated to leave him and his neon headband behind.

Then he came up alongside me again under the Helter Skelter construction,

‘You’re breathing a bit hard, you should save a bit for the end’

Ok, complete stranger, I thought. Thanks for the coaching. I’m just off trying to maintain my pace on an incline so yes, I’m breathing a little bit heavier than usual but feeling great, thanks.  But I told myself he meant well and I assured him I was fine. For this, I got another round of ‘good pace, good pace’ so I left him behind again for a bit of peace.

But there he popped up again, just before the 4 mile marker.

Him: ‘You ok?’

Me: ‘Yes, thanks’

Him: ‘good girl, good girl’

It’s a testimony to what a wonderful time I was having and how excited I was about my impending arrival into the stadium that I didn’t a) smack him round his neon headband or b) scream ‘I’m a 40 year old woman, not a bloody pet dog.

I wasn’t going to let a bit of casual sexism ruin my day.

Because it was a bloody marvellous, once-in-a-lifetime one.

10k PB or Wembley - or both

I’ve had a post marathon race in the diary for months – my local 10k in Gunnersbury Park, organised by my running club, Ealing Eagles. I’ve been looking forward to testing out my newly conditioned marathon body over a shorter distance, see if I can knock a couple of minutes off my PB.

But isn’t it always the way that when you’ve had something in the diary for ages, something else crops up on the same day. In my case, my local team Brentford reaching the League One playoff final at Wembley.

I’m an Everton fan first and foremost, but finances and life commitments mean I can’t watch Everton as much as I’d like to, so I like to watch Brentford a few times a season as well. I love going to Brentford, it’s like football as I remember it from being a kid. You can usually buy a ticket on the gate, without going through an overpriced and hugely complicated ticketing system. You can sit where you like. And there’s never a dull moment following Brentford’s progress, certainly not since I moved to the area.

For reasons we can only begin to guess at, the kick-off time for the playoff final is 1.30 (perhaps the organisers dislike Yeovil Town fans and want to make them get up really early?).  My 10k starts at 10.30. If I run it at the same pace as last year, this gives me 2 hour, 5 mins and 10 seconds to get from Gunnersbury Park to Wembley. Hmm…

So I’m in a quandary. There are 3 options available to me:

1.       Try to run faster than I’ve ever run before. Shaving a bit more off my time could get me a few extra minutes to negotiate the TfL bus network, maybe even allowing me time to change out of my stinky running kit before the match. However, it may lead to me having an asthma attack that lasts long enough to see us through to penalties.

2.       Just take it easy on the 10k race, cross the finish line and keep going to Wembley, marking it down as a bonus long run instead and finding another chance to PB my 10k time. Might get time to change out of my stinky running kit at Wembley instead. And ensure someone in the Brentford end has a medal.

3.       Skip the race entirely and transfer my entry to a less Wembley-bound individual.

Ooh, the dilemma!

Race swag report - London, must do better

I’ve been clearing up my London Marathon mess. In my case, this means putting away the extra gels I didn’t use on route, and going through my post race goody bag.

I think the term ‘goody bag’ is a bit of a stretch at the London Marathon. You get two, one at the expo pre race, and one after you finish and you’ve picked up the bag you put in storage at the start.

The pre race one is a jumble of cereal bars, nuts and leaflets for stuff you’re unlikely to use or need at any point in your life. This year, the only thing I kept for myself was a bag of nuts – the rest either went in the bin, the recycling or was donated to my Beloved (voucher for a free pint – well, he does deserve a treat for coming to watch me). But nothing that really captures the distance running market. I can’t believe that companies out there are not more interested to reach 35000 people with their fitness-related products.

The post race goody bag verges slightly on the insult, it’s such a diverse collection of items. There’s the random freebies - this year, a sachet for cheesy chicken and bacon pasta bake, a single prune (!?!) and some chewing gum. Then there are the useful ones - you get a bottle of Lucozade and of water, as well as sachets of Jointace and Biofreeze. These are incredibly successful, as since my free sachet of Jointace after last year’s marathon, I’ve become a regular customer. 10/10 for marketing there, chaps.

