Triumphs and tears

I had never cried at the end of a race before. But as my legs somehow carried me past the finishing line in Venice, I started sobbing. Sobbing that it was over. Sobbing that something so hard was finished. A runner who finished beside me wobbled and collapsed into the arms of a volunteer at the line. After everything I had gone through to get here, I had somehow done it. I gathered myself. I hauled myself towards the line of volunteers handing out the medals. A woman put one, resplendent with the symbol of a Venetian gondola, over my head. I looked at it, trying to take it in, stumbled forward some more and a photographer smiled warmly at me and asked to take my picture. I could not help myself. I started sobbing again. She smiled and said, “it is about survival”. And it was. On that day it was. It was about survival. My legs staggered on. I took two bottles of water from the next line of volunteers. I took a drink from one. The other I just poured straight over my head. I was done. I was totally done. My Venice Marathon was over.

The joy and relief of the finish line

Just getting to the start line in Venice had been such a challenge, as I highlighted in my last blog, that to reach the finish line meant so much. To be blunt, the build up had not helped my preparation, with all the cancelled flights and hassle, and so as my wife and I left my mum’s house on Saturday morning to drive to Edinburgh for the journey to Venice, I was not too optimistic we would even make it there. A grey, foggy morning left me with visions of more flight cancellations and delays, but in the end the trip went smoothly. It did involve a train, a car, a flight, a shuttle train, another flight, a bus, a taxi, a tram and then a boat, but after leaving at 8.15am, we made it from Edinburgh to Munich and then to airport in Venice and on to the race expo to pick up my number and then on to our hotel at around 6.30pm that night. If nothing else, I was going to be able to race.

We made it! Collecting the number from the expo

We found a place for dinner, went and saw where I would catch the boat from in the morning (more on this shortly), bought a ticket for it, returned to the hotel and attempted to sleep. To be honest, I had not slept much since Wednesday night, there had been so much anxiety about the trip, so it was a fitful sleep until my alarm went off at 4.45am, in order for me to get the 5.35 boat.

At the water bus station before 5.30am

Now Venice is full of water of course, but the boat was not taking me to the start line. The boat was taking me to where the buses would go from to take us to the start, at a palace just outside the small town of Stra, twenty or so miles from Venice on the Italian mainland. On the packed bus out, all I could think of was, “wow, this is a really long way”.

But I got to the start in plenty of time, got to the toilets while they till had toilet paper and the queues were small. Then settled down to eat my breakfast of croissants, a porridge bar and some water – what I had been eating during my training runs – and then tried to relax before the actual start, which would be at around 9.40am. Using my bag for the bag drop as a ground sheet, I sat down to rest my legs for a bit, as it was obvious by this point – at around 8am – that this was going to be a very long and very warm day.

Relaxing the legs before the start

The race was being covered live by Italian TV, so the start time was a slightly movable feast, but as we got closer to the time, we were all moved into our respective corrals depending on the time we had said that we would complete the race in. I had said I was aiming for four hours thirty minutes so I was in the final corral and as the start time approached, I found the 4 hour 30 minute pacer group, and said that I hoped to follow them.

Waiting to start as the sun broke through the hazy clouds

As a helicopter hovered overhead, the countdown began to the start. The sun was already out. The temperature was around 17C and it was humid with it. This was not going to be a day about heroics, this was going to be tough going. The weather in Scotland may have cooled significantly through my training programme from the highs in August, but now this was to be a run in conditions more akin to a summer’s day in the North East of Scotland. Not my kind of conditions at all.

“run your own race”

We started. The initially very crowded path began to thin out a little and I tried to establish a rhythm. I had a target pace in mind and was determined to take in the scenic route as we followed a river for most of the first ten miles. Within the first few miles though I was falling behind the pace group. It was then that I began to tell myself, “run your own race”. I was not far behind them, but they continued to edge further ahead, even though they were walking through the water stations.

As the course made its way through various small towns and villages, the support there was massive, with so many of the locals on the streets with bells, horns and rattles urging everyone on. Cries of “Bravi!” and “Bravissi!” rang out from every group, along with the slightly worrying “Daje!!”, which means “come on!”, but in reality sounds like they are shouting “die” at you every couple of hundred yards!!

