Naomi's 100 marathons

New Forest marathon - #107

2011-09-27T15:25:00.002+01:00

Plan A - beat 4:09:26 (previous course time)
Plan B - beat 4 hours
Result - 3:47:41, a 22 minute course best

I really liked this race when I did it two years ago, but suffered with a dodgy stomach and ran 10 minutes slower than I wanted to. I wasn't sure if 4 hours was on because it's a hilly course and I only did 3:56 on the flat Vilnius course a few weeks ago. As it was a training run, I decided to run fairly comfortably in the first half and see what happened after that, ideally without too much of a positive split. Ideally, I'd run all the hills and not stop to stroke the ponies.

It was great to see some old friends with lots of 100 clubbers out. I had a nice chat with Dave Lewis (who beat me by 8 seconds, another 1/4 mile and I would have had him) who wondered if I'd lost weight lately. I made some comment about not carb loading quite as often as I used to. I know I'm a fraction smaller at the moment but didn't think it was noticeable, christ, maybe marathons were making me a bit of a porker After a few foreign races, it was good to be back in a UK race where you see people you know all the time.

My right ITB's been tight for a few days and my hip's playing up as a result. By 15 miles or so, it was pretty sore and by 17 miles I was having a reasonably sized wobble, it was hurting quite a bit, there were more hills, I was hot and dehydrated and low on energy. But that's standard at 17 miles no? I had one of those elevenses bars (not the nice ginger one, the sickly chocolate one) and got half of that down with a lot of water. By 19 miles, I was feeling much better. One of the marshals had told me I was 25th lady at about half way which works two ways. You're not going to get on the podium, no matter how good your second half is, but top 25 isn't too shabby. That extra bit of motivation kept me running up all the hills, even the big nasty one at 22 miles. As I went up, a supporter starting shouting "Whoo, go lady runner!" (there was a lot of encouragement to the girls, we must have been few and far between) but I was tracking down a girl ahead of me and shushed the supporter, pointing ahead of me and putting my finger on my lips. She thought this was hilarious and mimed shooing me up the hill. I passed the girl about two thirds of the way up, she hadn't heard me coming.

I knew it was all downhill from 23 so stepped on it a bit, last 3 in 8:38, 8:26 and 8:15 with the last 1/4 mile at 7:30 pace. I took out 3 or 4 other ladies in that stretch and finished 18th of 150 ladies, sod the legs!

Race notes:
Lovely course, with lots of very scenic stretches and loads of ponies
Loads of water stations, but nothing else on offer
Some great support for a smallish marathon, especially the signs up the hill
Directions to parking were rubbish
It's a bit galling when they have free food for "runners" but all the half runners have scarfed it before you get there. They've only run half the distance too!
The only good thing about the goody bags was the Waitrose bag for life. Has whoever makes those oaty biscuit bars ever sold one? They're in half the goody bags across the land!
Fab 3 mile downhill finish, though it doesn't feel very downhill when your legs are about to fall off
Extra mentions to the men with a Viking warship and the firefighters with oxygen tanks. Very impressive.
And thank you to the marshal at the turnaround point who made me laugh when he pointed at me and said "I'll see YOU at the finish"

Vilnius marathon

2011-09-27T15:24:00.004+01:00

Some time ago, it seemed like a good idea to use marathons as an excuse to visit lots of places I wouldn't ordinarily have gone to, ie. an excuse for a lot of weekends away. Flights were cheap, short haul journeys swift and painless, small European cities charming and dirt cheap. Sadly, in these times of high commodity prices, flights are not a total bargain (still cheaper than visiting my mum near the Lake District by train), short haul journeys are a total pain in the arse if you fly through Luton or Heathrow and the euro has priced most of us out of EU cities. On the positive side, they're still charming, especially as the tourists can't afford or be bothered to go there any more.

I've run Nottingham a couple of times and fancied a marathon somewhere different this weekend, and the choice was Wroclaw, Tallinn and Vilnius. I can't remember why we chose this one, I think it might have been the cheapest and didn't involve running around a traffic cone. Or so we thought, there was one turn around a traffic cone, repeated 4 times, policed by a chip mat and a bloke in army fatigues lying in the bough of a tree looking supremely comfortable and half asleep. The sod.

So we ended up in Lithuania, and it's quite nice really. The local dishes are terrible and makes you wonder just how bad the food was before they had any money but the city is rather sweet, full of crooked streets, ankle turning cobbles and millions of churches. Saturday is definitely wedding day, we saw a lot of shiny puffy frocks that you wouldn't want to wear near a naked flame. Maybe love is in the air, as we walked along the banks of the river, the Lithuanian for "I love you" and "I love you too" were planted into opposite banks with flowers. The effect was dampened slightly by all the broken glass about and the scary looking down-and-outs dangling fishing rods into the river.

I wasn't looking forward to Sunday's marathon in the slightest and because I was avoiding thinking about it so much, overdressed on autopilot purely because it was a bit nippy at 9am. Two layers, capris and Mark's gloves were huge overkill especially by the finish when it was pretty damn hot and the freebie tech t-shirt that acted as a second layer chafed a big gash under my arm within 5 miles. I had to carry it the rest of the way which made me look like I had a giant pink boxing glove on.

The race was quite nice, 4 laps of a loop down the river and around the town with plenty of company from the other races. The relay runners were generally shit, each leg was 10.5km but hardly any of them seemed to be capable of running the whole lot without stopping. I passed one walking about 6km in. In the full, there were a few ladies knocking around at my pace and a 100 clubber complete with cowboy hat I didn't recognise who turned out to be an American, running about my pace and told me to call him Cowboy. Seemed a bit familiar, but I suppose you should respect local customs. My strategy was to have a solid training run and ideally pick up the pace each lap. It didn't really happen. My pace felt very comfortable for the first half, to the point where Cowboy said "Jeez, you're so quiet, I can't hear you breathing!" I lost him after some time and started to pick off the odd lady but only because they were falling behind rather than because I was speeding up. It was the usual put more effort in to maintain the same pedestrian pace.

I'd hoped to speed up in the last lap but I was too knackered and dehydrated by then, the water stations were spaced really poorly and only gave you a thimble of liquid in each cup. Fortunately my pacing meant no walk breaks were needed and that my pace didn't slip too much. Sub 4 was a bit tight though, I managed 3:56:56. To be honest, the 3:30 seems impossible at the moment. It was enough for 7th lady of 28 (about 250 runners in total, it's not a girl's game round these parts). After the Cyberman style walk back and a shower, we'd cleverly booked into the spa to which our apartment was attached. A light massage was blissful, it got rid of just enough soreness without making you chew the pillow. A calm dark room, no sweaty kit, loads of fluffy towels and no smell of liniment were far from a brisk rub down in a gazebo from a chatty physiotherapist. I got the better deal than Mark whose "herbal ball" massage seemed to consist of hot towels being slapped on him. His paper g-string made me giggle too.

It's now 4pm and I have been awake for 14 hours due to the obscenely early flight where I sat next to a giant Russian-looking man who seemed to gradually expand and fill more and more of my seat as time passed. His forearms were bigger than my biceps and I wouldn't have been surprised if the girth of one of his thighs was as much as my waist. He snored too. I was too scared of him to elbow him in the ribs so just had to push Mark towards the aisle. At least if I stuck behind him through security, I wouldn't be the one having my bags searched.

Helsinki marathon

2011-09-27T15:24:00.002+01:00

I've just read this back and it's boring. Sorry kids.

I can't comprehend how I've run over 100 marathons, or why. It's so bloody far and takes hours. I am quite out of practice, it being 3 months since my last marathon, the longest gap in 2 1/2 years, and have had to do long training runs for the first time since then. 2 had gone ok and 2 had gone appallingly so Helsinki was likely to end with a whimper rather than a bang, even if I did resist the temptation to go bombing off.

Continuing to get my excuses in early, it was a 3pm start which isn't right for all manner of reasons. I'd had a long day on Friday, only arriving at the hotel after midnight, and then had to walk to the start, back to the hotel and back to the start again before the race, which was over 90 minutes in total. It was also pretty warm and windy. Not terrible conditions but a fair bit is over the islands and waterways and quite exposed. I decided to run to feel and try to enjoy it.

It was an enjoyable race, the Scandinavian countries are brilliant for running with all their cycle ways and their races have a great atmosphere. None of that aggression in French races, nor the stinkiness of German races. This was very civilised and polite, with hardly any argy bargy even in the first k. It amused me to notice I was wearing one of 3 pairs of Stella McCartney running shorts within 5 square metres in the start pen. I've never seen any in a race before, other than my own, and here were 3 of us, all in virtually the same ones.

The route was rather nice, some of it in the city centre but a lot just outside, over small islands and some very pretty bridges in the later stages. Luckily it wasn't too big a race so the cycle paths weren't too crowded. There was quite a bit of gravelly path too, and not a small amount of cobbles. It was largely flat with a few bumps, noticeably a steep 50 metres at 15km, a longer climb at 40k and a hoick up a small bump just before the 42k marker that wasn't at all welcome. Running into the stadium for the last 200 metres was great, especially as I had my name and club called out. No matter what I think about the marathon being devalued, I was quite proud to be announced as a member of the 100 club.

My legs had indeed forgotten how to run for the best part of 4 hours and got slower and slower throughout. Half way in 1:49 was steady but likely to be followed by a positive split. It was feeling really really really long though, glaciers were traversing valleys, layers of rock being laid down on the Jurassic coast and whole continents were separating from each other in the time it took to get round this race. I'd been drinking loads of lemon Gatorade (much more refreshing than sticky orange flavour) and chucking water over myself at each of the very frequent water stations and was now walking through them for a bit of a break. The distance was a bit too much for me though, and I need a few more goes at the full 26.2 before I have another bash at the PB. How I used to do this every weekend, or even on consecutive days is baffling.

When I finished (3 hours 50) and had collected my drinks and stuff (including a delicious yoghurt drink, and chocolate weetabix, not sure why they gave us that), I lay on the grass of the stadium trying to get the pain to subside. It was awful. How had I normalised this distance so much that I forgot how much it hurts? I had the shakes really badly so decided to get back to the hotel for a hot bath rather than try to find 10 in 10 Chris and his daughter who was running her first. It took a lot longer than the usual 30 minutes, in fact, I got overtaken by an old lady with a stick by the lake. She had the inside line, but still, that's embarrassing.

Oh yes, I had reindeer meatballs for lunch yesterday. They would have been nicer if they hadn't been so undercooked.

Stockholm marathon - #104

2011-08-15T11:42:00.004+01:00

This was meant to be a PB race and I'd done all those things you're meant to do for races like getting expert advice and training and tapering and thinking about strategy and stuff. I even had a pacer which was one of the thing worrying me the most, I have been known to get grumpy in marathons and it would have been a bit rude to have a go at the person trying to help me out. So all the ducks were in a row for Saturday, they'd even brought the race start forward to 11.30 and the weather was perfect apart from being a bit blustery.

The plan was for 7:55s and we started off right on pace. You usually have to hold yourself back in the first mile no? Especially if it's downhill? Not this time. Curious. The route is a very handsome one indeed in Stockholm, lots of long stretches along the water and a nice chunk through the park. It is, however, two laps with the first half of each lap net downhill and the second half net uphill and including a stonking big bridge. There's also a strong and admirable environmental aspect to the race, but water in cups rather than bottles and only on one side of the road makes for lots of congestion and many elbows. The Scandinavians are tall and the bulk of these elbows are inconveniently at female bosom height. Ouch.

The pace was feeling quite fresh very early on which I didn't like, I wanted the first half to be easy or at least easy enough to be able to have a bit of a conversation, there were some extraordinary outfits on show which I pointed and went Ugh at. Mark seemed quite happy trotting along beside me but soon looked a bit bored. By the time we'd done the first lap at 17k, I was already having to concentrate on my form and by the time we got into the park at 20k I was trying very hard not to panic. I have no idea why the effort level was so high but I've run enough of these marathons to know that you can have all your ducks in a row but you still need a bit of luck on the day and my legs weren't cooperating.

Anyway, we got through half way in 1:46 which indicated the 3:30 was off given how shit I was already feeling. I didn't mention any of this to Mark of course. The next target was 25k, then the dreaded 25-30k, my least favourite chunk by far. Ideally, you coast through to 25k, have a wobble in the next 5k (it's so FAR! I don't need to do this any more! I don't want another sodding medal!) then mentally it's all downhill from 30k. But getting to 25k wasn't easy and the undulations and cross wind in the park didn't help. Mark was now looking really really bored especially when I fell off the back on every single incline. I felt responsible.

So what do you do? You just keep going as best you can, while feeling like you're letting your coach down and boring the pants off your pacer. Shame I didn't get to try the pickled gherkins at 21k, or the vegetable stock at 33k but I was putting everything into it and was already feeling a bit sick. The camber was screwing up my right ITB and glute and the incline up the bridge raised a bit of discord. This was the only point where Mark urged me to put some effort in. I thought this was deeply unfair because if I wasn't putting any effort in up a 30m ascent in less than 1/2 a km, then I'm not sure where else I could have been. If he'd bullied me on the flat then maybe I could have worked a bit harder but not up that slope. Luckily I was too disappointed with myself to get grumpy so I just felt a bit more morose.

Off the bridge, right hip now really sore, Samba band on the corner (all the blokes drifted to the left to look at the young girls who looked quite chilly, and quite bored, giving me the first clear run round the racing line to the right), then on and on and on and on until the longed for coke oasis. It was flat and out of a huge, lorry sized container but it tasted like nectar. The sticky floor afterwards made us laugh too. The last 5 or so k are all uphill and it was all a bit tired. Very nice finish on the bouncey track in the Olympic stadium, shame the garmin came out quite so long (normally get 0.2-0.3k long, this was almost 0.6k extra), shame the medal didn't have a ribbon, shame I couldn't walk the 200m to the race village without slumping onto a bit of ground in a lot of pain for 10 minutes. At one stage, the waves were washing in and out, you know when you can hear the rushing in your ears and the sick rising in your throat because it hurts so much? Yeah, like that. I had to go down a ramp backwards. What a knob. The DOMS is still pretty bad and I think I may have been running on a broken toe (it's been uncomfortable for weeks but now is suspiciously immoveable, unweightbearable, very sore and very swollen). Why race a marathon and end up in such a mess when you can ease off a bit, only add 10 minutes to your time and have a great day out, eating gherkins, mocking all in one lycra jumpsuits and looking at the scenery? I feel like I missed out a little bit.

Oh yeah, the time, almost forgot about that. It was 3:38:37 which I'm not all that disappointed with to be honest, I don't think I could have run that much harder. Sure, the 3:30 was possible on paper but for whatever reason it wasn't going to happen on Saturday. I do know that I ran my legs off, and that I didn't think oh fuck it and start walking, and that it bloody hurt from about 19km, and that I had a very good pacer who could possibly have been a bit tougher on me but probably doesn't want to see me suffer too much. I'd quite like the 3:30 to happen when I'm not looking, like my other 3:3x PBs but there are plenty of other races.

Apart from that, it was a great weekend. I like bagging marathons in new countries especially in cool places with excellent company. Fuck the carbon footprint. And the cost. Did you read Mark's blog?