You also got an apple and another cereal bar, which I am sure are very welcome for a lot of people, but the last thing I want after 26.2 miles of sugary gels and over 4 hours of sweating is more sugar, so I tend to ignore or ditch these. After I ran scorching Berlin in 2011, I nearly cried when they gave me a bag of fruit after the race, when I would have gladly sold my medal for a bag of salty pretzels. I always pack myself a bag of ready salted crisps in my own bag, so I can get some salt back in my system quickly.

You do get a salty snack in the London goody bag – a packet of pistachios. With their shells on. Personally, I think anyone that can summon up the strength to shell pistachios after running 26.2 miles deserves an extra medal. Or a t-shirt that fits them.

Yes, the London marathon t-shirt. One size only, extra large, thick cotton – who exactly does this fit? Not that many of the runners on Sunday, that’s for sure. The organisation for London is so good at the start and the finish, I really don’t think it can be beyond their wit and their budget to print t-shirts in smaller sizes. The Great North Run manage it, although these are still not ideal, because again they are thick cotton and therefore not suitable for sport. I’d love a race t-shirt that I can wear for training or racing. Is it just a feature of major British races that we can’t make technical t-shirts for finishers, in a size that might actually fit them? As a size 10 woman (and I assume there are plenty of them and smaller who regularly run races in the UK), I have only ever got a technical race t-shirt that fits me from New York races, and I wear them loads.

But even something that fits me is better than nothing. I have had small cotton t-shirts from smaller British races and to be honest, Virgin, I think if St Albans Half marathon can give me a t-shirt that fits me for under £30 entry fee, I think you can too.

Maybe t-shirts aren’t the best memento. Medals are great, obviously (although I do also think Virgin & London cop out with this as they are essentially the same every year, only the year and the back of the medal change) but other useful and brilliant mementos that fit everybody are bags. I’ve had some great bags from cycling races and more recently the Maidenhead 10 mile race, and I use these all the time, therefore advertising the event to others. And of course, the best race memento ever is the commemorative beer glass (West4 Harriers, take a bow) but obviously this isn’t practical for the marathon.

Another disappointment was that Timex didn’t do the fridge magnet freebie this year (or at least I didn’t get one). This was a brilliant memento last year, and is definitely the best race freebie there is, so disappointing that a major race sponsor couldn’t stretch to this promotional tool again in 2013.

Price is a factor, I know. For a World Major, London is very cheap to enter in the ballot. But the vast majority of people pay a lot more for golden bond place and then raise a fortune for charity. They are not all men who wear extra large sizes. Wouldn’t it be nice to reward them with a race memento that they can sport with pride, all year round, rather than one that they can only wear to bed?

London Marathon 2013

I set out to finally hit sub 4:15 at London yesterday. I’ve had a good training regime, everything has gone to plan and I’ve really had some quality sessions. A sports massage last week seemed to have given me new legs too, so I felt confident. The weather was warm, but that’s way I like it so I was pretty happy overall with conditions and raring to go. I was worried that my ITB would let me down again, but there was only one way to find out – start running!

My pacing was spot on for the first two thirds of the race. I kept reminding myself to be disciplined and control my pace, and it really worked. I felt good, I felt strong, and keeping to my targets gave me incredible confidence. At mile 14 I was looking good for a 4:10 finish, and I was happy.

But then at mile 15, it all went a bit wrong. I’d had a gel and some water somewhere between 13 and 14, and it did not sit right at all. I retched a couple of times, but managed to keep it down with some more water. Unfortunately, from that point on, I was racing with what felt like a massive Sunday roast sitting in my stomach. It alternated between a general dull feeling of nausea and a specific sharp pain underneath my race number. It was awful. But at least my legs didn’t hurt, eh!

My guts essentially turned the last 10 miles into a mental rather than physical feat of strength. My body was keeping going, slightly off goal pace unfortunately, but my mind was struggling. It couldn’t really deal with this new sensation, this unexpected problem, and it took all my mental focus to keep going. I toyed with stopping and puking, but there were no gaps in the spectators to do this and I was damned if I was going to spray some nice person who’d turned out to cheer us all on. So I just continued and hoped that somehow my stomach would absorb what it had inside. I suspect I had too much water on board, but was concerned about getting cramp, so continued to have the odd sip every 2-3 miles. The sunshine made it feel a lot warmer than it actually was but I was conscious that a lot of people around me were going down with cramp, and I didn’t need any more problems at that point!