“there was no shade”

The scenery was beautiful and the course was pan flat, but there was no shade. The temperatures were continuing to climb. I always run with an electrolite drink, but I was also taking on water at every water station every 5km along the route. At around eleven miles I saw a runner with a Plymouth runners group shirt on, and she was walking. We chatted a little as I tried to encourage her on, but most of our chat was about how damned hot and humid it was. We came to a bridge, one of the few climbs on the course, and she started walking once again. I ploughed on.

At halfway I felt better than I had when I had run the Manchester Marathon the year previously, also in warm conditions, and I went through halfway at just over two hours and fifteen minutes. Now we ran into two larger towns, which would offer a bit more support and a few shaded parts (including a much needed underpass at one stage), but as we go to about 30km and out in the San Giuliano Park in Mestre there was not going to be any more shade until the end of the race.

“starting to struggle”

I had been pouring water over myself at every water stop for some time now, as well as drinking and taking my gels as planned, but I was starting to struggle. As we came out of the park we then came up to the bridge which connects mainland Italy to Venice. Four kms – dead straight – in the sunshine, in the heat of the day. I felt myself wilting. An ambulance came by, forcing all runners to the side of the road. Not far in front of me it stopped and by the time I passed, one runner, on a stretcher, wrapped in a tin foil blanket was being taken into it.

I just needed to keep going. My legs were beginning to feel like they were no longer attached to my body. My brain was struggling to process the reality of how far I still had to go. I passed thirty five km, still on the bridge, Venice seemed no closer than when I had got onto the bridge. Thirty six km passed. How far did I have still to go? How long did I still have to run? My brain could not figure it all out. Though I had drank and poured water over myself at thirty five km, I could not seem to cool myself down. Everything was getting hotter and more confusing.

“I was crumbling, slowly falling to bits”

We finally came off the bridge and into an industrial part of Venice. I felt like I was crumbling, slowly falling to bits. I was not thinking about quitting. I was not thinking about stopping. I was not thinking about pulling out. I was thinking about one thing. “How am I going to get from here to the finish?”. I tried everything to motivate myself on. I thought about my training runs. I thought about my friends. I thought about about my wife waiting near the finish line. The only way I was going to get there was to walk run the last few miles. I had very little left.

Many others were also walking at this point, I had overtaken many through the previous ten kilometres and so now I was one of them too. I walked as fast as I could, I ran a bit again. I walked a bit again. And then we started to come to the bridges. Fourteen bridges in the final 5km of the race. I resolved to walk up them and run down to use the momentum to get to the next. I picked up a bit of pace, but my legs were burning. We got to forty kms and another water stop. More water went over me than in me. Then we turned a corner and over in front was the pontoon that is only erected for race day to go across the Grand Canal to take us into St Mark’s Square. The view was stupendous.

St Mark’s Square lay directly ahead

As I crossed the peak of the pontoon I raised my hands in the air and began running again, after there being no crowds for such a long time, you could immediately hear the cheering as we approached the end of the bridge and the entrance to the square itself, as the course took us on a loop past the Campanile, the Basilica and the Doge’s Palace. It was such a privilege, but as we came out of the square there were still nine more bridges to go in that final mile.

“I was so desperate”

Walk up, run down. Walk up, run down. Walk up, run down. And then ahead I could see a crane. My wife and I had agreed that this was where she would be standing. I ran off the bridge closest to the crane. I looked and I looked and I looked and I could not see her. At that point I was so desperate to see a friendly face, but there was no sign. Maybe I had missed her. Maybe I was confused and this was not the crane. Was there another crane?

Another bridge. Walk up, run down. I am not sure by this point what was actually controlling my movements. All rational thought seemed to have disappeared. Walk up, run down. And then I came to the second last bridge and from the top I could see the finish line. A wave of relief washed over me, and as I looked down off the bridge, there was the lion rampant flag which Fiona was holding aloft. She was here!!! That was all I needed to get me to the line

“a sobbing mess with a medal”

Over the final bridge and past the 42km sign and then it was solely a case of keeping moving forward. My legs seemed to be pitter pattering across the cobblestones of those final couple of hundred metres. I could not hear the crowd. I could not hear anything. All I could see was the finish line getting closer and closer and closer. And a few seconds later, I was a sobbing mess with a medal, struggling to stand up.