Shakespeare marathon - #103

2011-08-15T11:38:00.003+01:00

Having had a couple of shockers at Brighton and London, I really wanted a decent run at Shakespeare. It wasn't a target race, but was my last long run before Stockholm in 3 weeks and important for my confidence, as even an attempted 20 miles last weekend ended up with me crawling home totally wiped out and very demoralised. It wasn't going to be easy, even at 9:00 minute miles, as I'd done some really tough training sessions during the week: a hilly off road 10k in 7:40s on Monday, 7.5 miles of 6 x 4-minute intervals on Tuesday, 11 miles at target marathon pace on Thursday, and an "easy" 5 miles on Saturday, that became 7 miles at 8:30s. I was rather tired.

The plan was to set off very slowly and this was achieved thanks to the many many thoughtful people who had placed themselves right up the front and set off at about 11 or 12 m/m pace. Our fault for getting to the start so late but my determination to be totally relaxed meant I was so laid back we almost missed it, particularly because it wasn't where we thought it was. Mark had forgotten his chip and had to run back to the car too. No stress here! After a few miles of jostling and tripping over people it got fractionally clearer but there were still dozens of people with earphones. They seemed keen on running about 4 yards out from the kerb when we met the main road too. Time penalties for all of them.

I wasn't paying much attention to my garmin this time and was keeping myself slow by chatting to people, there were loads of 100 Clubbers out, a few Fetchies including one (apologies, I didn't catch your name) who was pacing a mate to a 1:50 half. Poor mate was blowing out of his arse by 3 miles and down on his target already, I hope he didn't suffer too much, but suspect he did. I spent the hillier mile chatting to 10 in 10 Chris, and blame him fair and square for my slowest mile of the race Nah, not really, it was a slow mile the second time round (though not quite as slow!).

The Greenway was fine on the first lap, the rain had taken most of the dust out of it and it was still reasonably cool and still. It got a lot sunnier and claggier on the second lap, with a wind coming in from the side, rather vexing as it ought to have been behind us after being in our faces on the way out. The second lap had gone really well, legs were feeling pretty comfortable and the inclines manageable, and I was feeling positive. The Greenway is rather a test as it's long and straight and goes from about 20 to about 25 miles so you know this is where things can go a bit wrong. Luckily I was feeling fine, and knew I only needed 10 min/miles for a sub 4. I wanted to push the last few miles if I could but wasn't getting much acceleration (only the last mile was an 8:12) but was still passing loads of people, only one took me back in the last 6 miles, so that was a nice confidence boost.

Having worked through the last few miles, sub 3:50 was possible and I finished in 3:48:34, faster than either of Brighton and London, and a negative split of 1-2 minutes. Very very pleasing. I'm not sure how on earth I'm going to run almost 20 minutes quicker than that in 3 weeks' time, especially given the state of glutes afterwards (they really really hurt ) but it was a good training week. Intervals tomorrow

PS. This is the sort of freaky leg thing that happens when you do too much running. No, I don't have metal struts in my legs.

2011-04-19T15:31:00.000+01:00

I had another disappointing run at London. Having started ok, if not terribly fresh, it became clear at 12 miles that it would be a long haul. The incline over Tower Bridge is nothing more than a slope, and yet it felt like hard work! The last 10 miles of the race were a bit of a drag but luckily there was a superb collection of cheering Fetchies at 22 miles to look forward to, and to provide a blissful G&T, all ready mixed and in a sports bottle so I could take it with me. It certainly helped me get through the last 4 miles! The 4:02 finishing time was woeful and left me thinking that I ought to retire from marathons after Stockholm. I'm definitely not entering any autumn races for the time being.

Spotting the G&T after 22 miles

Brighton marathon - #101

2011-04-13T12:00:00.000+01:00

It wasn't a very auspicious start when I missed my train out of Victoria, the Boris bike got me there with 10 minutes to spare but I couldn't find a docking station, and the one I eventually found was full. The nearest one was a 5 minute walk away. I wasn't too fussed as it gave me time to get a cup of tea but it did mean I missed a few people at the start. It was the first outing for my 100 club vest and the occasional reaction was wonderfully positive, especially the people who said something along the lines of "blimey!" when I went past (of course it could have been something else entirely they were commenting on). It made me feel like it really was worthwhile, and I had a few people comment on how young I seemed to be to be wearing it.

Bit of a Where's Wally pic, but this is the best one of me in my vest that I didn't have to pay £25 for

The plan was to run the first half at 8:20 - 8:30s, then the second half at 8:00s. The start of the race felt very fresh and comfortable but sticking to 8:30s was proving near impossible, having to bounce up and down a lot to keep the pace down. It was also quite tiresome having to be so glued to the garmin, I was checking it 2 or 3 times a mile and it was doing my head in a bit. I think I would rather have run this one to feel rather than to pace, but it was an experiment, and progressive running had worked for the Finchley 20.

The first half was in 1:48, only 2 minutes faster than planned, so that was fine, but as soon as I tried to accelerate it felt difficult. I got to 16 ok in around 8:00s but had to stop for a loo break at 17, no chance of waiting another 9 miles. I'm not really sure what went wrong after that. It was ok to 19 and Fetchpoint which was fabulous, thank you Fetchies, but I was feeling a bit drained and heavy. After that, my rhythm went out of the window, had to tie a shoelace at 20, got a bit hot and grumpy around the power station (I do still like this bit), had severe CBAs. A pacer would have helped. By 23, I knew I'd run the last 3 in about 27 minutes and knew the support would really help too. The time wouldn't be what I wanted but it would be sub 3:45.

Just after 24m however, I saw a runner on the verge of collapse. I'd already lost my PB so felt I should help her get to the next St John's, along with a chap called Jon. She was pretty much delirious, made no sense whatsoever, and was staggering around in any direction other than forwards. Not in a good way. But there were no St John's until the finish so we had to part run, part drag, part coax, part bully her over the next 2 miles, sometimes pulling her by her hand, or pushing her from the back, or occasionally jogging backwards in front of her to get her head up. The spectators quite liked that. It would have been much better to leave her with a medic, she was bad enough that she should have stopped and any further back it would have been the best thing to do. But she was so close to the finish and there were no medics about and I didn't want to leave her. She did manage to run the last 400 metres to the finish and pip a very sweaty looking Chewbacca to the post. I had to apologise to him for making him a target - "you CAN'T get beaten by a bleedin' Chewbacca!"

I have mixed feelings about it, on the one hand, I couldn't have left her as she looked so bad, but on the other, more selfish side, I do feel like I chucked away a half decent time (it could have been 13-15 minutes faster). Not very gracious really.

By the time I got to the pub my mood was pretty grumpy (not helped by having seen the last person I would have expected to see, and who had been extraordinarily unpleasant on our last encounter, and by being bashed into by dozens of spectators, Brighton does need to sort the finish out), only to be cured by large applications of alcohol. Nothing to do with being disappointed and having low blood sugar or anything. The wine was terrible, the burgers were fortunately a lot better than the uncooked veggie sausages and there was no outdoor space (we'd probably had enough of the sun by then) but enough people turned up to make enough noise to empty the rest of the pub. Next stop, the Chandos. Just 26.2 miles to get there.

Top 5 medals

2011-03-15T17:33:00.000Z

Slightly less self-congratulatory / self-deprecating this time. These are my 5 favourite medals. Extra points awarded for a big chunky lump of hardware, depth of relief, artistic effort and attempt to capture the flavour of the individual marathon.

#5 - Porto. Good attempt at depicting the elegant bridge over the Douro river, ever so slightly let down by a bit of blurriness. (Photo is of Porto and La Rochelle)

#4 - Brighton. Even though this has rusted a fraction, the Brighton Pavilion is an elegant and stylish image. I like the simplicity of this one, just the image and the name and year of the race (and a tiny logo). Big too. Very nice.

#3 - La Rochelle. This is beautiful, it's the view of the two towers in the harbour (you finish by the one on the right) with a small boat. The quality and finish are superb and it's in fairly deep relief. It's also got the founder's vizog on the reverse, but the front is excellent.

#2 - Florence. Florence puts a different image relating to the city on its medal each year, this year was Galileo with his telescope. The amount of detail is extraordinary for a race medal, and the finish quality spot on, you can even see an expression on Galileo's face. It's not easy to make people look like people, but Florence has managed it, even in the Renaissance style. Exquisite.

#1 - 100 marathon club. Ok, this is a bit of a cop-out. Florence is a far better medal. But this wins because of its rarity and because it sums up all the 100 marathons it took to run it. It captures not only the landscapes and city scapes that I've been lucky enough to see but also the thousands of miles of pavements and roads that have got me there. There were times where all you see is grey - grey concrete, grey roads, grey skies, grey buildings, grey flyovers. But there are times where you see sights that make your breath catch in your throat. This reminds me to remember them.

And here's a rubbish pic of them all hanging in my loo, along with a windowsill full of trophies and awards and stuff. Sadly, none of them proves that I can run very fast, just that I enter poorly populated events. Choose your races wisely, kids!

Fastest and slowest marathons

2011-03-15T14:10:00.000Z

My 5 slowest marathons and ultras. Further exposition of the sheer misery that accompanied each of these events can be found in my blog but it's safe to say that they were all Horrid.

#5 - Langport Day 2, 5 hours 58. The nettles! THE NETTLES!!!

#4 - The Picnic, 6 hours 35. The most stupid marathon ever. If it weren't for the bonkers Dr Rob of Trionium and his silly signs and making us sing the National Anthem or whatever at the start, this would be terrible.

#3 - Portland Coastal 6 hours 38. That shingle beach totalled my achilles for months afterwards.

#2 - Pembrokeshire Coastal Day 1, 6 hours 50. Oh my god, what had I let myself in for? There were 2 more days of this.

#1 - Pembrokeshire Day 2, 8 hours 40. By the end, I couldn't even stand up without being knocked over by the wind. Let alone walk. Let alone run. (I DNF'd Day 3 with a touch of hypothermia and very very empty tanks)

5 fastest races (no ultras in here)

#5 - La Rochelle, Nov 2010, 3 hours 40. Awful awful awful, was knackered, couldn't see, felt like I was going to pass out, was a total wreck at the finish. Thank god for Mark's company.

#4 - Abingdon, Oct 2009, 3 hours 38 (4 min PB). Managed 16 miles at 3:30 pace but blew up. Should have gone for a slower target but it's worth doing the odd race with a risky strategy. It might just work.

#3 - Seville, Feb 2010, 3 hours 37. Really strong 12k at the end to squeak a 1 minute PB.

#2 - VLM, April 2010, 3 hours 36. One week after Brighton (see below). Could have PB'd here but stopped to hug various mates. Worth it :-)

#1 - Brighton, April 2010, 3 hours 36. Recipe for a PB: previous week, run 100 miles in 6 days at 8:30 average pace, including 2 marathons in Connemara. Take Monday off (you've got a sparrows' farts flight in the morning anyway), then run 10 miles on Tuesday, 10 miles on Thursday (at 7:35 pace), 10 on Friday then go out and get absolutely battered. Wake up on Saturday with the worst hangover ever, deal with this by drinking another bottle and a half of red wine. Forget to charge your garmin so have no watch for the race. Have a bacon and egg roll for breakfast. Run a 90 second PB :-)

Best marathon goody bags

2011-03-10T17:24:00.002Z

Best goody bag this time, organisers get extra points for yesterday's locally themed stuff, anything truly unique, and for tech t-shirts in female fit. You know how many of us have entered your race, it's not that bloody hard.

#5 - Faversham. A bottle of Spitfire (Shepherd Neame is brewed in Faversham) and a giant and supremely naff trophy because we're all winners. The communists' marathon, no winners here (sorry TZ).

#4 - Zurich New Year's Eve. A white string vest. No logo on it to explain why you'd own a white string vest, just a white string vest. No medal either, but the vest was very special.

#3 - La Rochelle. What a haul, a beautiful medal, a drawstring backpack, a rose for the ladies, a fabulously garish windcheater the size of a tent and a bourrette of oysters and oyster shucker.

#2 - Seville. The best bargain race I've done. I missed the free feed both before and after the race but did come away with a huge medal, a giant towel, a running vest (technical - tick, lady sized - tick, green - fail) and a pair of racing knickers!! My theory is you have to be sub 3'15 to wear racing knickers and in possession of an extremely pert and compact behind. This rules out most of the female field. Oh well, nice gesture.

#1 - Porto. Again, a beautiful medal, a rucksack, 2 t-shirts (1 technical, green and vast, 1 cotton, red and vast, neither good but both appreciated), 2 baseball caps, some odds and sods like a keyring and samples, a drawstring bag, a rose for the ladies, free lunch at the expo, free pint of beer at the finish, and a 750ml bottle of commemorative port :-) The port was the clincher, if not the fuzzy head on the startline.

Best Locally Themed Mementos

2011-03-08T16:52:00.000Z

I've also stuck in the Most Inappropriately Named Marathons as there aren't really enough for their own list:

#2 - The Dorset Doddle. 32 miles along the Jurassic Coast from Weymouth to Swanage, up and down and up and down. Beautiful views, but exhausting.

#1 - The Picnic marathon. Yes, there's a picnic at the finish but this race is contrived by the bonkers Dr Rob of Trionium to be the most ridiculously difficult marathon ever.

Best Locally Themed Mementos

#10 - Dartmoor Discovery 2008 - a glass block with the route laser etched into it. Shame they don't do these any more.

#8 & 9 - Snowdonia and Windermere for the slate coaster (Snowd) and slate medal (Windy)

#7 - London - London Pride on tap at the Expo, worth a few circuits of Excel

#6 - 10 in 10, a huge chunk of slate with a wicked pointy top, much more unique than a medal and a very handy weapon if you have intruders

#5 - Faversham - a bottle of Shepherd Neame, as brewed in Faversham

#4 - La Rochelle - a box of about 2 dozen oysters, and an oyster shucker. Not very practical, but very local.

#3 - Cornish - a piping hot pasty at the finish.

#2 - Porto - a full size bottle of port. Not very handy for those with hand luggage, but must be drunk before departure.

#1 - Jersey - local, icy cold, creamy milk at the finish line. Unbelievably delicious.

Now I need to get to the Epernay marathon for the champagne and back to Bordeaux for the red, and I reckon there'd be interest in races in Melton Mowbray for the pies, Cheddar for the cheese and Cartmel for the best sticky toffee pudding ever.

Top 5 Negative Splits

2011-03-07T14:06:00.002Z

Now for a rather more personal list. The time is how much quicker the second half was compared to the first half.

#5 Dublin 2009 - 5 minutes (2'13 + 2'08 = 4'21). Bit of a cheat this one as, being totally wiped out from Beachy and Greensands the previous two days and not enough sleep, I'd fallen asleep on the run and had to have a bit of a nap in an ambulance at about 11 miles to get me through it. Not recommended.

#4 Barcelona 2009 - 2 minutes (1'52 + 1'50 = 3'42'30). This was my first sub 3'45 and the pacing was perfect, this race started at 30k. Could probably have run the whole thing a bit quicker.

#3 Florence 2009 - 5 minutes (2'00 + 1'55 = 3'55'14). A easy long slow run of a marathon. I went through the first half in 2 hours on the nose then started racing from 16 miles, passing 1,769 runners in the second half, a whopping 39% of the field.

#2 Seville 2010 - 3 minutes (1'50 + 1'47 = 3'37). By the time I got to 30k, I had 1 hour and 1 minute to equal my existing PB, exactly 8'00 minute miling. I've no idea where it came from but I beat it by a fraction. Hardly worth it, but an exhilarating final hour.

