Reflections

Or, 19 weeks and counting...

So, 4 weeks on from the big day, I though it was time to both reflect and look forward. When we last met, I was still on the euphoria high of having completed the event, done a respectable time and enjoyed a great life experience. I still feel the same. I may have just about stopped lacing every conversation with marathon references and the finisher's T-Shirt only comes out once or twice a week, but there's still that warm glow thinking about it. And the almost £1200 raised for Marie Curie. Thank's again folks.

And, of course, the preparations. As I alluded to in here somewhere, I came to realise that forcing myself to stick to the discipline of the programme and actually see it through was unusual for me. More of a starter than a finisher, so I finally proved to myself that I can see things through.

I also proved a useful athletic fact, as witnessed by this photograph. In a tight sprint finish, a fists clenched salute is more aerodynamic than a hands spread one. If only runner 52080 had known this, he may have prevailed :-)

It is, of course, one of the rarest of photographs. A race photo where I don't look like I've just been kicked hard in the nuts. I must really have been enjoying myself.

Thing's I'd do differently? I'd try not to hit a run of leaving do's (including my own) at a crucial part of the late training and perhaps be more cautious about taking a holiday 2 weeks before the event. I should probably have done a few more miles in the taper weeks too, but these are all valuable lessons for next time.

Next time? But of course. The ballot for next year has been entered, but we have to wait until the end of September to find out whether we're in or not. In the meantime, what to do to fill that marathon-sized hole in my life?

I returned from London with many leaflets for the Autumn marathon season, but one in particular caught my attention. As an occasional visitor the the magnificent event that is the 24 Heures du Mans, plus driver of parts of the circuit on our Sucata adventures, the thought of running a marathon round there really caught my attention. Then I found out that this year's event would be the first to be held there.

So, for a motorsport fan and (now) marathoner, what could be better than running the inaugural marathon at one of the world's greatest sporting venues. Well, not much, as far as I'm concerned. So I am. Sunday October 3rd will see me on the start line for the Marathon du Mans. This, of course, means that a training programme will be required, so I need to get my ass into gear and start running again.

The one downside of London has been a very sore right foot, which felt initially like a stress fracture, but I've been assured isn't. I tried to run 2 weeks ago and made it about half a mile before having to turn around in pain. Tried again last Sunday, and while it was still sore, I managed 5.75 hilly offroad miles without too much discomfort. This was welcome, as I'd entered the Polaroid 10k series, which covers Helensburgh, Clydebank, Dumbarton and Vale of Leven. And Helensburgh was on Thursday.

Having decided the foot would survive, I wandered down with the idea of running sensibly, not least because no runs in 4 weeks makes Mark a horribly unfit boy. Of course, nothing like that happened, and race fever took over, which led to me pushing about as hard as I could for a 44:51 - about 2 minutes faster than I'd been targeting (and that was before I knew about the extra hills on the route).

But I needed a good hard run, so nothing lost. Went out today for the first real "just go and enjoy" run since London. Although with the heat and humidity, enjoy wasn't really the word. The route was particularly hilly, and after 2 miles of uphill at 4.5 miles, I decided to take the opportunity to stop and enjoy the view. Over the Clyde, up Glen Fruin. Remember, this is running, not training, so look up and remember why you run in the first place - love of being in the outdoors and the enjoyment of it. As I dwelled, a pair of Buzzards soared and swooped overhead, chirping and calling in an obvious courtship ritual, before heading for the woods and whatever it is a pair of lovelorn buzzards get up to in to woods on a warm spring day.

As I jogged on, I worked out that, to my surprise, it's only 19 weeks to the Marathon du Mans. Then, to my horror, that as I operate a 16 week training schedule, I need to start again in 3 weeks. Bollocks. Finally, I realised that the programme will start on June 14th. Which is the day I get home from, yes, you guessed it, this year's 24 Heures du Mans - where my son (aka The Boy) and I are going for a spot of male bonding and dicking around.



On that spooky symmetry, it's "a bientot" from me...

What a day

To slightly paraphrase the immortal words of Sir Edmund Hillary, "well, that's the bastard knocked off". An amazing day, an amazing event, an amazing feeling. Oh, and the hardest thing I've ever done in my life! Up front, I didn't make my target time, but to be honest, that's barely important right now.

After I left you this morning, an untroubled but rather busy commute got me to the Blue Start just after 0815. Plenty of time to loosen off, dump the kit bag, drink and warm up. They got us into the start pens (organised by expected time, I was in 4) just after 9, at which point the heavens opened and it absolutely pissed down for 20 minutes. Just like home. As soon as they take the tapes down and let the pens merge, much jostling and use of the grass verge ensues, and I ended up alongside a load of Pen 2 people. Lots of chat and banter all the way, a general longing for steak, chips and beer, and hearty "good lucks" all round.