Having now had some time to process the race, I am immensely happy with the effort on that day. Was it my fastest marathon? No. Does that matter? No. What matters is that I did it. I started 3790th and I finished 3093rd. More than six thousand people entered the event. I have to be pleased with that. There are many things which you can dictate in running, and there are things you cannot. The weather on the day is one of those. The build up as well was less than ideal, but the medal I have and will add to my marathon collection is the same, regardless of anything else.

I have now run five marathons. For someone who, seven years ago would have struggled to run the length of my street, that is an achievement of which I am immensely proud and to have done it in such a beautiful place was an incredible experience. Mind you, I cursed every one of the ten bridges I had to walk over to get back to my hotel!! I was totally shattered after the race, though managed to raise a smile for this photo back in St Mark’s Square. A few days of rest and recovery in Venice itself also really helped and I am taking a week off any running before I begin again, perhaps with some gentle miles this weekend. After such a huge effort, it is important to be kind to yourself in the aftermath.

Will I do another? Well, I got the annual kick in the teeth rejection from London on Monday but I am already on the lookout for another to do. Just maybe this time, something a little cooler please?

Venice Marathon? Completed it mate.

Trains and boats and planes

10.30am. Sunday morning. One of my final training runs done for the Venice Marathon. Relaxing in the house. And then it started. The first in a series of events which means there is no guarantee I can run in the Venice Marathon on Sunday morning.

I got an email from KLM – the airline we were due to fly to Venice with – our flight to Venice from Amsterdam on Saturday morning was cancelled. I was to wait and they would rebook us. My mind started racing. My work trip the previous week had gone with not problems. Why was this happening to us now?A few minutes later, another email. We were rebooked. Onto a flight on Friday night into Venice.

This would mean some changes to our plans but it was ok. We would actually get to Venice a bit earlier and could therefore spend more time on Saturday in the city. I had to cancel the hotel in Amsterdam we had previously booked for our overnight stay there (originally we could make the connection but the flight from Aberdeen to Amsterdam also got moved) and book into a hotel in Venice but this was ok. A bump in the road. Surely now, nothing else would change.

“I was stunned”

Run forward to Tuesday lunchtime. Another KLM email. I was beginning to dread getting email. Our flight from Venice to Amsterdam was cancelled for our return trip. How on earth were we supposed to get home? I was stunned. ANOTHER cancellation? How could this be happening? When we booked the trip, months ago, there were problems and we knew that Schiphol had continued to have issues, but this was nuts. Of the four original flights we had booked, three had now been cancelled. And this time, there was no immediate rebooking.

A few hours passed. I began to look into alternative ways to get home and saw there were other options, but then just as I was about to call KLM to find out what was going on, another email. We were rebooked. Now, rather than having seven hours in Amsterdam (caused when KLM cancelled our original return flight), we would leave later from Venice and have a three hour connection. Ok, this would work. We could breathe again.

“we were well and truly screwed”

And then Wednesday arrived. And Wednesday would turn out to be the most stressful day of all. Late afternoon and the next dreaded KLM email came in. Our flight to Venice on Friday was cancelled. Now remember, we were not even due to fly to Venice on Friday, KLM moved us onto that flight. And what was happening on Friday? An Italian air traffic control strike. Almost no flights are going to Italy on that day. We were well and truly screwed.

Now I do want to point something out here. I know this i inconsequential mush in the greater scheme of things; a true first world set of problems. Many more people have far worse things in their life to deal with than a few flights getting bumped around. But having worked hard for months to prepare for this, this was hard to take.

“anywhere we could get to”

In those moments it is challenging to think clearly. It is hard to step back and work out what to do, so I left it a couple of hours to see if KLM would sort things out, as they had done previously. But nothing came. So I called. By this point I was desperately looking at other locations we could fly into and then travel into Venice. Locations in France, places in Germany, Slovenia, anywhere where we could get to in order to make it to Venice by Saturday.

While the race is not until Sunday, you have to pick up your number from an expo in Venice before the race itself. No number, no race. So we had to get there in time to get the bib.