#1 Jersey 2010 - 9 minutes (2'05 + 1'54 = 3'59). Nowhere near my best overall time but the clear winner on the negative split front. I think this proved to me that even though my legs were unbelievably over-trained, over-raced and my head was sick to death of marathons, I could still beast myself on occasion.

(Luckily, I don't have the stats for the positive spits ;-) )

2011-03-03T10:44:00.000Z

Ok, if you're racing a marathon, the scenery doesn't matter in the slightest as you won't be able to see it. Hence, tomorrow I'll list the fastest courses I've run / best PB potential. Here are some ideas for marathons to treat as long slow runs. (When my computer's fixed I'll try to find some photos)

Best scenery

#6 - Mauritius. Roads lined with bougainvillea, mountains, ocean, kids with huge grins and finishing on the beach. Stunning.

#5 - The Cornish. Bodmin Moor, a charming valley bottom and cute hamlets.

#4 - Dartmoor Discovery. Dartmoor, wide open views over the tors, ponies on the route, fab ancient stone bridges and more cute hamlets.

#3 - Snowdonia. Snowdonia National Park, innit.

#2 - Connemara. The biggest open spaces I've seen in the UK and virtually noone there. Monumental, forbidding and utterly beautiful.

#1 - Langdale. I love the Lake District, even in spite of family caravan holidays there several times a year, usually in the cold and wet. This is one of my favourite spots in the world - burnt orange bracken on the fellsides, huge hills (that you have to run over), cute fat brown sheep and a great pub at the finish.

Best city scenery

#5 - Hamburg. Loads of stunning lakeside to run along through some very well off parts of the city.

#4 - Florence. For the start overlooking one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

#3 - Barcelona. Starting under the National Art Museum, with a fine stretch along the beach.

#2 - Porto. You get to run along the sea and the river for the bulk of this race, and over a stunning bridge. Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous.

#1 - Rome. Easy choice. You start and finish at the Colosseum, run through the Vatican, pass so many ancient and important sites that it's not the cobbles tripping you up, it's the fact that you're looking anywhere but the road. Simply superb.

100 up in Malta

2011-03-01T19:17:00.002Z

I was enormously touched this weekend by the number of people who came out to Malta to help me celebrate my 100th marathon, I never dreamed there would be so many people there. For someone who counts herself as a bit of a misanthropist, I appear to have a lot of very good mates and count myself extremely lucky. My ears were burning, however, on Saturday evening after we'd witnessed a day of torrential rain and bracingly cold temperatures, everyone must have been cursing me for dragging them out to run a marathon in the pouring rain. Together with the high winds on Sunday morning, my promises of sunshine seemed quite hollow. Honestly, I did get a tan last year, and there's proof of the sun on the marathon's website with a photo of me running past a huge triumphal gate in a crop top (funnily enough, I have no memory of the gate, and didn't even clock it this time round). It didn't look very likely this time round.

So after all the rain on Saturday, there was enormous amounts of standing water about, Malta doesn't seem to put much emphasis on drainage. Within the first few miles there was a huge puddle that had us teetering along the edges like precious brats who don't want to get their shoes muddy. The best was later on, a small pond covered the road for about 100 metres. The resourceful Maltese had placed a low dry stone wall along this road complete with concrete lid, about 30 centimetres wide, perfect for balancing along to keep your feet dry though the climb up, the fallen down bit in the middle, the road sign to duck under and the jump off weren't most ideal if you were racing flat out.

I of course wasn't racing flat out but did get predictably carried away with the downhills. I knew I'd probably blow up a bit, just like last year, but this wasn't about time really, sub 4 was all I wanted for my #100. So the first 15/16 miles averaged about 8 minute miling but the pre-race tea was proving extremely diuretic, and distracting. At 25k, I just had to stop in a handy field. This field also contained a horse who seemed quite curious about his visitor and decided to wander over to have a closer look. Maybe it doesn't get many runners visiting him.

By this point, you start to feel like you're in an Escher drawing. You start at Mdina at the top, then run around in extremely confusing loops, doubling back on yourself, visiting the stadium over and over again, running the same patch of road in different directions, seeing the Mdina fortifications from every possible angle. Trying to figure out where the hell you've been is futile. But there is lots of downhill, and the sun came out, and the half runners were frequently very encouraging, and the road was wide enough to get around the walkers and for the 1/2 runners to pass.

I was really enjoying the run, the sun on my back, the downhills, the congratulations thanks to the "100th marathon today (yes really)" on my back. Running past a brass band playing the Brazil theme tune was also pretty memorable. A great race to finish on, and in stark contrast to the cold grizzly grey of the London 50k last weekend. By the last 7k I was bushed (they don't get easy no matter how many you do) and there were a few walking breaks, however Anna Seeley caught me up and dragged me into the finish, thanks Anna! She mentioned it was a fine coincidence we ran part of her first marathon together and now part of my 100th. 3'42 was better than hoped for, by a long way, and my 7th fastest ever. I'm definitely fitter and better rested than 4 months ago, even with Wokey 1/2 and the London 50k in my legs, so the 3'30 is the next logical goal. Yeah yeah, about bloody time.

There was a superb reception at the finish, Helen had won the ladies' race and Mark had smashed his PB. There were other PBs and excellent performances too so the Laurent Perrier went down very well indeed, even in paper cups from Burger King. Standing in the sunshine with my mates, waiting for the other finishers and drinking champagne was just what I hoped for. It goes without saying that the party later on was fairly messy, but I was honoured to have so many people there, from Fetch, the 100 club and from the 10 in 10. There were as many sore heads as there were sore legs the next day. Gaddafi missed a trick though, there were a few people heading to Blighty via Malta from Libya, all he needed to do was get hold of a marathon t-shirt, hobble off the plane and everyone would think he was just another beardy old bloke who runs marathons. The Libyan refugees were probably slightly taken aback by the juxtaposition of an SBS emergency extraction from the desert and a bunch of rather worse for wear runners mucking about like children. I've never had an announcement on board a flight before, so it was a pretty special surprise to hear the congratulations over the tannoy. It was even more of a surprise when the chap got very confused and also awarded me the win, poor Helen!

It was a top weekend all round (ok, apart from the terrible weather on Saturday and some awful food). I'm so glad so many people were there to share it with me, and I'm so glad I didn't stuff it up by trashing myself beforehand, or getting knocked over by a bus, or DNFing, or missing my flight, or any of the other million things that could have gone wrong. Sunday wasn't just for me, it was for everyone who's helped me get to the end of 2,620 miles (and some ultra change): my family, the 100 club, the 10 in 10-ers, a huge number of Fetchies and Mark. (Blimey, this is turning into an emotional, over wrought Oscars speech) Anyway, you're all fabulous, and I couldn't have done it without you.

The London 50k - #99

2011-02-23T17:29:00.000Z

There's a shortage of road marathons in the UK in winter and a surfeit of shorter traily ultras, largely along stretches of the canal ranging from 30 - 50 miles in length. Not having the chance for a whistle stop trip abroad for a race, the London 50k was billed as the lowest fat, shortest ultra on the calendar, plus, falling one week before Malta, provided massive incentive to finish. Unfortunately, after 15k of suburban streets and tarmac paths running through commons, we reached the first bit of mud through Wimbledon, not so bad but pretty greasy. After the wide open skies of Richmond Park, a nice bit of river and the Sunday evening historical-drama-worthy Syon Park which I'd never even heard of, Brent Canal was the beginning of the end. It got steadily grimmer through Ealing and Hanwell, what may have been Hangar Hill and other parts of London I've never heard of. The mud, too, was thicker, stickier and slippier, I fell over once, got covered in it and spent the next few hours looking like I'd been reclining on the side of a hill like those sunbathing lemurs in Madagascar. But in mud rather than on a sun-drenched rock.

At 37k, I entirely hit the wall. A run-walk thing worked for a bit until the big muddy hill presented itself, after that I just couldn't be bothered. It was cold but I walked the rest. Geordie Richard was very good company and offset my mood by being really very grumpy, especially when we missed the turn near the finish. Without him my mood would have been terrible. By the time we'd finished, we'd done a shade off 54k, had wet feet and were pretty cold. My hands were frozen solid and in no other circumstances would I have been glad to walk into the warm fug of the Quality Hotel (you know when a hotel's called Quality it's going to be anything but). My shoes went in the bin, they were too knackered to provide cushioning on the road and too roady to provide grip on the mud, it's a difficult call on this race. So it was pretty unpleasant, and slow, and left my right ankle very sore, but it did act as a sort of swansong for off-road long-distance races, I'll never do another one again.

So, it's all go for Malta on Sunday. Looking like there'll be at least 50 people in the bar which is fantastic, I'm very touched so many people are making the effort to be there. Just 4 days to not break my leg first.......

Wokingham half marathon - a 6 minute PB

2011-02-14T14:42:00.002Z

Wokingham looked like a good opportunity for a PB but it's hard to estimate my pace these days. I thought I might shave a bit off the existing 1'44'44 but not enough to get excited about. However, my comfortably hard pace turned out to be 7'30s, very pleasing, given my 6 week old 10k pace is closer to 7'40s. 9 miles passed at this surprisingly speedy pace without any incident (apart from going through what would have been a fat 10k PB), my legs felt loose and fresh, and reasonably bouncy, and my breathing wasn't too hard. Miles 10-12 are back up the gentle decline from the start, and into an increasing headwind, I lost 10-20 seconds on each of these miles but that wasn't too much of a worry, plus mile 13 was back to 7'29. I didn't like the two sharp left hand turns to the finish at all (not a criticism of the route, it was generally excellent, and an all round first rate race) but finished reasonably strongly in 1'38'55.*

I was incredibly pleased about this, at no point have I ever contemplated getting anywhere near breaking 1'40 for a half, let alone running at 7'33 pace for the whole thing. It also predicts a 3'23 - 3'30 marathon time which is a huge confidence boost. My motivation to train and enjoyment of running had gone out of the window over December / January and, shallow as it is, a good result really helps me think it's worth putting the effort in. I clearly haven't reached my full potential yet. A nice base of almost 100 marathons, no injuries and rejuvenated enthusiasm should set the spring up to be a good few months.

Well done to all the other PBs and strong performances yesterday. There were loads of them. Thanks to the shout from Lully too. There was a great turn out in the pub later, I was proud to be wearing a Fetch vest (yes, just a vest, in the wind and rain, in February. I'm well 'ard.)

*This is my garmin time. Provisional chip time is 16 seconds quicker but I suspect they will be amended downwards, as it seems like provisional times started from the second mat on the way out. My garmin clocked 13.10 miles from the first mat, and most people report a 10-20 second discrepancy between their watch times and the chip times. If the finalised results give me a 1'38'39, then I'll be even happier, but I'm not counting on it.

Gloucester marathon, #98 (it was #49 last year)

2011-02-07T20:29:00.000Z

And here's the report from #98, two weeks ago. Yesterday I ran a 1/2 marathon and rather enjoyed it, it was long enough to feel like a decent amount of exercise and to require a bit of strategy (ie. bombing off straight away) but not so long to bore you. Hmm, 100 halves next???

Gloucester was number 98 and I'm well on track for Malta. Luck has definitely been on my side, there have been a few people who've had to struggle through injuries to get to a planned 100th and I currently (touch wood) have no niggles at all. Just proves that it is possible to run 52 marathons in a year without damaging yourself more than the usual overtraining symptoms.

The marathon was pretty uneventful, it was an easy paced race until the last few miles where my legs started running away with themselves for a speedy finish and a reasonable time of 4'06. The closer you get to the 100, the more tempting it is to look back over them, but you don't want to count your chickens too soon. Now it feels pretty certain that I'll get there. It's good to have an event I'm a little unsure of as my 99th (the London 50k) to add a bit of pressure and interest to it, and the desire to put in a decent race at Malta has picked up my enthusiasm a bit. My favourite maras have been the stronger ones so that's good enough incentive to do some proper training.

Anyway, looking back. In a way, doing the 100 so quickly with 34 in 2009 and 52 in 2010 has meant there have been a lot of races that I can barely remember. Most of those are LDWA style events. Now, I'm not slagging them off, they serve an excellent purpose for time on your feet, more challenging running, cheap entry fees, low key atmosphere yadda yadda yadda, I just don't like them and wish I hadn't done so many. They make my 100 feel slightly false, like I've cheated. More importantly, it would be nice for each marathon to stand out in some way and have its own character. It's hard to differentiate when you're averaging one a week.

Wokingham 1/2 marathon next weekend to see if there's any speed at all in these legs, then the London 50k, then Malta. Very very happy to see so many people plan to be there.

100 Club AGM marathon - #97

2011-02-07T20:24:00.000Z

Still catching up... The 100 Club AGM was a few weeks ago now, here's the report, written pretty soon after the event.

The 100 Club AGM is 5 laps of an outer loop and an inner loop, nice for breaking down the distance and making the time pass quickly. Unfortunately, it's been 4 weeks since my last marathon and a misplaced motivation has meant my longest run since was just short of 11 miles. And that was being dragged round by Mark. It was quite clear I was knackered after only 2 laps, so the third and fourth were a bit of a trial. However, having watched 127 Hours yesterday, it was pretty straightforward to maintain perspective. All I was doing was getting round 26 miles, not exactly being stuck under a rock for 4 days before cutting off my own arm, and then dealing with the dehydration, fever and shock to abseil out of the canyon and stumbling god knows how far to find help. Top film by the way, go see.

Anyway, I was knackered but at least the time didn't matter, 4 hours 32 was fine for #97. I can't wait for Malta, and I'm not sure I'll run another marathon again after the few I've got booked (the usual April suspects Brighton & London, and Stockholm in May as I've wanted to run it for ages). I haven't enjoyed running for a long time and am finding it next to impossible to train; on more than one occasion lately, I've got up, put my kit on, had a cup of tea, and gone back to bed. It's cold and dark and boring and just too much effort, but that's not really an excuse. The problem really is I don't have anything to work towards. Last year it was the 10 in 10 which is a proxy for your first marathon really, it's way more than you've ever done before, the training dominates your life and it feels like a huge achievement when you get there. Unfortunately, that sense of achievement is very shortlived for me, and I need a bigger and better fix. Hence loads of marathons, and hence, really, the 10 in 10. I loved the training, loved the side effects of it and loved pushing myself to my limits. But I can't go further than the 10 in 10 with a full time job and the desire to spend time with my friends, my boyfriend and my family, the 10 in 10 was almost too much and that was with such an undemanding job that I could piss about all day recovering. I actually have to apply myself now and it's quite tiring.

So, there can't be another running challenge that's bigger than the 10 in 10, getting quicker isn't a challenge as I don't care about it enough (it'll never make me stand out as I'm firmly mid pack and always will be) and the 100th is fast approaching. I need something different. This time last year was similar - I knew I had to leave my job as I was bored rigid, not progressing, not learning, with no chance of a pay rise or bonus, but I didn't want to stay in finance. I spent months considering other options before I was headhunted (to another job in finance, but this time with a shed load of cash to invest and a better package, so yes, I continued to be a sell out) so the answer was given to me. I don't know what to do now. Get a bike. Start climbing. Join a boxing gym. Take up fencing. I'm starting with dynamic pilates, on those machines that look like a cross between a medieval torture rack and a kinky bit of kit in an S&M club, it's a good combination of strength and stretching, but it won't be enough of an adrenalin fix. Canyoneering, without the self-amputation perhaps?