0945 and we're off. Desperately trying to keep the pace sensible, which is actually quite easy becasue of the sheer number of runners. A quick dash to the loos at 2 miles (lesson lerned - go before, even if you have to leave the start pen. It's quicker to pass a few people than lose a minute in the loo) and I settled into a very steady pace, with 5ks in just under 25 minutes as I slowly brought myself back to bang on target pace by half way.

Or at least, what Garmin thought was target pace. As I checked the distance against the mile markers, it became apparent that with all the weaving across the road to find clear air, I was running slightly more than the posted distance, so I still needed some mental arithmetic at each mile marker to double check.

No real dramas in the first half, other than a slightly sore knee around Cutty Sark that soon passed. Just as I went over the half in 1:45:20, the men's leader came the other way, just passing the 22 mile marker. As I plodded on at my target pace, I was feeling OK, but it was pretty sticky and humid after the rain, and as the sun started to peek through it got pretty hot.

All was going well until 15 miles, when the top of my left thigh started to tighten rather horribly - the muscle that runs across the top of the anterior thigh from just under the groin. This area of my leg is often stiff during long runs, but never to this extent. Within half a mile or so, it was clear that I was going to need to slow down to see if it settled. It didn't, so Plan B was dusted down. The one that says "don't do any damage, ease off the pace and bring the vehicle home in one piece".

I hobbled on, in a fairly unseemly gait until mile 19, whereupon my bowels informed me that a "Paula" was in the offing. Fortunately some portaloos hove into view at this point, and I spent 4 minutes attending to matters. Oddly, when I came out, the thigh seemed to have settled a bit and I was able to push on at a slightly better pace for the next few miles. It started to tighten again around mile 24, but by this point you're starting to think "made it" and can afford to push on through the soreness. The appearance of Big Ben on the skyline constitutes the "not far now moment", and turning off the Embankment at  mile 25, I was starting to sport a smile and build up the sprint finish (officially the world's slowest, to be fair).

The last mile is just unbelievable. Up Birdcage Walk, the crowds (of whom more later) are so noisy it's untrue. The smile becomes a big grin as 600m to go appears, and that longed for right turn at the Palace is taken. Mustering the last reserves of energy for the final blast up The Mall I must be honest, I was feeling pretty euphoric. Slightly worried that the race photos will show this exhausted loon encouraging the crowds to greater cheering. I was absolutely ecstatic to cross the line - both because it was over and I'd done it.

So. My time? 3:52:20, officially. 8716th finisher and 1034th in the MV45-49 category. Well outside my target, but still under 4 hours, which I am very proud of. The splits of 1:45:20 and 2:07:00 tell the story of the race, the leg and the pit stop. Oh, and Garmin reckoned I did 26.75 miles. Just what you need.

The finish procedure is simple. Man snips timing chip of shoe. Woman presents medal. Man takes "Finisher" photograph. Wander up The Mall and recover Kit Bag.  All done in about 10 mins. Then it was off to the Marie Curie reception at the Charing Cross hotel for a shower, massage and refreshments. And that's it. The day is done.

Now, some other thoughts. The event itself is simply unbelievable. The organisation is like clockwork, the huge number of volunteers - without whom there'd be no race - are exceptional, and the crowds, well, there are almost no words to describe them. Every yard of the route is lined with enthusiastic, smiling and supportive people. Whether just encouraging, handing out sweets or fruit or bantering, they're special. Around the major landmarks like Cutty Sark and Tower Bridge they're 10 deep. Even round the canyons of Canary Wharf. it's mobbed, and from there to the finish they just build in numbers and support.

I simply can't express how much I enjoyed the day. The run could have been better, but so what, other marathons are available. But I don't think the day or the experience could. I'm very proud to be able to say "I am a Marathoner".

0 days and no more counting

Or, today's the day.

Well. Here we are. This is what all the training, talking, training, blogging, training and tweeting has been about. It's just before 7, I've eaten a light breakfast of bread and cereals, drunk some water and some Lucozade Sport. It looks dray and as if the cloud is going to break up nicely.

There's nothing else for it. I have to go and do this.

Race plan is simple. Steady pace all the way round and remember that if I start slow because of the sheer number of runners, I've got LOTS of miles to make it steadily back to target pace. That's all I've got.

Thanks again to everyone for all their support. Family, friends, colleagues, Facebookers, Tweeters. It's all been invaluable.

The hotel made sure it's evening menu had high carb options last night, which was a nice move. Thai Fishcakes with noodles followed by my first ever vegetarian main course of Tagliatelle & Courgette with a Basil & Tomato sauce - yummy - and I did allow myself a small but relaxing glass of Rioja to help with the nerves (it did).

To my immense surprise, I slept great - best sleep for about a fortnight. Woke just before 6 feeling refreshed, so I didn't need any of the 3 alarms scattered across the room OR the alarm call (paranoid, moi?).