“close to cancelling”

I called KLM. The woman on the phone was pretty hopeless. There were no other options. The earliest they could get us to Venice was Saturday night. And then that flight was full. So it was Sunday night or nothing. By this point, we were very close to just cancelling the whole trip. All the sacrifice. All the miles. All the running. The early morning. While it would not all be for nothing – I have the health benefits from that of course – it looked like my ambition to run my fifth marathon was disappearing like a gondola going down a canal.

It was obvious the solution would not come from KLM, so I began to explore other avenues – friends were also messaging me with alternative routes. So we found one. A flight from Edinburgh to Munich and then on to Venice, leaving on Saturday morning and getting there late afternoon. We booked it. There is a chance I can still do the race. But this then also involved cancelling the hotel in Venice we had booked for Friday night, and then getting a train down to Edinburgh with family taking us to the airport on Saturday morning. Nothing was straightforward.

“there is nothing else I can do”

Now given how everything else has gone, I do feel a bit fatalistic about my chances. I am worried there will be some kind of delay or issue with these flights, but this is totally out of my hands. I can do no more. I have given myself a chance and i have also resolved in my head that if I do not make it, then we still have a few days to enjoy a beautiful city. Do not get me wrong, I will be devastated not to run after all the work, but there is nothing else I can do at this stage. It is back into the hands of the travel gods.

As a minor aside, I safely navigated my final few training runs- some very gentle short ones of only a few miles – and with everything else that has been going on, I have barely even been able to think about the actual race. All I have to do is get to Venice and then we will see how things pan out. If I do not get to race? I am sure we will still enjoy a nice holiday in the city, but I will be gutted.

Assuming we get there, then it is all about getting to the start line, which is 25km outside of Venice itself on the Italian mainland. And that is going to involve a really early start, a boat and then a bus. But we will worry about that if we make to Venice at all. After almost four months of training it has come down to this. I had hoped to write my final blog before the race from Venice, but so far I am writing it from home and our journey has not even begun. What a week.

Seven Days

I feel sluggish. My calves ache. My shins are sore. My hamstrings feel tight. I have eaten and drank way too much. Oh yes, the marathon taper is clearly now in full swing, I just need to recognise that this is all part of the process.

First, the aches and pains. As I understand it – from the science bit of the taper – what is happening is that your body is actually using this time to heal, and this is a good thing. After months of being put through the wringer a bit – lots of miles, five runs a week, a constant schedule of run, rest and repeat – when the miles ease down quite considerably, then your muscles actually start to do a bit of deep healing. What I am feeling right now will actually help me come race day – even if this week (and I am sure next week too) I will feel every twinge constantly.

“rest is what you need, both physically and mentally”

Now onto the sluggishness. This is much more in my head than anything else. Couple with the reduction in mileage, I suddenly find I have a bit more time on my hands (though this week perhaps not so much and I will come onto that), and spend a fair bit of that just resting and doing stuff around the house. The constant activity of the past three months has eased off and so you think that your fitness is draining away. It is not, it is just how you feel right now. The rest is what you need, both physically and mentally.

“great to see friends again”

And then there is the eating and drinking too much. Well, you know what, why not? This week I have actually been away with work for a few days to Munich in Germany. While this has kept me occupied, it also meant that I went out a couple of nights to enjoy time with my colleagues and to see some of the sights and bars of the Bavarian city. It was great to see friends again and to spend time with them both at work and also socially.

And my trip to Munich was not without exercise. I got in a couple of early morning runs when I was there, another opportunity to explore the cities which I visit. This was something I used to really enjoy in the days when I was travelling a lot with work; that opportunity to get out and about and to see parts of the city which I would never normally have had the opportunity to witness. Too often on work trips in the past I would see the airport, the hotel and the office in which I was working. This all changed when I started running six years ago and so it was really nice to get the chance to experience that once more.

On the first morning, I did a three mile run from my hotel right into the historic heart of Munich to Marienplatz. It was lovely and flat and with some beautiful buildings to view.