At mile 24, I told myself I just had 2 miles to go until I could puke freely, and I tried to push on. My stomach pain ramped up massively, and I decided to save any surge for the last few metres instead. At 600m I pushed on again, but it wasn’t enough to get me there on time, and I hit a PB of 4:16:16 instead. I didn’t care at that point. A PB is a PB, and I didn’t puke on a stranger. All round, I think that was a win.

Split	Time Of Day	Time	Diff	min/km	km/h
5K	10:31:32	00:29:24	29:24	05:53	10.21
10K	11:01:18	00:59:10	29:46	05:58	10.08
15K	11:31:16	01:29:08	29:58	06:00	10.01
20K	12:01:25	01:59:17	30:09	06:02	9.95
HALF	12:07:53	02:05:45	06:28	05:55	10.17
25K	12:31:30	02:29:22	23:37	06:04	9.91
30K	13:02:16	03:00:08	30:46	06:10	9.75
35K	13:33:40	03:31:32	31:24	06:17	9.55
40K	14:04:36	04:02:28	30:56	06:12	9.70
Finish time	14:18:24	04:16:16	13:48	06:18	9.54

I’m not sure that London is the best course to aim for a time goal. It’s the most congested of the three Majors I’ve run – while it may be flatter than New York, at least you don’t have to zig zag your way through runners hitting the wall and walking in New York, because the streets are wider and there is more room for walkers to get out of the way. Berlin is also a pretty wide course. Admittedly, I don’t really remember many people walking in New York or Berlin – for me, it’s much more a feature of London than the other two cities.

And then there are those bloody bottles. Discarded water and Lucozade Sport everywhere, and it just becomes an obstacle course. I had to make a couple of jumps to hurdle over a speeding bottle and, at mile 24, one came at me from behind so I landed on it and twisted my left ankle. It wasn’t serious enough to stop me, but it hurt like hell at a point in the race where you really don’t need additional pain. Again, New York and Berlin both operate a plastic cup system, which is much safer for the runners. I appreciate this has logistical issues, but it’s something that really mars London as a race for me.

Yet London is brilliant in so many other ways. The support is immense. There isn’t really any point, except for the underpass in Canary Wharf and the tunnel at Blackfriars, where there is a gap in the cheering section. People even bring their sofa into the street to watch the race (I’ve seen these guys two years running now and it makes me smile each time). Cutty Sark and Tower Bridge are just walls of sound, which keeps you lifted for a while after.

Highlights of yesterday’s race were finishing (of course), seeing your loved ones and friends en route but also the support for others you can draw on. For me, it was at mile 13, where I saw a sign that featured a photo of Ryan Gosling, with the words ‘Kate, when you slow down, Ryan gets sad’. It made me laugh out loud at the time, when I was feeling strong, but then later on in the race when I started to struggle, I would tell myself that Ryan was getting sad so it would spur me on. I hope Ryan appreciates what he did for marathon runners yesterday.

I’m ultimately happy because since I turned 40 last August, I’ve PBed over 10k, 10 miles, half marathon and marathon distances. I can’t really grumble about that level of performance and I won’t. But I will get that sub 4:15 one day, I swear. 

Did you just sneeze?

With just over a week to go before London, the paranoia is starting to set in. It's that time in marathon training where the start line is so close, yet so far.

Anything could still go wrong. Although we're unlikely to suffer a hurricane that causes significant damage to Greenwich Park and forces the organisers to cancel the race next Friday (see my November 2012 posts for reports on that unlikely outcome), there are still so many things that can keep me from my marathon goal. Bacteria, and millions of them.

I am now officially crazy. This is the part of the marathon training period that is most likely to provoke arguments in my house. My beloved never complains about the early mornings at weekends, the long hours spent out training, the random pasta meals and the anti-social Saturday nights in. But he gets seriously exasperated by the mildly hysterical germ phobia I start to exhibit during taper time. As well as trying to monitor his handwashing activities (tricky), I have been known to check the health status of everyone in his office during the final weeks of marathon training. To him, it's the sign of insanity. To me, it's last minute self-preservation.