How to run 52 marathons in one year

2011-01-27T19:53:00.000Z

And here's a summary of 2010:

32 singles, 5 doubles, 1 x 10 in 10, one huge dent in my credit card

1 Zurich 2 Stansted Stagger 3 10 in 10 Club AGM :-| 4 Portland Coastal 5 Gloucester :-| 6 Marrakech 7 Seville 8 Malta 9 Grantham Day 1 10 Grantham Day 2 :-| 11 Rome 12 Easter Enigma 13 Connemara 14 Connemara 15 Brighton 16 London 17 10 in 10 Day 1 18 10 in 10 Day 2 19 10 in 10 Day 3 20 10 in 10 Day 4 :-| 21 10 in 10 Day 5 22 10 in 10 Day 6 :-| 23 10 in 10 Day 7 24 10 in 10 Day 8 25 10 in 10 Day 9 26 10 in 10 Day 10 27 Chester :-| 28 Dartmoor Discovery 29 Langport Day 1 30 Langport Day 2 31 Mauritius 32 Tanners 33 Fairlands Valley 34 Summer Enigma 35 Faversham 36 Isle of Man 37 Fleetwood 38 Kent Coastal 39 2 to go :-| 40 Nottingham 41 Grantham Day 1 :-| 42 Grantham Day 2 43 Great Langdale 44 Jersey 45 Leicester 46 Abingdon 47 Brentwood 48 Snowdonia 49 Porto 50 Cornish 51 La Rochelle 52 Calvia

I've assigned smileys to each race to calculate a very unscientific measure. 1 point for each , -1 point for each , :-| is just a oh, you know sort of race, for surprising races, usually good surprises, for landmark races or placings, and the odd or for, well, they had to go in somewhere. Starting from 0, the total score is +16, which roughly means I enjoyed 16 of 'em. Don't look at it the other way round......

I won't be doing 52 in a year ever again, aside from the over training, over racing, tiredness, mental fatigue, time consuming admin and sheer jadedness with the whole thing, it's bloody expensive. Nice to have ticked the box, but I wouldn't recommend it.

Calvia marathon

2011-01-27T19:48:00.002Z

Apologies for radio silence, it's getting quite difficult to find anything interesting to say about my races. Since Luton-that-never-was, I finished 2010 off with a lovely marathon in Calvia, and have done 2 so far this year. I'm on 98 now, so the journey to my 100th at Malta on 27th February is set fair. This is what I had to say about Calvia.

This was a rather enticing prospect of a marathon: fairly warm for December at 14-17 degrees, a 2 lap course and some good company. Mark and I were in the official race hotel, along with Helen, Riel, Ben and Rosemary who's in next year's 10 in 10, as well as a good handful of 100 Clubbers. The downside was the location, just up the road from Magaluf and, even though the hotel was one of the nicer in the area, it was still chav central, with soft furnishings even DFS would reject and invitations not to steal food from the breakfast buffet. It was the perfect HQ however for pre and post race get togethers over a variety of beer, cava, sherry and the odd mojito, and a short walk from the Saffron Tandoori for an alternative carb-loading dinner. Textbook.

The route was rather nice with some diverting bits of scenery, one herd of goats, one long windy wooden bridge over the motorway and lots and lots of undulation. Nothing too long or steep but enough to put tight PB attempts largely out of reach. I rather liked them but then, with no watch, I couldn't be too fussed about time. The roads were impeccably closed off and policed, even more impressive when there were only 104 marathon runners on the second loop. Guess you get unquestioning police backing when the race is staged by the local municipality.

Mark had kept me company for 10 miles until I wanted to slow down to avoid a second La Rochelle and he wanted to speed up. Bit much to expect a 3'16 marathoner to run 9 minute miles. His company had been great but it was wonderful being by myself - long stretches of open road with hardly any other runners in sight on the second loop, next to no supporters, just me, space, quiet and a very peaceful, relaxing and calm second half. Just what I needed to round off the year.

There's an out and back bit at 26k where I established there were two ladies less than 800 metres behind me. With only 11 of us in the race I didn't want to be passed so that provided a bit of incentive to avoid slacking off. As it was, in the final 12k, I picked off 8 people and was dropped by 1, a favourable balance. A final lap of the track got me a 3'56 finish, very pleasing with no watch, a bit of residual illness and a pair of trashed legs.

I was delighted to see Mark had run a huge negative split in spite of paying the price for some exuberance and even more delighted that Helen had stormed through to win the ladies' race. The presentations were just getting under way, so we didn't have to wait for her presentation, but it was a bit of a surprise to hear my name called out for 5th lady (just over an hour slower than Helen!!) for a ginormous, and ginormously naff, trophy. Lucky really, I'd only just got back in time for it.

La Rochelle and Luton that never was

2010-12-06T20:12:00.000Z

In contrast to the last marathon at the Cornish where a marshal declared I was looking very serene at mile 23, La Rochelle was the ugliest marathon I have ever run. Purely for all the yelling, swearing, bad temper, grimacing and desperate lunges for each breath, the town itself is a charming old fishing port and the route a standard city one taking in a tour of the suburbs.

I had the mixed blessing of starting in the second pen with only a group of 100 runners ahead of me. Unfortunately La Rochelle has two starts and there were a few thousand runners in the other one who would run faster than my vague hopes of 4 hours. So the inevitably fast start turned into feeling like I was being trampled by a herd of wildebeest that continued for a good 15k. It was both stressful and unpleasant to feel like I was going entirely backwards, even at just over 8 mm, and even more stressful as I wanted to back right off to 9 mm. The pace was too fast, the field refused to calm down and everyone seemed to be racing. I doubt anyone was out for anything other than a good finishing time.

Mark met me at 10k, he needed a long run and the company was most welcome. The pace didn't settle though, and we were still being passed and by the time we got to half way, I'd gone into a bit of a fog. The route is 2 laps and we were back in the town centre where the crowds had built up. Bloody hell, the noise was unbearable. It was horribly stressful as the wheels had already fallen off, I was already breathing really hard and I couldn't see much. As ever, I express feeling like shit as sounding like I want to punch someone. I'm not proud of yelling at the crowds to shut the hell up and threatening to shove the next whistle I heard up its owner's derriere. I was just hurting enormously and it was only half way. In 1'49, way too fast.

Mark was being surprisingly patient with my bad grace that only deteriorated. He was very good at chatting away even though I could barely hear him, let alone respond. The field had stopped going past us by now and there were patches where it got a bit easier so we held the same pace. The bad bits came and went, there would be a few 100 metres where it felt tough but manageable then it all got hellish again and like it was the final kilometre of a 10k.

Although it was getting even more horrible by the metre, by 35k or so we were taking people back and thanks to Mark bouncing along so comfortably, my legs decided to follow him, leaving my head to fight with my lungs. I barely remember anything of the last few miles other than a fight to stay awake, everything was swimming in and out of focus, but luckily my legs were looking after themselves. So the splits were good, only slipped to 8 40 once. The last few hundred metres of La R are on cobbles and the finish tucked around a corner so you're not quite sure how far it is to go but a last push gave me a 3 40 finish with almost even splits of 1 49 and 1 51, god knows how at that effort level.

Afterwards was horrific as I was in bits, very cold and quite wet from several heavy rain showers. You get corralled into a sort of processing tent and funnelled between 6 foot high metal fencing to help yourself to a selection of food and drink, including most welcome coke and hot chocolate. You are also presented with an enormous windcheater, in white with a garish gold La Rochelle image on the reverse (I wore it, who cares), a backpack that I wore for a fraction extra warmth, a rose for the ladies and a box of fine de clair oysters (Mark later gallantly set aside his revulsion to shuck them over the bath with the freebie oyster knife we were given, never got a knife at a race before). Quite a haul. I'm just trying to forget the vile process of getting back to the hotel and defrosting and juggling all the alarm signals - "Warning! You are dangerously cold, alarmingly hungry, your brain is pulling away from the inside of your skull, you need to sleep RIGHT NOW, your fingers are blue and are going to drop off, oh yes, and your legs are a bit sore. You bloody idiot, what the hell have you done to yourself?"

I totally paid the price for racing La R in such cold and wet conditions and came down with a cold almost immediately afterwards. I despise being ill and consider it, entirely irrationally, as a sign of weakness. Therefore, I am reluctant to sit around under a blanket with hot drinks, especially when on holiday and there are icy streets to wander around. So by the time this weekend's Luton marathon was cancelled, I'd decided I was well enough to run a replacement, in spite of an abortive few miles on Saturday where breathing was almost impossible in cold dry air.

10 in 10er David Bayley had come to the rescue by staging the emergency Christmas Enigma to save those of us on marathon streaks, on countdowns to their 100, keen to avoid wasting Luton training or those just plain addicted. Weather conditions were ok if you don't mind the cold and the field full of friendly familiar faces. I started off feeling ok, but after half way was getting very cold and very hungry. It was 7 laps and as soon as I started the 5th I knew I was too cold, plus my legs were tired as a result of racing La R last week. Normally they're fine in a road mara and look after themselves but this time they were buckling by 18 miles. The loss of speed meant less heat generated plus, as I discovered later, I was sweating like a stuck pig and soaked all down my back, leaving a nice frost pattern. Must be illness related, I certainly wasn't running hard enough to sweat. At the end of the 5th lap, I was unbearably freezing and knew that my legs weren't capable of running much more.

DNFing felt as numb as my hands. It's 1 DNF out of 52 marathons I've started this year so not a bad ratio, but it's funny to think you can still lack the resilience to finish it off when you've done 90-odd of the blighters. I have a bit of a conundrum that several third parties think has a very simple answer. If I count the 10 in 10 Club AGM marathon from back in January, then I'm still on track for 52 this year. My 100th at Malta is fine, I could always find another one in Jan / Feb, but this is my only shot at 52 marathons in a single calendar year, I'm never going to put myself through this again. I counted the 10 in 10 AGM for my 50th and 75th and only recently decided not to, on the grounds that it didn't seem to me like a proper marathon. But then I'll ultimately be doing 100 road marathons and not counting my trail events so, if it counts to the 100 club rules, then surely it's no more and no less valid than my other doubtful events, like the LDWA ones. Unless Roger (chairman of the 100 Club) thinks otherwise, I think I'll count the 10 in 10 AGM, stay on track, and stop trying to find dividing lines in a very grey area. Which would mean I'm still on 52 for the year with Calvia this weekend (I *will* be better and I *won't* be racing) and on 95 in total.

Naomi in 5 mile cross country shocker

2010-11-15T14:23:00.000Z

A 5 mile cross country race isn't really my bag, however, after 13 marathons in 11 weeks, I needed a break from all the travelling as much as from all the miles. Plus it was Mark's birthday so it seemed a bit rude to wander off to do my own thing, yet again, after he'd given up several of his weekends to keep me company. Plus, the alternatives were the LDWA Steppingley Step (muddy fields, increasingly soggy and disintegrating written instructions on sheets of A4, lots of boredom, lots of stiles, lots of shuffling, negligible running), Gower (the only race I've DNFed purely because it was so blinkin' miserable, hooning down with rain, swamplike underfoot and bound to take over 6 hours), and the triple marathon over the Ridgeway (sleeping on a school floor, cold showers, wet kit, covered in endless mud, most people getting lost and finishing in the dark). I could have gone to France for the Nice-Cannes marathon that looked fabulous but that was a bit much with 2 foreign maras already booked in for November. So it was a marathon free weekend.

Mark had entered his club's Autumn Challenge, saying it was the best race ever for reasons I never quite managed to pin down. Still, I knew that if he went off to run a race on Sunday morning and it was remotely decent weather, I'd feel far too jealous stood on the sidelines cheering him on. So I entered. The Autumn Challenge is 5 miles (too short), off road (too non-tarmac), on grass (too slippy and tussocky), and muddy trails (too muddy and slippy), and hilly (ok, I don't mind this bit). It also suggested the course would "take a short spike". I have never heard this sort of language in any race I have entered before, it was a little intimidating. I wore road shoes and hoped in vain for dry weather in the few days leading up to the race.

It was mild and dry and even sunny on Sunday morning so the back up plan of just ditching it wasn't required. A 20 minute walk to the start plus maybe 5 minutes of trotting about on the grass was a half arsed attempt at loosening up but the autumn challenge for me was concentrating on running hard right from the start rather than ambling off at a very pedestrian pace before taking about 4 miles to realise what I'm doing and to start thinking about running as I usually do in marathons. It passes a bit of time, ok?

The start was up a shallow hill, on grass and quite slippy. Happily, the bulk of it was on varying degrees of muddy trail which was far more tolerable, indeed, I've done plenty of off road marathons on worse terrain, plus none of the hills were very long. Of course, at eyeballs out pace, they're a lot more unpleasant but at least my road maras have taught me that you can run up hills, unlike trail maras and ultras where hills are almost obligatory to walk. I was passed by quite a few people in the first mile as the field shook itself out, by next to noone in the middle 3 miles (where I took a few back) and by only a couple in the last mile. Which suggests that while my top gear is reasonably sustainable, I definitely had no more pace for the finish.

Despite feeling minor dread and perhaps because of such low expectations, I rather enjoyed running to the point where it felt like my lungs were about to explode for 40 minutes. It feels more efficient to know you're covering ground as fast as you can rather than scuffing about and taking forever. I don't like wasting time. It's also quite nice to feel more competitive than usual, it's been all too easy to think "stuff it, I've run 48 marathons this year, I've got nothing to prove" and ease off (see drifting times and abominable training passim) so this was rather refreshing. I had no expectation of time so with the terrain and hills was quite satisfied with 40'59 for 5.12 miles, bang on 8'00 minute miling. Same as my 1/2 marathon pace, same as the pace I've maintained for 16 miles in a marathon. Proof that I don't have much acceleration.

Targets were as follows:

1. Don't injure myself - done
2. Don't hate it too much - done
3. Don't fall over - done
4. Don't embarrass myself - done, I was 46th out of 146 overall, 11th of 51 ladies and 3rd of 17 senior ladies.
5. Don't embarrass Mark by beating him on his birthday race - done, he did himself proud with 6th overall and 1st MV40. And yes, I hadn't a chance in hell of beating him.

Porto marathon

2010-11-09T14:33:00.000Z

Porto was a lovely weekend, not just my usual whistle stop trip for a marathon but the chance to relax a bit more, see more of the city and have a very pleasant weekend with Mark. I had slightly conflicting thoughts about him coming along and not running, on the one hand, it was good that he didn't have another marathon as multiple marathoning is a choice you have to make yourself, not one to be influenced into, however unintentionally; on the other, I felt a bit prima donna-ish with my race being the dominant theme, especially as Mark was relegated to supporter, jumper carrier, water bearer and soigneur, roles that he fulfilled very proficiently. I don't think anyone's ever tried to pin my number on for me before. It was, however, excellent to have such good company, and even more excellent when he popped up at 15k and kept me company for the next almost 11.

Portuguese marathons appear to be like the smaller Spanish ones: they're very competitive with a fast field, you're going to feel quite lonely if you finish in much over 4 hours. There are also very few women, 93 of a 1,180 strong field, that's about 8%. It's not so much a social thing as it is in the UK, people are there to race, and I rather like that attitude, it makes you feel part of something a bit more momentous, it's more than a bunch of people getting together for a jolly old jaunt together, stopping off to eat cake and chat. But then I am getting quite purist.