A misty morning in central Munich

On the second morning, a colleague encouraged me to run from the hotel to Westpark to get in a four mile run. This would take me past the area where the Oktoberfest celebrations had been held a couple of weeks ago – and in fact they are still dismantling all of the tents which were there – and into the park. I was hesitant to do this, but really glad I did, as it was really nice to get into the park and run through it’s leaf strewn paths. And this was part of the reason I was reluctant to go there. Right now, I am totally paranoid about slipping, tripping or falling, and running on wet leaves is a true recipe for disaster. Another aspect of the good old taper time!

A very calm morning in Westpark, Munich

Those runs safely negotiated, then it was down to my final Saturday morning run of the training programme – an eight mile run, which I planned to do on the roads close to my house in Aberdeen, having returned home on Thursday night. I started my training programme back in the summer, when the heat and scorching sun was the main problem. Well, I would finish my training pogramme in the kind of weather which rather typifies a winter training schedule for a Spring race.

it was breezy when I headed out but only raining slightly. I had swithered about whether to wear my rain jacket, but as it was still dark at this stage (I set off at 7am) I put it on as it is luminous yellow which, from a safety point of view, was the right thing to do. Within about three minutes of leaving the house, the heavens opened and it absolutely tipped it down. I actually bumped into a friend at this point, driving home from a nightshift and we joked about the rain and she offered me a lift. Little was I to know at that point that while that initial shower would ease off, the rain would later turn biblical and the wind would be whipping up, blowing eve more perilous leaves into my path. I swear on my runs this week, I have spent ninety per cent of my time just looking down at the next ten feet in front of much, making sure my footing is secure.

The slip hazard mound of leaves

As I got to between five and six miles and I turned direction, the wind was then head on. The rain was battering down now. Every exposed part of skin – legs, hands, face – was now being peppered with stinging rain drops. It was as if the drops were small bits of ice being thrown full force onto my body. I have written before about how sometimes I talk to the weather to let it know my views. Well this morning I went full on Miriam Margoyles reflecting on the UK government (look it up if you have not heard it) and let out my frustration as my legs turned even deeper shades of purple and my hands began to lose feeling in the fingers.

At least only doing eight miles meant that it was over relatively quickly, but I was very relieved when I turned once more and the wind was behind me for the final mile or so. Normally when I reach my house, I head straight to the kitchen to get a drink or maybe a bite to eat. This time? I was so cold and wet that I basically stripped off and went straight into a hot shower in an attempt to get some heat back into my bones. It is a long time since I have run in conditions like that.

But you know what? It is done. The final long run of the training plan. And despite everything, I felt really comfortable and strong throughout. This is the part which I have to take forward into next week. I feel really good. Even with the sluggishness, even with the aches and pains, even with the dodgy diet. I feel ready.

This week there are only a couple of very short runs to do – a couple of miles each midweek – and as much as anything, those are just to prevent you from going completely stir crazy. On Friday, my wife and I fly to Amsterdam, and then on Saturday morning to Venice. Fingers crossed, my next blog will be from there, on the eve of the race. After everything – the heat, the sun, the wind, the tiredness, the aching bones, the relentless runs, the rain, a bit of travel, and finally the cold weather, Venice Marathon race day is almost here. One week to go.

Let’s (not) Go Crazy

I have reached the stage now of marathon training where nothing I am going to do now is going to make my performance in Venice any better. The hard training is done. The miles are banked and in my legs. I am in the best shape I am going to be in. However, there is plenty I could do which could make it worse. This is now the art of the taper.

After the past three months, where the mileage has steadily built – week on week – you reach a peak of your training schedule. The part where you run as far as you are going to do prior to the race itself. This does not mean that you actually run the full race distance – though I know a lot of people who, for 10kms and halfs for example, want to do that before race day just so they know that they will be able to manage it. For a marathon, generally around twenty miles is the furthest distance most people go, though for me I got to twenty two miles last week in a single run and forty five miles in total for the week.

“all your fitness is draining away”

From now until the day of the race itself, it really is just about nursing your way through it, reducing the miles (though not necessarily the intensity) and making sure you get to the start line as rested as you can be. N0w this period – as I have mentioned before – can trigger maranoia, that sense that all your fitness is draining away, that every ache and pain you ever had is magnified a thousand per cent, and your brain tries to trick you into believing that running less mileage is the last thing you should be doing. I have continued running this week – with pleasant evenings like in the picture below – as it is just another phase of the preparation.