In an ideal world, marathon runners would be able go into quarantine properly before a marathon, sealing themselves off from commuters, small children and unexpected pavement obstacles. But runners have lives to lead, jobs to go to and journeys to make, so we have to take all sorts of lovely precautions to avoid the sneezes and diseases.

My close friends know not to even attempt to try and see me if they have the slightest sniffle and by now usually just resort to email communication even if they feel fine, as they are used to being treated as potential disease carriers. Those with small children, a.k.a. incubators, usually just say 'see ya!' about 4 weeks beforehand, and we try and get a date in the diary after the race for a proper catch up. More casual acquaintances are indirectly interrogated by phone, email or text before meetings to check their health status. All unnecessary journeys are ruled out, and meeting travel is planned so it doesn't require too much rush hour travel, where you're most exposed to people's nasties at close quarters.

But then there is the impromptu encounter, like yesterday's visit from someone who casually mentioned they're getting over shingles. What kind of contagion are you trying to bring into my cocoon the week before a marathon, for God's sake? Have you no compassion? Is it any wonder I am slightly hysterical?

Before the marathon, I've got two long distance train journeys, six tube journeys, one family lunch and two large meetings to get through unscathed. These are dangerous levels of human contact, so I've stocked up on the Carex and Echinacea, and am prepared to refuse to kiss any member of my family. Harsh, but necessary. Wish me luck!

To stop or not to stop?: running etiquette question #361

You run a lot of miles in marathon training programmes. You're out on the streets for a lot of hours over the course of several weeks. You have a lot of time to ponder issues such as the meaning of life, how long does it take for a child to learn how to ride a bike in a straight line, what to have for lunch, what to have for dinner, why do Councils insist on planting trees with roots that split the pavements, what to have for dinner and... seriously, Hounslow Council, sort it out...

Recently, I've been witnessing a new trend which has given me lots of food for thought: is it rude not to stop for someone in the street who asks you to stop for a moment?

It's a fact of life running in London that you will occasionally get asked for directions - people naturally assume that you know where you are. This is not always the case. Once, on one of my many 'getting lost in south London long runs', a guy asked me where Clapham Junction station was. He was annoyed when I replied I didn't even know what bit of London I was in but I knew the river was that way, pointing helpfully (for the record, I would have guessed Battersea, judging by the value of the buggies being pushed...) . He clearly thought I was lying and being deliberately rude & unhelpful, but obviously he's unaware of my stunning track record at getting lost in south London.

But in the last few weeks, I've been asked for directions at least 3 times a week. Again, on longer runs, it's a 50/50 shot at best that I will know the place they are looking for - I am miles away from home. Do they not realise it's marathon season? On shorter runs, it's a real dilemma. Do I stop my Garmin and help a fellow human? Or do I maintain my pace and say 'sorry, can't stop'?. I always feel obliged to stop, even if my answer is usually 'er, sorry, no idea' (I really need to work on learning some street names, instead of navigating by Powerade-selling newsagents and public toilets).

A couple of days ago, two women stopped me and asked me where a particular road was. I was jubilant...I knew exactly where it was! I helpfully pointed it out, they looked really grateful, said 'thanks' and promptly walked off in the opposite direction! I felt quite resentful, to be honest. I mean, why stop me and ask me IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LISTEN!

One instance where I always refuse to stop is the religious canvasser. I am at a loss to understand the logic of the person that thinks this sweaty, purple-faced, banshee-haired woman bearing down on them has a) time to stop and b) wants to carry a pamphlet round with her for the rest of that run. Let's face it, if you give me a piece of paper about Jesus, redemption, abortion or the like, it's going to be sweaty mush in a few seconds. So it's a bit of a waste of your printed materials budget, to be honest. There's a recession on, think about your market and you'll reduce your costs.

What is the etiquette on this for urban runners? Do we stop to give directions? Or should people realise we're in a hurry and ask someone else instead? I'd love to know what other city runners think about this.