On Saturday, we went, via winding lanes, crooked houses and epic flights of steps, to the expo at the not very Crystal Palace that gave out a cracking goody bag with a race number with my name on it, backpack, technical t-shirt, baseball cap, a few odds and sods like a keyring and samples and, most excitingly of all, a full size 750ml bottle of commemorative marathon port. I was hugely pleased with this, although it represented a further challenge of decimating it before the flight back (it was polished off sitting on the harbour in the sunshine post race). The free feed was pretty vast too, if of school dinner quality, but the included beer made it worthwhile. At the finish was yet more free stuff, ladies were given a rose and we all got a drawstring bag with another baseball cap and a cotton t-shirt, and there was a stall set up doling out more beer. It's one of the most alcoholic races I've done and one of the better value ones. Less said about the flight the better.

As for my performance, I wasn't best prepared for the race, having a minor port headache, chronic sleep deprivation which is short circuiting increasing parts of my brain, and a series of niggles exacerbated by walking up and down many hills and steps in Porto on Saturday afternoon in inappropriate shoes. The current list includes (but is not exclusive to): right ankle, achilles and anterior tibialis, right back of knee, outside of both knees (prob tight ITBs), inside the top of my left knee that tends to give out on sudden inclines, right hamstring and where the deltoids meet the spine. It's all adding to the general feeling of decrepitude and the requirement for a good 6 weeks resting in a sanitorium on the banks of Lake Garda.
However, I was really looking forward to the run, and usually do for marathons like Porto where I get to see lots of a nice city. This is a charming town with a great route down to the coast, along the sea front, then up the Douro river with a few out and backs before heading back the way we came. The start is straight up a hill for 1/2 a k, then downhill for 7k to the coast to tempt you into a fast start, luckily we were spared the long climb all the way back as the finish was "only" 2k up, although this does deposit you a long way from town.
My pacing has gone a bit haywire lately so I've had to run to perceived effort and accept whatever pace that results. This time that seemed like 8'30s which was a rather nice turn up for the books, it's been more like 9'15s recently. When Mark joined me, about 2km before I expected him, it definitely helped keep the rhythm going. He left me just before the hardest bit mentally, from 26 to 30k when it was getting quite warm and I was getting a bit sleepy and lacking in concentration. A Dutch bloke came alongside with perfect cadence so I latched onto him for a bit. The increasing heat was lovely and eased out some of the aches, and after seeing Mark again at 31k, it was a matter of counting down the ks. The legs were very very tired in the last 3 or 4 miles and the pace drifted a bit, but a sub 4 was without doubt. What was very tight was a sub 3'50 but, given I hadn't done one of these since April and I couldn't remember when GFA times expire, I had to go for it. The last 1.5k uphill was pretty cruel..... Finished in 3'49'20, got my rose, bag #2 and beer, then was very lucky to find a cab avoiding a long old hike back to the hotel inevitably getting very lost. Just a shame there was no teleporter to get us back home.

Postscript: I have to name and shame Victor Hutchins from Queen's Park Harrier who we saw peeing on the 25k distance marker, it didn't help that Mark had seen very few other Brits so had given him a cheery wave and shout on at least 3 occasions, to be totally ignored each time. Victor, you are the victor of the most vile runner prize, narrowly beating the portly gentleman running in racing knickers.

Snowdonia marathon

2010-11-08T17:12:00.000Z

Mark had been a proper gentleman and offered to drive up to Snowdonia, thus sparing me a really difficult journey plus the expense of two nights in a shonky hotel or B&B plus affording the opportunity to stop off in Crewe to see my sister who you may remember was my lead cheerleader and tea and jam sandwich provider at the 10 in 10. Hence I got to stay in the car and out of the drizzle as long as possible before the start, so didn't spot many familiar faces other than a couple of 100 Clubbers either there or on the route.
It was actually quite nice to set off at a very pedestrian pace with the meagre aims of a sub 5 finish and not too much of a drenching from the local weather. Only one of those was in my control. After a gentle few miles to warm up came the first hill. Now, reports had suggested this race was harder than the Langdale mara so I was very happy to find that the first was quite easily runnable and knew there would be some fabulous views and a delightful downhill reward to follow. Turning onto a shaley track wasn't ideal, didn't like that bit. Once back on the road there was plenty of pretty much flat to half way and, having seen on the route profile that the second hill was shorter than the first, it was easy enough to run up it. Around this point, Gail from Watford Joggers caught up with me and we had a nice chat until we passed Mark who recognised his clubmate well before he recognised me...
Thanks to my steady start, it felt quite comfortable over the last 10 and I passed quite a lot of soggy, miserable looking runners. On reaching the last hill, I knew I ought to break 4'30 and if I kept about 10 minute miles going it would be 4'20, not so easy with the notorious Waun Fawr (sp?) in the way. I really didn't want to walk the hill, not just because of losing time but also because it was already wet and looking to get wetter and I'd just freeze. So I managed a nice steady trot all the way to the top, had a bit of a laugh to myself at all those people who'd said Langdale is harder, I could barely walk the hills in Langdale let alone run them, witnessed a big lightening flash and rumble of thunder, thought I ought to get in before that lands on our heads, then hit trail. For heaven's sake. This is a "road marathon", I can tolerate a bit of low-fat track but this turned into full-fat, extra lard, uneven stony path before deteriorating into muddy, churned up, slippy grass awash with puddles. Not so bad on the flat but the descent was quite dangerous in road shoes. Thankfully the last 2/3rds of a mile were back on road, though now in torrential rain with a good inch or two of water running off the hills, I've never seen anything so heavy outside of Asia. Cleaned my shoes up a bit.

Came over the line in 4'18, only 8 minutes slower than Abingdon, quite pleased with that. Was presented with a cup of cold water (just what I need) and a slate coaster, got gathered up by Mark, had a brief chat to Yin Hai, Fu and Gail and made straight for the car. I like that the organisers are trying to make this an ethical event, including giving you a carbon neutral t-shirt, but it's pissing in the wind when virtually everyone has to drive a blinking long way to get to your race. Overall however, an excellent event, loads of well-stocked water stations, slick start and finish and a grand sense of occasion. Hardly saw any marshals away from the water stations and the traffic could have done with more management but otherwise it was top drawer. I might be back next year, if I can be bothered with the epic journey.

Abingdon & Brentwood marathons

2010-10-25T16:05:00.000+01:00

For the first time in 80 marathons, I couldn't blog a race last weekend. Abingdon was horrible because it was so blinkin' cold but more so because I hurt as much after the finish as I did after my first few marathons. Waking up in the middle of the night because your legs are so painful isn't something that's happened since Hastings in 2008 (setting aside the 10 in 10 ) and the thought of putting myself through that 10 more times was enormously depressing. It also seemed inappropriate to be moaning about a horrible race after so many people, and Mark in particular, had had fantastic marathons, there's nothing worse than someone tainting your achievement by whinging about how miserable they are.

As a result, I was dreading Brentwood. It's off road and the paranoia has started to build that I may get injured between now and the 100th. There have been a few people who've had to get through their last few marathons on injuries and it's not appealing; however, with so many people going out to Malta, the pressure is considerable. I'm also slower off road and wasn't looking forward to 5 hours of shuffling about in the cold. What I expected to be fairly flat, nicely smooth gravel packed paths turned out to be a mix of slippy grass and muddy trail, barely any of it flat, and two long hills on each of the 12 laps. Thank god for the laps, 12 is a perfect, many divisible number to break it up all manner of ways, and it actually felt like a 12 mile race, with each mile being really quite long.

It was lung-shrinkingly cold again (proved by a bit of a coughing fit post race) but the sun was out on a few stretches, which made the frosty grass fairly greasy, contrasting with the ever increasingly churned up mud on the woody sections. Road shoes meant a lot of sliding around, but it was worth it to avoid vile trail shoes (anyone want a filthy, no doubt mouldy, very much unwanted pair of Innov8s?). Lovely to see deer in the park, particularly the buck that crashed out of the bushes and bounded across the path in front of me in the woods. Also very lovely in the last 2 laps to see Mark turn up after his cross country to provide cheers and spur me on through the last few miles.

Having set off at a sedate pace, I was able to run all the hills to the 8th lap, then walked just the top section of the steeper hill, it was quite reassuring to see I could get up them, albeit very slowly. I have a very sore ankle from a totally unnecessary ditch we had to cross and inside of the right hip flexor from the hill running and had no thought of placing at my plodding pace. So when I got to the brow of the final hill, with about 100 yards to go, and one girl just ahead of me, it seemed only right to pick off one more place if I could. I sprinted past her and pipped her to the line by about 2 seconds. With 4'31, it was a very pleasant surprise to be presented with a trophy for second lady but I felt rather guilty for swiping it from under t'other girl's nose right on the line. Sometimes it's worth turning up to races with a small field, you can do better than you expected.

Leicester marathon

2010-10-10T18:03:00.001+01:00

The ancient Greeks has a philosophy that the mind is like a house with lots of rooms, some of which you shouldn't go into. Today, a door opened to one room and, because of a momentary falter, I had a bit of a peek inside. And very nearly ruined my whole race. It was only at 12 miles and my legs had been tired and heavy all the way through the previous almost-two-hours, and were feeling very sluggish. But this seemed to bring things to a head, it was almost certainly psychosomatic (and hence why I shouldn't have gone into the room), but suddenly I felt very spacey, the tunnel vision descended and my legs felt like lead. For half a mile all I could think about was curling up and sleeping but luckily I came up to a 100 Clubber taking his daughter round her first marathon who chatted for a bit. That bit of reality shook me out of my funk, I've no idea where it came from, but things got better from there.

The moral is, there are doors in your mind that you shouldn't open during a marathon. They are the doors to doubt, fatigue, tired and aching limbs ( NB. you should open the pain-that-indicates-you've-done-some-damage door), getting carried away and bombing through the first 6 miles, thinking about the finish until you're certain you're going to get there etc etc. And there are doors that you need to open as you get further through a race: confidence, belief in your training, desire to achieve the targets you've set, a healthy dose of competition, determination to stick through the last 10 miles when you want to walk, the rewards of getting the finish you want.

Now I've stretched that metaphor to its limits, back to the marathon. Or rather not, there's not much to say. The second half was better than the first - the half runners were winding me up big time in the first 6 miles and I have never seen such a shocking collection of terrible running styles, arms flailing, legs kicking out every which way, over striding, scuffing, heads shoved forward. It was extraordinary. That's not a comment on half marathoners, it merely seemed like a convention of runners desperate to injure themselves.

Mentally, I felt stronger the more this race went on, which isn't surprising, it gets easier the fewer miles you have left, and found it quite rewarding to give a bit of encouragement to a few guys doing their first back to back marathon and to a guy going for his first sub 4 (he got it). The last mile is cruelly uphill but my pacing had been a bit more classic today - first half 1'56, second half 1'59 so I just had to keep running for the sub 4. Nice even pacing throughout, after a bit of a speedy start, nice strong finish, not too trashed afterwards, and home by 5pm, not a bad day all round.

Jersey Marathon

2010-10-04T14:01:00.000+01:00

Disclaimer: this blog may be edited when I'm less grumpy)

It was drizzling when we started and it soon turned into heavy rain that persisted for the majority of the race. Not very nice but thinking of the masochists doing the Atlantic challenge (3 x well over 26 miles along the Cornish coastline in even worse conditions) helped put it into perspective. My aim was to take it really easy in order to run the whole thing, running so badly has been depressing me especially in the light of seemingly everyone else getting faster and faster. How ungracious. Running easy meant I went backwards in the first mile and it felt like the whole field passed me. I tried to ignore it but was disappointed to see that my easy pace was 9'30s, that's horribly slow.

Still, I was enjoying it as best I could, Jersey's a pretty place and the route is lovely - narrow lanes through the countryside and woods and the odd village. Running round the airport was a new one, those planes are quite loud when they're metres above your head. And the marshals in this race are the most complimentary I've encountered, I heard "Lovely legs" and "Very elegant" among others. I got through half way in 2'05 so if only 9'30s were manageable and allowing for a bit of drift in the second half, sub 4 was off really and even if I could run it all, 4'15 seemed like the most optimistic target.

The 9'30s still felt ok though I was having to run harder for them. With 7.2 miles left I had just over an hour to get to 4'00 that seemed impossible at my current rate of fitness. With 5.2 miles to go, I had 43 minutes, again, impossible. A soaring descent got me only an 8'26, going faster on the flat was unthinkable. The next mile, on the flat, was 8'44, it wasn't going to happen. But something came to mind, someone who believes that I can run faster than I think and it seemed a nice opportunity to see if he was right.

8'09. 7'50. I'd been passing marathon runners for 10 miles but now I was passing relay runners and the radio DJ who said "some runners are still looking relatively fresh" which was nice to hear. 7'28 for the last mile. On the approach to the finish, I passed a young guy shuffling in who saw me and immediately responded to race me in. My lack of acceleration and 3 mile kick meant there was no more speed so he just pipped me to the line, with one spectator yelling "let her have it" at his lack of sportsmanship. Can't get beaten by a girl eh? Idiot.

I was really happy with my race time and a big negative split (2'05 and 1'54) until it sank in that it's still rubbish. Running eyeballs out for only a 7'50 is rubbish. Only 6 months ago my easy pace was 8'30 / mile for THE WHOLE DAMN RACE. And then I got depressed. Jealousy is ugly, being pleased about a sub 4 is ridiculous when I was comfortably running 3'40s a few months ago, blogs are full of trophies, PBs and "I got rained on more than you" one-upmanship. I'm running like rubbish and the last thing that will help are platitudes about me being tired and over-raced.

Langdale marathon

2010-10-04T13:58:00.000+01:00

Langdale had been a highlight of my race calendar for months, we used to go for walks up there as a family and it's one of my favourite spots in the Lake District. It's also become the weekend for the 10 in 10 reunion - mara Saturday afternoon with a 12pm start, dinner and drinks with the 10 in 10ers Saturday evening and a lazy Sunday morning made infinitely better by upgrading to one of Brathay's very luxurious chalets with views over the mountains.

The 10 in 10 had started to change for me; in the first few months of the year it was the biggest thing in my life, training dominated everything and it was paying huge dividends - my times were dropping, my recovery lightening fast, my injuries negligible. And the event was huge. Since then, it seems every man and his dog is running multiple marathons at the drop of a hat or back to back 100 mile ultras, while I've got slower and slower and more and more tired with every marathon completely wiping me out. Classic over-training / over-racing.

Going back to Brathay reminded me why it is so special. It's not just about pitching up, running 262 miles, ticking the box and moving on. It's about the charity you're running for, about the people you meet and relationships you form, about the things you learn about yourself, not just the strength to get through it but also the humility, appreciation of other people's efforts (and that's support as well as runners) and good humour required. It's the sort of event that should change you because it is so intense. It was fantastic that some of my favourite people were there, notably Chris and Jim, who have become those sort of friends you value incredibly highly.

As for the race, it was just as beautiful as expected and even tougher. I usually like laps but the lack of strength at the moment made the second very hard and the 12pm start made it feel like a Very Long Day Indeed. Still, it was absolutely stunning. I loved the fat little brown sheep who raced alongside us in the first mile until, as a man (or a sheep), they refused the fence and were brought to a baffled, milling standstill. The sun reflecting off Blea Tarn, the shadows of the clouds moving across the valley, the chickens running about in the road and teetering across the cattle grid, the bracken on the hillsides looking like swathes of rust in the low light in late afternoon, and the soaring views from about mile 9.5 and 22.5 up the Langdale valley had me grinning like an idiot. First runner's high in about 4 months.