Tapering does not mean not running, just easing back

This is why I say that all I could do now is make things worse. I could make things worse by running too much “just to check my fitness”. I could make thing worse by doing something different, like weight training, “just to boost my fitness a little bit”. I could make things worse by wearing new shoes, or wearing new clothes, or changing the drink I use when running, or trying new gels, or trying new food, or in fact, trying just about anything that I have not been doing for the past three months. This is not the time. This is the time to fall back on your training and understand what has got you to this point.

What has got me to this point is sticking to the plan. What has got me to this point is not pushing it too hard beyond what I believe I can do. What has got me to this point is believing, even when things have been tough and there have been plenty of those moments, that the training plan will pay dividends in the end. This is where I am now.

“hardly anything at all”

After running forty five miles last week, this week I will likely run about thirty miles or so – still a hefty amount, just not as much as before – and then next week, that will reduce down further to between twenty and twenty five miles, and then in the final week, will be hardly anything at all. Until the day itself of course, when four months of sweat and toil gets condensed into one big effort.

Right now, I feel really good. I have taken a huge amount of confidence from my recent twenty and twenty two mile long runs, on top of everything else, and my running this week has, for the most part, been very comfortable. I led a couple of JogScotland 10km groups this week and those were likely my hardest runs until I reach Venice, where I was pushing a bit harder than I would be doing normally at this stage, but now they are done, they are just another part of the plan. And then on Saturday I ran a very relaxed twelve miles early in the morning.

Leaving the house around dawn for the twelve mile run

It is crazy to say it, but twelve miles at this point barely felt like getting out of bed. After a couple of runs which have lasted the best part of three and half hours and more, I was amazed at how quickly the run passed. Before I knew it, I was back home and heading for breakfast number two of the morning at just after nine o’clock in the morning.

I will not be at JogScotland for the next few weeks, this is partly planned and partly accidental, as this week I am actually going over to Munich in Germany for a few days for work. I will plan to run when I am there, but the distances are quite short, only three and four mile runs, so this trip should not disrupt the training at all. Next weekend will be around an eight mile run and then in the final week before the race, just a couple of two mile runs to keep me from going completely stir crazy.

It is all about trusting the process; believing in the science which lies behind the tapering methodology. I know it is not for everyone, there will be some who will continue to build until the day of their event, so it is about what works for you. Tapering has got me through four marathons so far, and in fact, it was a year ago this weekend that I ran my last marathon, with my friend Jeanette, on a warmer than anticipated October day.

Jeanette and I with the bing

That was a tough day at the office. Another day learning in the school of marathon pain. But we got through it, and knowing that we got through it only adds to my self-belief. As I said at the start, now it is about making sure I take the self belief of the training, of all the work so far, and translate that into an easy couple of weeks, rather than anything crazy. Fourteen days to go.

More

The bulk of the work is done. The miles – sometimes great, sometimes grating -of the training programme have reached their peak and now it is all about winding down for the race in Venice in three weeks. Twelve weeks of building has got me to this point. All I have to do is bring it home. (though that in itself is a big ask).

When I started my training for Venice, it was not as if I was starting from nothing, but the big distances seemed very far off in those hot days back in July and August where anything approaching a half marathon distance felt very, very hard indeed. But it is those miles then, through those tough conditions, that means I am where I am now. And where I am now is as good as I could have hoped for. But in reality, I have still achieved very little.

“the scale of the task ahead”

This weekend is always one of true inspiration I feel for running in the UK. To watch the London Marathon take place and not be stirred by the efforts of the thousands who take on and complete the challenge must mean you have a heart of stone. It is the one race which, I think, any runner in the UK would really want to enter and complete, and a huge well done to everyone who raced there, or at the Loch Ness Marathon here in Scotland over the weekend. I have entered the ballot for next year’s race, but watching those pass the start line and then run to the finish in the Mall in front of Buckingham Palace has just emphasised to me the scale of the task ahead.