As London Underground and SouthEastern trains provide free travel for competitors, the immediate future goes: walk to Westminster, Jubilee line to London Bridge, train to Blackheath, dump the kit bag, use the toilet 23 times, start.

After that, who knows?

1 day and counting

Or, Why do I keep counting?

So, I made it!!!! In London, registered, race number (here it is) locked in the safe in the room and just waiting now.

For once, the gods of transport smiled kindly on me and I made an untroubled journey south yesterday - even half an hour early into Heathrow. That's not the sort of thing that happens every day.

After checking in at my hotel (which includes a very nice iMac in every room, upon which this missive is being typed) I headed straight off to the registration expo at the ExCel centre in the Docklands. Despite the fears of huge queues, I managed to get registered and have my number and timing chip in my hand within 5 minutes of walking through the door.

The rest of the exhibition is a kind of runner heaven, wandering a hall full of suppliers of every kind of clothing, footwear, nutritional aid, gadget and training methodology you can find. There appear, for example, to be about 3,487 different types of running sock available and more things made of clingy Lycra than is strictly decent. I managed to restrict myself to a t-shirt, a fleece, and a surprising quantity of Lucozade Sport. There's the obligatory pasta party too.

All the charities have stands there and I managed to get my vest swapped for a more realistic size (Large?, cheeky buggers) by the nice people at Marie Curie, who also let me know that they can courier us to the post-race reception by bicycle rickshaw if the aching limbs can't face it. Nice. There are also representatives from other races there to publicise their event, and I appear to have collected approximately 20 of them. I really should know better.

Having said that, the Marathon du Mans, running round the circuit of the great 24 hour sports car race, looks fun. As does the Marrakech Marathon. And the Tromso Polar Night Half Marathon (at night, good chance of seeing Aurora Borealis). And the Marathon des Alpes-Maritimes (Nice-Cannes). I have a horrible feeling I may be developing a bug - although if you ask me again in about 28 hours,  the answer may be different.

Today shall be a day of (almost) rest. Didn't get quite the sleep I was looking for last night, but a gentle stroll around the shops is the order of the day. Plenty of water, plenty of carbs, use the walk to loosen off the legs that haven't run for over a week.

And, finally, I have been putting together an hour's music for tomorrow morning to help me chill and focus. All by The Music, who haven't featured as much as I expected in the videos on here, despite them writing some of the songs that connect most with me. Also, because there aren't many videos floating around out there. This is another of those home-made YouTube jobs, but this will be the last song I play before dumping the iPod in the kitbag and heading to the start.



More later...

2 days and counting

Or, here we go...

I'm home. Got back around 0100 this morning after a 22 hour day and, after 5 hours sleep, I'm up and about making preparations to head south for the big event. Got the boarding pass, got the shoes, the kit, the nerves, the vest, the giant Marie Curie daffodil costume (OK, that's  not true). Game On.

Still struggling to believe it's going to happen, but I suppose I have to and start getting my mental preparation sorted out. For some last amusement, I see they're shutting some of the far northern airports again because of ash, but I guess I could probably drive there now!

Starting to feel some nerves, or is it excitement, or perhaps both. The plan is to try and register at ExCel tonight to avoid the rush tomorrow, which will hopefully give me a day to recharge and recover some of the sleep I've lost in the last week. Not much physically to do now, other than a brief loosener tomorrow to check the legs still work.

So, as I head off I will leave you with one last piece of music. Some of you will know I'm a longstanding fan of Canadian band Rush, and there's really only one piece of music I can finish up with. Marathon.



Come on, you knew I would

To finish off the stats, last week's runs bring me up to 699 in training, and the 2 miler to loosen off tomorrow will get me over 700. Quite proud of that.

Watch this space...

3 days and counting

Or, maybe, just maybe...Been quiet here on account of my holiday in Egypt being somewhat extended on account of that Icelandic volcano thing you may have heard about on the news.Was supposed to be home on Sunday, and with every passing day I've been more and more pessimistic about actually getting home for the race.

But yesterday, some hope, with the rumour that all the cancelled Sunday flights would go today. And an 0530 call to the local office thus morning resulted in a "Yes, you fly at 1715". Now, this is all still to happen, but for the first time in a week I'm starting to allow myself the thought that I'll actually make it.

I will now put the blog on (at least) daily updates as my travel unfolds and, hopefully, I meander my way towards the start line.

Oh, and by the way, just in case toy think all I've been doing is lying in the sun and drinking beer, this is not so. I've also drunk a few Gin & Tonics. And done three six mile runs up and down the path that runs between the resorts and the baech in this part of Sharm el-Sheikh. Believe me, London's going to have to be pretty warm to match the temperatures here, even a 0730. Have also managed to carb load quite effectively too - potatoes for breakfast, rice and pasta for dinner, and loads of salted peanuts to replenish the salt lost through sweat.

Hopefully I'm back on track. Keep your eyes on here for more updates...