Maidenhead Easter 10 review, human shields and the last long run

Heading into the last week of high mileage before London, my niggles were still worrying me but not as much as the fact I couldn't fit in a trip to the physio before my Good Friday 10 mile race. We'd discussed K-taping some dodgy bits but a job interview and another unexpected commitment put paid to that, so it was left to me to carry out homestyle massage and trigger point release to try and get me through the last few days.

My main concern was that I planned to do a race on Good Friday. The training plan said 10 miles at race pace, then 20 miles long slow run the day after, so I'd signed up for the Maidenhead Easter 10. I spent most of the week deliberating whether I was mad to race 10 miles with a dodgy knee and an explosive left calf, but then the weather was lovely and I needed to run, so I found myself parked in an office park in Maidenhead at 8.30am on Good Friday, ready to race.

It's a lovely race and I'm glad I did it again for a second year. It's extremely well organised, they have nice toilets at the start (if not enough of them) and you are very handy for your car when you finish and want to sit down! I decided I was going to test out the Virtual Partner function on my Garmin, to see whether it was something I wanted to use on marathon day. I set my VP pace at 9:30, which is what I'm aiming for in London, and headed over the start line. 

At first, you run a lap round the office park before heading out into the Berkshire countryside. This is quite good, because I find it helps you gauge much better what effort you need for the finishing strait. Once you're out into the countryside, it's a really nice route. There's one bit where you have to run on a narrow pavement near traffic and it's unfortunately the bit where I was starting to accelerate and pick a few people off, but otherwise it's a nice course and very flat.

The wind was quite evil in places, and I did have to employ sneaky cycling tactics at one point, tucking in behind a giant of a guy as we ran into a headwind, then whipping past him once we'd turned off to head for home away from the wind. Well, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do!

I noticed that as the race progressed I was increasing the margin at which I beating my virtual partner. I couldn't decide whether this was good, as essentially I was running about 50 seconds per minute faster than I should in the marathon, but I felt great and was loving it (with no niggles!) so I just thought 'sod it'. I did restrain myself a bit, conscious I had 20 miles ahead of me in 24 hours time, but overall I just really loved racing on the day. I kept pushing to the end, cheered on by an Ealing Eagles club mate in the last 200m, and knew I had definitely PBed my 10 mile time. At the end of the day, when the results were up, I realised I knocked 6 minutes off my time in the same race the previous year to hit 1:28:02, so I really hope this bodes well for London in just under 3 weeks.

I could feel the effort I'd made in my legs when I woke up on Saturday morning, so I felt a bit nervous about the final 20 mile run. Still, it was dress rehearsal time, so I had my race breakfast at the time I would have on marathon day and planned to start running at 10am, as per 21 April.

It didn't get off to a good start as my Garmin pointedly refused to detect any satellite so I just decided to run blind and not worry about pace etc. I knew my route and didn't need to measure the mileage, so I would just go off the total time taken. However, about 2.5 miles in, my left valf had a tantrum and refused to go any further unless it was stretched, so I took the stretch time to faff around with Garmin and get it going for the rest of the run.

I won't lie, the 20 miles were hard. Miles 8-14 in particular were vicious. Richmond Park was dark, windy, empty and far too undulating for my liking, so I found myself having a serious moment of doubt in my ability to run home about halfway in. I recognised that the pain I was feeling wasn't bad pain, it was just fatigue, so I had to give myself a stern lecture about being a quitter. If the back to back 10 then 20 mile runs are designed to fatigue your body, then I can testify they work a treat! I was exhausted for the rest of the day and spent most of it lying down, either in a bath, on a sofa, on a floor or on a bed. But I did it, and I did it at a reasonable pace too - about a minute longer than my goal race pace, which is as it should be.

Best of all, the niggles did not get worse. If anything, the extra TLC I lavished on them seem to cheer them up slightly. So I think I might be ready for London now!

For now, it's taper time, which means eating as many good foods as I possibly can, staying off booze and spending a lot of time on the massage and stretching side of things. I'm still aiming for 5 runs a week, with a couple more intensive sessions to go, but I won't push it if I feel the niggles are getting worse. My goal now is to make it to the start (and finish) line intact.