No harm in applying once more

But that is not to say that I do not feel prepared. I feel ready and my long run this weekend has built on the confidence and resilience which has been growing for the past few weeks in particular as the runs have stretched out closer to that magical twenty six point two number.

“perhaps I would not make it”

I had chosen this weekend to repeat my route from a couple of weeks ago when I ran twenty one miles, adding in a longer section around the thirteen mile mark to aim to reach twenty two miles and then finish at parkrun at Aberdeen beach once more. I went out really early – leaving the house just after 6.15am when it was still pretty chilly – and if my pacing went to plan I would reach the start just before 9.30am. However, in those early miles I was running slightly slower than my pace goal, so I began to think that perhaps I would not make it.

It was a chilly start

Unconsciously, this meant I stopped looking at my watch – I have it set on average pace rather than distance ran – and just ran by how I was feeling. I was feeling pretty easy, my breathing was controlled, and while the gradual climb in the run up to about thirteen miles felt a bit tough, I was relaxed and knew I would recover when it returned to flatter ground.

“I had speeded up”

And so it proved. My fuelling went to plan, taking gels at six, twelve and then seventeen miles, while also nibbling a peanut munch bar in between, and crucially, with the addition of new running underwear, there was no undercarriage chaifing going on either, so this helped add to the comfort. Please do not read this and think this was easy, quite a lot of things were hurting as the distance wore on – more on that in a minute – but I then realised, as I got to about seventeen miles, that I had speeded up. My average pace time had come down quite significantly, and I was indeed going to make parkrun in time.

Sunny and warm conditions at the beach

This came as such a pleasant surprise. I had not been forcing the pace. I had not been trying too hard. I had not been running at a pace I felt was not sustainable. I had just naturally speeded up. So much so, that I got to parkrun a few minutes before it started so then had to endure the lapping at the back which did my head in a few weeks earlier. When we got going, I felt strong, with no doubt that I was going to reach my twenty two mile goal. And when I finished and looked at my time, I could not quite believe it. I had run the second eleven miles, quite a bit quicker than the first. Now my challenge is to repeat this in three weeks.

Really pleased with these splits

My dream for a race is to run the second half quicker than the first; to use the goal of the finish line to drive on from the base which has been built up. The run yesterday would certainly appear to back that up, that this is possible, that this i achievable, that going out sightly slower than I had planned and then letting this build naturally would be the way to go. I only hope that I have not had the best run of the entire programme three weeks before the actual race day.

The other thing I found about the run was how warm I felt towards the finish. I mentioned earlier about how chilly it was when I started, so I had gone out with two layers on. This will not be doing when I am in Venice. I should also mention that on my run yesterday I wore (with the exception of the base layer) all of the clothes I am going to wear on the day (down to my socks) and I ran in the shoes I will use. Remember, nothing new on the day of the race itself.

Before settling down to watch London today, I also ran with my friend Cara. Now you might think it is bonkers to run the day after doing a twenty two mile effort, but the four miles this morning was really important to help loosen my legs off as I had felt very stiff. It was also a lovely morning to be out, but boy, those opening couple of miles were hard to get through.

Nice relaxed miles with Cara

This run also took me to my peak mileage throughout my whole training plan. It has been about steadily building the miles through the plan, with a couple of blips where life rather got in the way, or I went a few miles further than the plan dictated. But every inch counts, and this is where I have got to so far. I am also now closing in on one thousand miles for the year.

The past twelve weeks of the training programme

What now then? This where we enter a period training now as tapering, where you reduce the distance you run quite significantly. This is to allow your body a bit of time to recover and build more strength but it also the time when the word “maranoia” comes to the fore. This describes a feeling a paranoia about the marathon as you desperately try and avoid any last minute illness or injury that could get in the way of you reaching the start line.

Personally, I have not really enjoyed tapering before, though I am more relaxed now than I was when I started marathon running five years ago and looking ahead to next weekend and “only” having a twelve mile run to do is a really appealing prospect.

But it is what it is. Now I can add in looking at the long range weather forecast for Venice to the list of things to worry about – not that you can do anything about the weather anyway – but it is all just part of the process. The process has got me this far, but there is more to do before I can achieve what those runners in Berlin last weekend, London and Loch Ness this weekend have done. Three weeks to go.