It was a bastard of course, especially in my current state of fitness and I really struggled to get round in 4'57. Again, not quite the wooden spoon but it wasn't far off. Unfortunately my legs were totally smashed afterwards with the uphills obliterating my glutes and the downhills annihilating my quads. I'd booked in to see 10 in 10 physio Graham at The Body Rehab on Monday which was exquisitely excruciating, next time, he's going to have a stick for me to bite on rather than chewing his pillows to bits. I'm also the proud owner of kinesio tape to help out the rib that's still pretty sore, a brand new style of tit tape.

42 marathons down this year, 10 to go for 52 in a year, then it's the final coast to the 100. It almost feels within reach now.

2 to go & Nottingham marathon double

2010-09-13T20:01:00.000+01:00

So that was a rather crazy weekend, I'm exhausted in many various ways. The Two to go marathon on Saturday felt like a formality, just one to be ticked off before the main events started. I enjoyed it last year but found it a bit dull this time round, although things were livened up by the entire field going the wrong way at one point. Some poor sods ran an extra 3 miles, I was lucky and clocked an mere 1/2 km extra. I find it really hard to run 26 miles without stopping now so had a few walk breaks from 30k. Got round in 4'06 with no dramas and no nose bleeds. It was a shame the finish left a bit of a bad taste (rip off food & drink, cheapest bit of pressed tin medal, shower block knocked down etc) but relaxing in the sunshine for an hour with lots of familiar faces was most pleasant.

Then it was off to Nottingham to meet up with Team Sparta, a ragtag army of half and full runners, all of whom were slightly hungover and not very well prepared to run anywhere but more than happy to look rather foolish for everyone else's entertainment.

L-R: me, Frances, Paula, Mark & Clair

The aim was to run with Mark for a sub 4 but right from the start I knew that wasn't going to happen, my legs were totally empty and I felt completely wiped out. I'd had a blood test earlier in the week that had revealed that my creatine kinase levels were about 800% higher than normal, ie. I'm running on massive muscle damage and that's why my times have slipped, my recovery is taking longer and why my legs just blinking hurt all the time. My 100th at Malta has taken on a life of its own however, and there are already about 25 people lined up with flights and hotels booked so I have to get there. It just means I won't be pushing hard through any marathons any time soon.

So I kept up with Mark for just over 10 miles, the attention he was getting was fantastic and I was killing myself laughing for most of those 90 minutes. He'd be running along with his shield and huge sword, then suddenly pounce at a small unwitting child who would leap out of his skin. He was getting such a good reaction from the crowd I kept forgetting I was a Spartan too. It would have been nice to have made more effort to join in but I was concentrating more on finishing and wanted to keep my head down and be a bit insular during the run.

What I wasn't forgetting about the outfit was how hot it was and how it was starting to chafe like crazy, mainly the seams inside the bodice and the edging on the skirt. The flappy epaulette things were constantly jumping about in the periphery of my vision too.

Mark let me fall behind after 10 miles, I was struggling and he looked really fresh (and went on to run a massive negative split, very proud of him overtaking half the field and really annoying them, imagine a bearded, semi naked, helmeted bloke barrelling past you, brandishing a 4 foot sword, cloak billowing in the wind and shouting RARRRRGGGGHHHH at 22 miles. Demoralising for you. Very funny for us.) and I ditched the costume on Stella at half way. Sorry Stella. Then again, how often can you cycle up alongside a girl, say hello to get the reply "do you mind if I undress and give you my clothes?" Feeling much lighter and unhampered, if rather self conscious, the second half was more of a no frills marathon - no watch, far fewer runners, fewer spectators, no hills, just 13 miles to cover. I liked the purity of it.

This marathon was so enjoyable, in two entirely different ways: the first half really really funny watching Chiefy play to the crowds and the second focusing on running at its most concentrated. Nottingham gets a million extra points for handing out water and lucozade in small 200 or 250ml bottles, at very regular intervals, perfect for a few sips and meaning you don't need any gels. I ran with a first time marathoner between 16 and 22 when he dropped me. You can never forget to be humble when you're still running at 22 miles and you get dropped by a marathon virgin. As last year, I loved running round the lake and, while I still felt very tired and sore legged, had enough energy to keep running to the finish. It was reassuring to know that 13 straight miles to round off a double is still possible.

My pacing over this double is bizarrely like clockwork, last year, I ran 3'51 and 3'49, this year I ran 4'06 and 4'05. What was best was the turnout, Chris, Jim and Dave from the 10 in 10, loads of Fetchies and 100 clubbers, and the man of the match, David Bayley, running his 100th marathon. One of the best post-marathon pub afternoons ever (in spite of the terrible service) and a hilarious train ride home with the Spartans. A top weekend all round.

Weary and worse for wear Spartans in civvies and Percy Pigs

Kent Coastal marathon

2010-09-05T20:01:00.001+01:00

The Kent Coastal is a lovely marathon, well organised by Thanet Roadrunners with loads of marshals and water stations, nicely pretty along the sea front, a few bumps to break it up and a bargain price. This is the third year in a row I'd done this race so there was a tiny incentive to beat my last two times here of 3'57 and 3'51, a rather challenging task given my shonky pace lately. However, I set off at a pace that felt a little stretchy but sustainable that turned out to be about 8'30s. That worked great until 16 miles.

Then I got a huge nosebleed, no idea where it came from, it's never happened in any of my races before. Apologies to the squeamish, but it was bleeding so much that it was down my race number, splashed onto my legs and all up my right arm, even on my shoulder and over my hands within seconds. Two very kind ladies from the cafe on the seawall rushed over with tissues and water to mop me up, and prop me up because by this time it was only the railing that was keeping me upright, it had all gone rather dark and spinny. After a fair bit of dabbing, I set off again as my legs were fine, if a bit splattered, but it wouldn't blinkin' stop. What was worse, it seemed to be correlated to my pace, the faster I ran the faster it ran. I tried to wash it off but gave up after a bit, it's not a beauty contest after all and it was just being replaced by fresh stuff. I was also feeling very very spacey and dizzy so had to have a few walk breaks from 20 miles, just to get the damn thing to dry up a bit and to give my head a break, I had a splitting headache by this time too.

It was a bit annoying because I'd been on for 3'50 to 16 miles but all the faffing about and feeling like I was about to pass out lost that. Oh well, there are other races and it's nice to know I do still have a bit of speed in the old legs. What did surprise me was when I spotted Warren just ahead of me about 100 yards from the finish and yelled "Warren, don't let me pass you on the line!" That's what I was trying to say, but it came out like a stroke victim - "Wozdohnlehpass'nline", I couldn't articulate at all. So it was perhaps less surprising when I came over the finish line and hit the deck. Some very nice marshals looked after me, indeed, today's highlight was Derek the medic dabbing the blood away from my face with a wetwipe, he was as gentle and caring as a grandfather looking after a small grandchild.

4'08 wasn't too bad I suppose in the circumstances, and suggests that 2 x sub 4s in the 2 to Go and Robin Hood double next weekend may just be within reach with a bit of HTFUing. Even as a Spartan.

Fleetwood marathon

2010-08-31T19:11:00.000+01:00

There was an inauspicious start to the Fleetwood marathon: I arrived in dire need of breakfast but there was nothing to be seen. The next door leisure centre had a cafeteria however, so off I went in hope of a round of toast and a cup of tea, to find three vending machines. Vending machines do not sell anything resembling proper food and Fleetwood at 8.30am on a Sunday morning is bereft of a functioning caff, apart from a MacDonald's in an out of town shopping centre. Low blood sugar loss of temper was increasingly close when I placed an emergency call to my mum to deliver take away breakfast. I felt very guilty that not only had I dragged her all the way to vile Fleetwood early on a Sunday but that it was also a truly miserable morning. So it was that I was stuffing down a barely chewed but very tasty MacD's egg, bacon and cheese muffin and a hash brown 20 minutes before the gun went. My digestive system is fairly robust but this did ensure a cautious start for first 2 miles. Happily, it worked fine and I didn't need any other energy at all during the race. All those recommendations to have porridge 2 hours before the race, then a sports drink 30 minutes before, no need. Just find whatever greasy bacon sandwich you can get your hands on and start out slow.

As for the start, have you ever seen that penguins game on iGoogle? There are a bunch of penguins shuffling aimlessly around a small box and when you move your cursor, they all turn as one and shuffle towards it. Move your cursor to the opposite side of the screen and they all about face and shuffle back. The start was like that. There was no line as it had been covered by sand, and no banner as it would have blown away, but noone knew which direction we were going so there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with the speedy ones having to shove down the sides to get to what they thought was the front. With very little fanfare, the Mayor set us off. They could have at least given him a chair to stand on, noone saw him.

We set off through Fleetwood which is a total dump with a lot of care homes, a lot of run down small factory buildings masquerading as the set of a Guy Ritchie film, the Fisherman's Friend plant and a ferry to get the hell out of there. Nowt else. The route was unfathomable on the map with lots of loops and a few zig zags but the bulk of it from 7 to 23 miles was on the coastal path, a concrete sea wall. Hence no cover. It was blowing a gale inland that morning so there was no cover from the elements on the exposed coast so when we got round the turn at 7 miles we were full into a monster headwind. It was slap into your face, blasting sand at you in every direction, so much so that I was running with my right arm over my face but still had to screw my eyes up so much that I couldn't see where I was going and earned 10 years' worth of wrinkles in 26 miles. As for all those expensive microdermabrasion treatments they flog on Harley Street, save your money and come to Fleetwood. All exposed skin was stripped red raw by the sand blasting.

The water stations were ridiculously stretched out in this marathon at 3, 7, 13, 16, 21.5 and 24 miles. Two 6 mile stretched between stations is way too far especially when you've got a gob full of hurricane driven sand and you've had a very salty breakfast. I was quite traumatised after less than half way, it felt like I'd done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and was totally battered and exhausted. What made it worse was the mental fight to keep going, at no point could you stop concentrating on maintaining some sort of straight line or not getting knocked over or blown into the wall. 4+ hours of deafening white noise torture from the gales was also very unpleasant. I like the quiet (in my office, you can usually hear no more than the airconditioning and tapping on keyboards) and this was brutally and unremittingly noisy.

There were some surreal distractions from the louring skies and boiling brown seas (yes, the sea is brown here because of all the mud washed down the Morecambe estuary) - running underneath the Blackpool illuminations was an odd flashback to childhood trips. One evening every September, we'd crawl along the prom in the car and one of us would be sent out to the chippy to get the round in. Traffic moved so slowly, you could get served and back to the car and it had only moved 50 yards. Today, we passed the Jolly Roger, Doctor Who, a haunted house, Humpty Dumpty, plenty of Buddhas and a bizarre Roman temple complete with centurion. No doubt he was after the Vestal Virgin peering coyly out of the window.

After several miles of slogging into the wind, I was a bit fed up of running what felt like 8 minute miles to achieve 12 minute miles, so I walked 21.5 to 24 with some good company from a multiple marathoner on a mighty impressive challenge to run 223 maras in memory of his nephew and another similarly impressive bloke running his first 10 marathons all in one year. I couldn't bear the shame of walking the last couple of miles so ran those for a shame-inducing time of 4'42. Those heady days of effortless PBs and serial sub 3'50s seem a long time ago.

Isle of Man marathon

2010-08-09T19:51:00.000+01:00

I was absolutely knackered this weekend, having been burning the candle well and truly at both ends. My last job was so quiet that going into the office was my chance to have a rest, but my new one is requiring me to actually work, and work quite hard. The running had swelled to use up all the energy I should have been using in the office, but now I've got the double whammy of keeping the momentum going with the marathons as well as putting some effort into my job.

Hence, last weekend, I ran the Faversham marathon on Saturday, then flew to the States on Sunday for a conference and series of meetings - 8 of them on Monday, conference and drinks reception Tuesday, morning conference and 4 more meetings Wednesday. I'd managed to make the most of jet lag and get to the gym each morning, but my efforts were feeble. Three tiring days were followed by an overnight flight and straight into the office (well, I snuck home for a shower in between) for a full day then the Camra beer festival with the hard core London drinking crew. I was so tired I felt drunk even before I got in, but managed to stay awake for 10 different beers and 2 shots of toffee vodka.

Friday was predictably a write off, sitting at my desk toggling between spreadsheets with the latent horror of how much work I've got on slowly building up. None was possible. I just about managed to remind myself that Saturday's flight was at 8.50am not 9.50am.

Although that was pretty painful, getting to Douglas before noon meant I had an entire afternoon of enforced relaxation. I can't remember the last time I had the chance to read newspapers and have the odd snooze, and the sunshine coming in through the window was delicious. I think it may have been Alcman who used the phrase "limb-loosening" (one of the Greek elegiac poets at any rate, and in a rather different context), anyway, this was proper limb-loosening and restorative relaxation.

That was rather a long preamble to a race report.. The Isle of Man marathon is one of my favourite sorts of race - small field, country lanes, great views, lots of familiar faces. It's over two loops which was perfect, it was good to know what was coming in the second half. There are two mini hills and two midi hills in this, a bit of undulation and some blissful shallow descents, an excellent route all round. For the first time in months, I managed to run the whole of the marathon, get reasonable splits, and finally get under that blasted 4 hours. 3'56 and 6th lady for mara #80. A few hours at the rugby club with a bar and free buffet, watching the other runners come in and the presentations before a lift to the airport generously provided by Selina (who set a second PB in as many weeks) and a return journey that, although it involved a flight, took less time and fractionally less cash than a trip to Salisbury for the 54321 mara would have done. Naturally, I bagged my run this morning in favour of 90 minutes' more sleep.

Catching up - Faversham marathon

2010-08-09T19:48:00.000+01:00

It’s interesting that trail marathons that take you across 26+ miles of largely pretty scenery bore me senseless. It’s probably because I’m concentrating on where to put my feet, the time passes very slowly and it feels like I’m out there for the best part of a day. On the other hand, a marathon comprised of 40 laps of a small recreation ground in a small town in Kent passed very quickly and most enjoyably and I was finished by lunchtime, leaving the rest of the weekend clear for other activities essential for a well-rounded life: good company, good wine, and getting on a plane to the States for work (spot the odd one out).

I’d never done more than 5 laps in a single marathon before, though this reminded me somewhat of the 10 in 10. There’s something very soothing about a multiple lap course, once you’ve settled into a good pace, you can get into a rhythm that rocks you into a world without time or distance or distractions, no mobile or blackberry or emails to answer, just the same kilometre of path to cover, over and over and over. Each lap was about 50m over one k, and the clock indicated my pace was really consistent at just under 6 minutes per lap. I was really enjoying this marathon and knew it was a far better race to test my current fitness than my recent events.

The route fell into a sort of isosceles triangle – a long steady uphill, topped off by a short sharp climb, a long descent and a short section of flat. The mini hill was fine for the first 10 laps, ok for the next 10, getting rather like hard work for the next 10, knackering the next 2 and then I had 10k to go so I walked it from then on. As for the number of laps I did, I have no idea. I was very puzzled when I went through 21.1km on the nose according to the garmin and was told I’d only done 19 and my official finish clocked almost 43km on the watch. It’s more likely that running in a fairly tight circle made the garmin go a bit screwy, so my finish time was a shade over 4 hours, indicating some return to form.

I’ve hit the wall so many times in marathons, pretty much every marathon since April, and it was nice to have got a lot further in this before capitulating. Even tripping over my own feet after about 15k and ending up sprawled across the path, causing Roger to full on hurdle me before gallantly offering my a hand up didn’t lose more than a few seconds. Maybe without that pimple of a hill I would have been able to go sub 4, certainly without the extra distance that the watch logged. It was a good day.

Faversham is organised by 100 club Sid. It’s not just for 100 clubbers, but there were a lot of them making up the 60 strong field. With so many laps, you were constantly going past people, and having people pass you and it was a very social day out. I feel a bit spoiled lately after the Enigma and this, it’s lovely to feel like a real part of the marathon circuit and to be treated as one of them. Some of these old boys (and not a few girls) are legendary. Seeing John Dawson keep going after his eye op and Selina set a huge PB after hundreds of marathons among all the other inspiring people is incredibly motivating.

Sid knows what marathon runners want and had set out a very professional event with a bank of lap counters and a station laden with water, orange, ribena, lucozade, electrolyte, flapjacks, jelly babies, cereal bars and god knows what else. He then spoiled us rotten at the finish with a Morrisons carrier bag stuffed full of an energy drink, a bottle of Spitfire (brewed in Faversham), a 2 lottery ticket (along with the clause that 10% of any winnings were due back to him) and a giant trophy. No crappy old pressed tin medals here, this was about 10 inches tall with blue paint and monstrously brash. I love it. A great race with only a 5.30am alarm call, and back in London for 3.15pm, now that’s efficient marathon running.

An action weekend - 1 marathon, 1 skydive and some obligatory partying

2010-07-25T19:35:00.000+01:00

David Bayley is one of those runners who does a huge amount more than *just* running loads of marathons. He's about to run his 100th at Nottingham, ran Comrades this year and is going to run the 10 in 10 for the third consecutive year in 2011. But he also selflessly and cheerfully paces people round to PBs, raises thousands and thousands for charity and puts on marathons for those of us desperate enough to want to run them every weekend of the year.

The Summer Enigma was the second in the series, and I freely admit I found it really boring the first time at Easter, but this promised to be a great social day out. Of the 27 runners, I knew about 24 of them, a great mix of 10 in 10ers, Fetchies and 100 Clubbers and there was a great atmosphere, especially at the finish where everyone sprawled out on the grass to welcome people in. It wasn't the most exciting of races but I didn't dislike it as much as I feared and there was some good company from Heather, David himself and Joe. Catching up with 10 in 10 Jim on the way there and back was a particular treat. My X marks the spot tan line from my top was well and truly reinforced too so it was a grand day out on the Grand Union Canal.

I legged it back to London to get scrape off all the salt and put on a cleaner pair of shorts for Frances' birthday drinks with many of the usual drinking suspects and some very fierce shoes. Several cocktails later and I was dropping so, as inviting as more drinks and dancing at some nightclub sounded and as fine as the company was, I did my Cinderella and went home. I had to be up at 4am to get to the completely misnamed North London Parachute Jump site, in Cambridgeshire. North OF London perhaps.

I'd signed up to do a tandem skydive with a bunch of people from work and was so floored by the combination of lack of sleep, mild hangover, not eating very much and a marathon that the thought of throwing myself out of a plane really didn't get the nerves going at all, my brain just couldn't compute it. After a few hours hanging around in the sunshine drinking tea and watching a solo jumper land in the only bush in the entire county, it was our go. I was attached to a predictably lairy pro who distracted me from the 13,000 foot drop with talk of our second date until he shoved me out of the hole in the side of the plane. The freefall bit was an unbelievable rush, it didn't feel like we were falling, more like we were entirely weightless in a monstrous wind. The parachute bit that follows is very calm and peaceful. Your focus shifts from "Oh my god, this feels incredible!!!!!!" to "Oh, wow, look at the view!", the widest horizon you've ever seen, the stillness and silence, and the bloke behind you yelling "You want more, baby? You want me to give you MORE?" Cambridgeshire looks infinitely prettier from way up in the sky than it did in the Pathfinder marathon last August. It's all over far too quickly and my only fear is having discovered a potentially new, very expensive hobby.

Fairlands Valley marathon

2010-07-18T19:12:00.000+01:00

I don't know about you, but these race reports can get a bit boring no? Haven't you heard enough of: I ran each 5k in the following splits, had a gel at the following miles, hit the wall at 18 miles, thought of my kids / cat / dead Great Auntie Florence to get me through the last few miles, pulled a hamstring / got cramp / had my leg gnawed off by a rabid cow, had to stop for a comfort break (far too frequently supplied with all the associated and unnecessary detail), got competitive in the final 100 yards to finish one place higher in a field of 10,000 runners and half kill myself in the process etc etc. We've all done it, and it's important to you, of course. But there's a limited amount of things to say about a marathon and an even more limited amount of interesting things to say about a marathon. I'm not sure why I keep writing about them, some of my races are so unmemorable I'd be quite happy to let them slide into the deepest corners of my memory, and be forgotten. So if you're bored by reading about marathons, here's your Stop sign.

Fairlands Valley was infinitely better than I expected. It was much more runnable than Tanners with smoother, wider paths, fewer hills and lots of blissful tarmac. So runnable, in fact, that I got through the first half in just over 2 hours. Unfortunately I did hit the wall around 18 miles, having omitted to eat anything at the checkpoints. Walking a few miles meant that lots of 100 clubbers and Fetchies went past me, it was an excellent turnout, and things got much easier in the last few miles once a few sticky, stodgy, almost indigestible lumps of bread pudding at the last checkpoint worked their magic. I think that's the first time I've gone sub 5 in an LDWA style event.

There is a reason to celebrate. Having planned all my races through to my 100th, I don't have to do any more seriously off road events. There's still the Enigma, the 2 to go and the Grantham double, but the canal stuff is trail-lite (don't you just hate deliberately mispelt words?), nothing like Langport or Tanners or those horrific coastal things. I might not have to be out for more than 5 hours ever again.

Tanners 30..in more than two words

2010-07-05T15:24:00.000+01:00

The so called early 9am start was a good idea, it's not even early and it gave me a bit more leeway on an event that I knew was going to take a very long time even in a best case scenario. The first 10 miles went ok actually, in terms of the running. Anticipating grumpiness, and wanting to accept responsibility for my own route finding, I wanted to do this by myself so was rather put out by a Kraut who tucked in behind me, ran when I ran, walked when I walked, and was so obviously using me as scout that when he asked me where we were he got a pretty short reply. Worse still was some idiot in terrible purple shorts who popped up from the wrong direction with a mobile glued to his ear. No water, no gels or food, just a mobile and the route description. Well prepared then.

I'd reached a long downhill that I booted down to drop the Kraut and managed to get a bit of space, however, there was a gappy bit in the directions shortly afterwards. I went to investigate one path, only part convinced it was the right one, and Mobile Junky decided to tag along. When I realised it wasn't and turned back, he had the cheek to pause his conversation and ask me "are we lost then?". I said "it's your own responsibility mate, we're not running together" to which I got a (somewhat justifiable) mumbled reply of "f*****g snotty cow". But, jesus, if you do these events then you have to be able to find your own way. It's not a bleeding guided tour.

A few miles later I was still going ok until I tripped over a root or something and went arse over tip. Entirely winded, bit shaken, re-busted toenail, grazed, bruised, dented pride, and busted confidence. Mentally I'd reached a total block. If I cared more about trail, I'd get therapy or something but there is something subconscious and very determined that I am Not Going To Run Off Road. It just wouldn't happen. The body was fine, energy levels were ok, nothing was hurting, but something was stopping me. It felt like I wasn't fit enough to even jog a mere half mile and no matter how often I tried, the dials were in the red zone and sirens were sounding and men in boiler suits were rushing around with fire extinguishers.

So I could walk it. But that's not a marathon to me. This is a deeply personal and subjective view of course and I recognise one that is harsher than that held by the 100 marathon club so I'm going by the 100 club rules until I've got my 100, and then I'm going back and doing it my way. To me, you should be able to run the whole damn lot of a race (you can on this one), it should be an actual race with a start line, proper timing, a finish line, an incentive to finish on the podium, a course where the front runners are busting a gut, where the middle packers are competing with their club mates and where the back of the packers are still involved in a race. Not just a test to see who's got the biggest balls / most obstinacy just to get round. So the next chance I got, I was going to drop out.

That chance never came and, christ, was I fed up by it. The few roads we crossed were too small for buses and were nowhere near towns and I was in a very temporary period of just-get-on-with-it at the penultimate checkpoint at 21 where there may have been a chance of a lift. At the final checkpoint, I really had had enough, all the walking had tightened up my right hip flexor and my feet were killing but mainly it was the CBAs. However, the promise of transport back to the start/finish for retired runners didn't stand. I could either wait until 7pm when the checkpoint closed (contrary to the 6pm stated on the route description) or I could carry on. Only in the case of injury requiring medical attention would they help. So they didn't know about any buses going past near by? That would be a No then.

It's not my intention to slag trail off, lots of people really enjoy it and it has its advantages. However, I can't see the point of shuffling up and down rooty tracks for the best part of a day when I could have covered 26.2 miles on tarmac before lunch. According to my garmin, I covered the 31 miles in a shade under 8 hours, that's about 12 miles running and about 19 miles walking. And it's officially number 76. But it's not a marathon. How can that be a marathon? The only good things about today were the fabulously warm weather, some lovely views, and all the Fetchies and 100 Club friends who passed me, some keeping me company for a while and all with a friendly greeting. That definitely restored some faith. But other than that it was appalling.

To top it all off, I almost got into a fight at Waterloo station on the way home. I was ordering at a sandwich bar and got confused by the offer of trading up for a meal deal. The girl behind me told me it was only a penny or something more for the drink. I said, "ok, I'll have a bottle of water then thanks" to the girl behind the bar. Customer offered to take the water if I didn't want it to which I replied, "er, no, otherwise I wouldn't have taken it". She says "yeah, I thought you looked like a bitch anyway." What? I'd had a long day, was fed up anyway and certainly didn't need any uninvited insults so told her to go screw herself. "Thanks, but you're really ugly, so no thanks." I'd had enough by now (round two) so said "Look, sweetheart, if you're after a punch in the mouth you're going the right way about it." Trouble is, if she'd squared up to me, I would have done it. I already had my own blood on my knee, palm, elbow and shoulder and I was more than ready to get someone else's on my knuckles. Fortunately for me and my as yet non-existent criminal record, she'd been served by now and buggered off. It was a stark contrast to the journey out of London where I got chatted up on a train platform (declined). What's the opposite of ring composition?

The Tanners Ultra.. in two words

2010-07-04T21:56:00.001+01:00

Unspeakably awful

Mauritius marathon - number 75 and 2nd lady

2010-06-21T18:04:00.000+01:00

It can be a gamble entering the first edition of an event, but the Mauritius marathon went very smoothly. My hotel, Les Pavillons was part of a hotel group sponsoring the marathon, and I’d had a few outrageously lazy days lying on a sunlounger under a palm tree on the beach, reading, snoozing, sipping cocktails and going for dips in the sea. Friday’s race briefing was at another hotel in the same group, the Tamassa on the south coast near Bel Ombre, which is still very nice but not quite as indulgent and luxurious as mine. I got chatting to a girl there who has whispered seductive thoughts in my ear: she’s running marathons on the 7 continents. Hmmmm, yet another excuse to go on even further flung holidays… The briefing was by a hunky French doctor and featured the race director, a charming French gentleman with experience of Olympic events. We were in good hands.

The race started at 6.30am on Sunday, plenty of time to get the bulk of it done before it got warm. The route wrapped around the south western corner of the island, starting at an otherwise deserted shopping mall, and heading north for 5k then returning south through small villages, past Le Morne, the considerable rocky outcrop that overlooked my hotel, then along the stunning south coast past Baie du Cap and Bel Ombre to St Felix beach. The first stretch to Le Morne was standard issue – clumps of posh houses, pockets of villages with odd restaurants and shops, patches of wasteland and lots of sugar palm plantations. The highlight was running along the colourful Avenue de Jacarandas and getting glimpses of the sea as the sun came up.

The southern stretch was truly fabulous, the road follows the beach with mountains on the left and the sea is postcard perfect there – clear, azure blue water completely still up to the shoreline and waves slamming onto the reef break further out. By the time we’d got down there, more locals were out and about and, while they clearly had no idea what was going on, they were very friendly and smiley. It was mildly uncomfortable running past a funeral in the final kilometre, especially as it was open casket and I got a glimpse of the poor chap’s Sunday best suit, I felt quite disrespectful, but they were largely very encouraging. The good thing about this event is there was a ½ marathon and a relay going on at the same time which attracted a far greater proportion of Mauritian runners than international ones. It didn’t feel like a tourist jamboree, rather a Mauritian race that we were welcomed into.

Looking back at the race route at about 30k with Le Morne in the background

My race wasn’t so good today. I’d certainly tapered, having run very little this week, and was well rested. I probably hadn’t eaten enough, the food at my hotel was excellent in the big white plate and towers of food and smears of jus fashion, but I’d skipped lunch each day (pina coladas count surely?) and hadn’t really had that much more than usual on Saturday. I’m not sure that was the problem though, it was probably more an electrolyte issue. It wasn’t so hot during the race, no more than 25 degrees and fairly cloudy but very humid. For a fairly non-sweaty girl, I was sweating like a stuck pig today. There was pepsi at the water stations and I’d had two gels but I may have been a bit low on salts. Whatever it was, by 30km the wheels were coming off and by 2km later, they’d fallen off entirely.

Up to that point I’d been feeling good. It’s not an easy course with a lot of undulations, and a couple of significant hills, one long drag from c.11k and a shorter but steep little bastard at Le Morne. Still, I was running comfortably and at a decent pace and went through half way in 1’52. With only 10k to go though my legs gave up and felt like solid lead weights, there was no running in them whatsoever. At the 35k checkpoint, 7k seemed like such a long way left and it was pretty dispiriting really. I dropped quite a bit of time and was lucky to come in as second lady in a (for me) woeful time of 4’04. That was enough to bag me a podium finish but I ought to have been a good 20 minutes quicker. I’m not sure what’s going wrong at the moment. Yeah yeah, I’ve still got the 10 in 10 in my legs. But why am I so bleeding unfit?

There wasn’t much ceremony over the finish line, though the presentation was good and the police brass band most entertaining (how often do the police have a brass band, let alone one that does covers ranging from Louis Armstrong to Celine Dion?). The medal was tiny and far from memorable, though offset by a larger version for coming second lady and a rather nice prize of a 3 night stay in a Naiade hotel and free entry to the race next year. I'm now 3/4 of the way to the 100 and it was another lovely place to mark it (50 at Marrakech, 75 at Mauritius and 100 at Malta). What was by far the best bit was taking off my runners and getting straight into the sea. Not quite an ice bath but supremely refreshing.

The Langport double

2010-06-21T18:01:00.000+01:00

Within a mile or two of Day 1 of the Langport double, we had reached a section that reminded me precisely why I prefer road: thigh high grass concealing a surface that pitched and rolled like a ship in the southern seas. Since we were the only runners and therefore some of the first people to go through (the walkers had set off a bit earlier) Paul and Colin were doing a grand job of trailblazing while I desperately tried to hang on to the back of them. Saturday’s marathon happily had some good long stretches of tarmac but there was a lot of this very difficult deep grass to wade through. The high stepping running style you have to adopt is pretty exhausting.

What was even more unpleasant was being nettled half to death, the paths were totally overgrown and you just had to grit your teeth and get stuck in. My legs tingled all Saturday afternoon and evening and, even though it had eased off by the morning, they’re just as bad again. I’m very glad no one went into anaphylactic shock, I’m not sure it’s possible from nettles but I reckon it gave the wasps a run for their money.

There are always some pretty hamlets and views to reward your efforts in LDWA style races. Sadly, these events lacked the usual checkpoints with tables groaning from the weight of sandwiches, sausage rolls, cakes and rice pudding. Squash and a tin of sweets had to do. I was a bit caught out by the promise of “food” and definitely found that being on my feet for 5-6 hours on a few chocolate mini eggs isn’t ideal, I was very low on energy on both days. Overall though, they were well organised races with friendly marshals and even some tape marking the route.

My times weren’t too bad for a route-finding off-road double, 5’16 and 5’58. We had some lengthy pauses at checkpoints and especially at CP3 today where we all got a bit lost. They do seem like obstacle courses with numerous electric wires to duck under (I discovered not many were live) all the gates to open and close, particularly the Bristol gates with a good 12 inch clearance, and dozens of stiles. They honestly do get taller and taller the more miles you do until they turn into mountains. I lost count of the number of times I was grateful not to have short legs, it’s a minor advantage but one I was very grateful for.

Sunday was much the same though a different route so we didn’t have the benefit of Rima dragging her tyre and clearing the trail for us. I was tired today and struggled from early on, having managed to hang on to Paul and Colin for most of yesterday, I lost them fairly early on and then 100 club Danny and 2 ladies who ran today after about 30k. It was good timing, virtually all the rest of it was along the mightily tedious River Parrett and while my mood could barely cope with it by myself, it was unlikely it could have maintained enough good humour for company. I was glad to see the finish.

It wasn’t a bad pair of races, but they were purely for the numbers. That makes Mauritius next weekend a reward for the off road, and number 75. And then a rest.

Paul, Colin and me after Day 1

Dartmoor Discovery

2010-06-21T17:58:00.000+01:00

Apologies, my internet access has been reduced to a painful dial up crawl over the past few weeks and I'm only just catching up with posting my race reports.... This one was great, you can skip the Chester and Langport maras, deadly dull.

This was the third consecutive year I’ve run the Dartmoor Discovery. In 2008, it was my first ultra and I’d gone down there by myself, knowing no other runners and rather nervous of going beyond the marathon distance, especially as this is a notoriously tough race over many hills and exposed moorland. This year was very different to then when I’d run a mere 5 marathons (it’s relative, ok?) and felt a bit like a sacrificial lamb. The weather extremes are legendary, some years the runners have been burned to a crisp, some years (like 2009) deluged by so much rain that several were pulled off with near hypothermia. So even though it was forecast to be warm and sunny on Saturday, I still set off in a long sleeved top, fully expecting the mild start to turn into near freezing temperatures and sheets of icy rain. It came off within an hour, it was a very warm and humid day and I was more than happy to be proved wrong. Quite a few suffered with the combination, but happily it’s one that suits me, I’d far rather be hot and sweaty than cold and wet.

My training in 2008 had been pretty similar to my marathon training, with extra back to back runs, building up to 10 miles on Saturday followed by 20 on Sunday. It worked well but I suspect that running 10 hard marathons on 10 consecutive days prepares you as best as is possible. Sure, it’s made me a bit slow, but it’s provided the endurance and included a lot of hill training. That meant that I got round this feeling very comfortable on a cup of orange squash (the E numbers must help) at each of the 10 checkpoints and only half a lucozade sport energy bar. What a difference from Day 7 of the TiT!

Having heard me talk about how fantastic the DD is, Patrick had also entered and we set off together. He’s run several marathons this year and Comrades 5 times so he’d have no trouble, plus he’s a bit quicker than me so I fully expected him to push off as he usually does after about 10k. He decided, however, that he’d rather ease back and keep me company so we ran the whole thing together, the first time I’ve ever run an entire race with someone since my very first marathon. It was surprisingly nice, some of the time we’d chat, some of the time we’d be running alongside each other in very companionable silence and our pace seemed perfectly matched. It helps that I’m now a lot stronger up the hills, there’s no question that even a few months ago he would have got bored after about 10 miles, and it was a revelation to be able to run so much more of the course than I have done in previous years. I’ve always been hopeless on hills.

I’m by no means an ultra runner, but I will keep coming back to the DD as long as I’m able to and as long as it’s on. Sadly Phil Hampton can’t run it any more, it’s a massive commitment and he’s not getting any younger, but I very much hope the Teignbridge Trotters take it over. They have such a huge representation in the race that it would be a big gap in their club calendar. Plus it’s a very special event now, the last of the dying breed of ultra marathons on road. The trail ultra scene has taken off in recent years but the road ultra scene is facing extinction and a large part of it must be because it’s so much more difficult to organise a road race now, with licenses and permits etc. The DD has retained its competitive nature, it’s not just a distance to get round like many trail ultras, it’s a serious competition with some very exciting racing up at the front. It would be a huge shame to see it disappear.

It’s not just because it’s competitive that makes it so special. I’m never going to be anywhere near the front in the DD, I come for the superb organization, the way Phil looks after his runners, the atmosphere among the runners themselves, the weekend away and the stunning route. Of all the marathons and ultras I’ve run, this and Connemara are my two stand out events. Both have those wide open skies and soaring views that are somehow incredibly soothing. In the DD, you run down into wooded valleys, over ancient stone packhorse bridges, past tumbledown thatched cottages, through picture postcard hamlets and up onto the open moor with the tors punctuating the skyline. At this time of year, there are dozens of ponies about and lots of foals, some so fresh out of the box that they appear to be all long, perfectly turned out leg. Funny how several years on, they appear to be all stocky body. Not just humans who suffer that then.

It was the perfect counterfoil to Chester on Monday which was pretty disappointing. We were running well all the way through, even picking people off in the last few miles and not slowing down too much. We’d paced it well, relaxing on the downhills, maintaining momentum on the ups and coasting along the flats, neither pushing too hard nor being lazy. I was pleased with an average pace of 10’15 / mile given there are a lot of very serious inclines and an 11 minute course PB. Energy levels were good, the weather was great, the company excellent and the views fabulous. It was a proper life affirmer of a run.

At the start: L-R Paul, Patrick, me, Riel & Helen

Chester marathon

2010-05-31T20:38:00.001+01:00

As a wise fellow 10 in 10-er pointed out to me, it's inevitable that you have ups and downs in marathon running and, setting aside the TiT, my last few races had all gone very very well. I was really looking forward to running the Chester marathon: it's my first mara after the 10 in 10 and I think 14 days later was the right timing. All my niggles healed very quickly and I'd had a lot of rest (all motivation to train had disappeared with no big event to target) plus I was itching to run a marathon again. Unfortunately, it was probably always going to be a bit difficult emotionally.

I missed the routine that had evolved at the 10 in 10, the small group of runners who knew each other really well and could support each other, whether that was with words, a hug or merely the tacit awareness that we were all going through the same thing. I missed the physios, sure, the physical attention, but also their unswerving enthusiasm and cheerfulness. Selfishly, I missed being one of only 12 and it all being about us, though of course you can't expect that to continue. And I missed the route. Each mile of Windermere has its own character and the atmosphere develops and changes along the way. Chester is an out and back along a fairly straight cycle route that used to be a railway line and is very flat. I'm not criticising it, it's great for PBs, it just wasn't "my" marathon.

My rested legs had developed a lot more strength over 263 miles over a hilly course in 10 days (can someone explain to me how on earth I clocked it 0.1 mile long every single blinking day? I couldn't have cut any more corners without getting in the lake) and decided to set off way too fast. Sadly, those 262 miles were done a lot more slowly than my recent marathon pace and the cardio couldn't keep up. It would appear that I'm not very fit any more. Endurance. Tick. More strength. Tick. Improved obstinacy. Tick. Aerobic capacity. Fail.

I got through the first half in 1'50, my standard first half split but it had felt too hard, so I decided to take the third quarter easy with the hope of picking it up again from 20 miles. Incredibly, things were hurting too - my lower back was killing me, then my right glute went followed by my right ITB. It was very disappointing that things were hurting on a single race when I'd got through several in the 10 in 10 before niggles arose. Still, what it tells me is that I need to strengthen my lower back, do more stretching, and get back into interval training.

3'54 is a reasonable time, however, given my pre 10 in 10 times, it ought to have been 15 minutes faster. I made a comment a while ago about having to accept responsibility for your races. This was not about a lack of rest or training, or race conditions, or the route, or poor preparation, it was my own lack of fitness. At least that's provided renewed motivation.

PS. Today's highlight has got to be walking through the wrong door of the rugby club, turning my head to the right to see a tall, dark and handsome man, stark naked, walking towards me through a cloud of steam. So there was hot water in the men's showers then.

10 in 10 - make yourself comfortable!

2010-05-17T19:15:00.001+01:00

I’m not sure quite where to start, it’s been an immense journey over the past 262 miles and 10 days and one I’ll never forget. You learn a lot about yourself in an event like this and there’s no escaping the raw guts of your character.

It only took a couple of days to realise the win and the world record were not within my reach. It may have seemed like hubris to go into the race with the outright declaration that I was going for it, but I honestly thought it was possible and in order to have any chance at all, I had to believe it and I had to get the people around me to believe it too. After running eyeballs out for 2 days and having pretty tough races I knew that I had to ease back. Anna was looking incredibly strong too. On day 3 it felt like I was getting my strength back, starting to enjoy the event and finally immerse myself in it. I’d been fighting it a little bit up to that point, but then I realised that I was going to have to associate with every mile and put all thought of finishing out of my head until the finish line was upon me. Every day became Day 1 from then, it was one day at a time and one mile at a time. In the event, I didn’t even get the sub 45 hours but I’ve reached the point where the completion is enough. For a few days I wondered if I should do another one, a day 11, but one of the things I have learned over the past 10 days is that this IS enough. I’m a massive over achiever (have you noticed??) and I always want to go one better. However, it is a very small and exclusive club to have run 10 marathons in 10 days and I am entirely satisfied and pleased with my achievement.

Our part of the deal is to go out there at 10.15 every day and do our very best to get round the 26.2 miles. The physios’ deal is to scrape us off the floor, patch us up and prepare us for the next day. They did this with professionalism, good humour and exceptional support, I honoured to count them as friends. Graham at The Body Rehab clinic sponsored the 10 in 10, providing huge amounts of man power, kit and expertise along with a wicked sense of humour and a healthy dose of smut – he was rubbing my legs down one day and got called away to supervise something. He invited Paul to take over and “jam your fingers in there”. Nice! One of the perks of this brutal event is having two strapping men working on your legs at once, you’d pay a fortune for that anywhere else! Katie was my personal therapist from the morning of Day 1 and led my treatment twice a day covering massage, stretching, icing, lasering and taping over up to 3 hours a day. She even got me in the ice bath a couple of times. She became my honorary second sister for the event and showed a supremely caring side on my bad day, day 7, encouraging me to eat and looking after me like a mother hen. I can’t thank her enough.

You have to get through the low points to appreciate the highs, and some of the lows were crushing. I never reached the point where I wanted to chuck the whole thing in and that surprised me, I fully anticipated wanting to give up at some point. Like Mike Stroud on his trans-Antarctic expedition, it would have had to be an injury to give me an excuse to pull out, but even in the worst moments, it never crossed my mind to bin it. I had two serious lows – the start of day 3 and the evening of day 7 going into day 8. On day 3, I was starting to feel very claustrophobic around the other runners, it’s an intense atmosphere and you’re surrounded by other people all the time. I desperately wanted some space, both away from each race and also while out running. Having had 16 miles a day for 2 days with someone right by me, I was feeling really crowded. Luckily I ran most of day 3 alone. You have to love running in your own company for this event, there’s no point going into it if you need someone around to keep you going. I love the freedom of covering mile after mile due to my own ability and will power, sure, it was brilliant to see support out on the route, but it was a rare chance to be by entirely by yourself.

The evening of day 7 and morning of day 8 I was totally burned out. I’d taken my eye off the ball a bit with the nutrition after day 6’s race and hadn’t eaten enough and crashed headlong into the biggest wall I’ve ever encountered. To hit the wall at 4 miles and to have to get through 22 more on pure obstinacy was my biggest test and I think the moment I’m proudest of, to have got through that. Still, even in that struggle, I never thought about pulling out. Yes, the prospect of 10 miles has never felt so long, but I knew I’d finish and it was then that I discovered just how committed Mac, the physios and my family were to getting me through it. It was harder after that race, I was so drained that anyone being nice to me or any small hurdle made the tears come and I couldn’t face lots of people. Katie and Phil were brilliant, and happily day 8 was infinitely better.

The last 6 miles of day 8 were one of my high points, I was laughing so hard with Jim that it was even hard to run because I was creased up laughing. We had a few very special miles passing and repassing each other, mooning, Jim being tailed by the police and stopping at Phil’s disco then with Mum and Catherine for sausage and chips. It was a huge and fabulous surprise when Patrick turned up and ran with me for a couple of miles, I wasn’t really expecting to see him at all, and even nicer of him to give up part of his day with his mum on day 9 to run a mile with me then. I’m glad he got to run the Windy marathon, it helps you appreciate the real challenge of 10 marathons in 10 days on this course when you’ve run it once. 10 Londons or 10 Parises it ain’t..

The amount of time that people have given up to support the event has been massively humbling and touching, people have given up their own holiday, taken unpaid leave, volunteered their time, spent a fortune in petrol and on supplies, made extremely generous donations to Brathay and have all round been superb. It makes you feel like a true celebrity or professional when people are selflessly there to get YOU round the course and you have to always remember to thank them and be grateful. There is never any excuse to be a prima donna, no matter how far you’ve run or how injured you are. I couldn’t have got through this without my sister, my mum, the rest of my family and The Body Rehab team.

I have to mention the other runners. Jim Choo Choo Meta was a Scottish legend, always ready with a smile, a joke and a moon, he was my absolute favourite and I love him to bits. Chris “Harry” Heaton got faster and faster by the day, he may have looked greyer than his mate’s Uncle Albert lying in his coffin on more than one occasion but he got his pacing right and was never anything less than charming. Ray “Ol’ Blue Eyes” O’Connor was another legend, a fellow drinker right the way through and, while he trounced me over days 3-10, I managed to beat him the first few days, enough for him to nickname me his bitch. Aly from the Valley Knowles and Shell Atkins were indefatigable in battling through agonising injuries, the struggles they’ve gone through are incomprehensible. Dave “Horror” Wintle quietly went about his blinding time, was amazingly modest and the team cutie. Phil “The” Love demonstrated that even a psychiatric nurse who works on a self harm clinic can be mental enough to take on this challenge, and overcame the crushing disappointment of having to pull out on day 5 to set up Phil’s disco in Bowness with a tuck shop of everything imaginable. And he ran day 10 through terrible pain too. Hero. Dave “Foxy Davy” Bayley provided airplane finishes, Anna an incredibly strong race and huge world record and I’m very very happy for her, she’s totally earned it, Adam “Tango” Holland smashed his own record and I still can’t comprehend how he can run that fast and provide a gravity defying leap over the finish line, and Steve “Iceman” Edwards was the father and guru of the team, always there with advice and demonstrating how to get it done, again and again and again. He promises not to run it for the 5th time, for now…..

I have to list a few of my favourite memories or I’d be here for pages.

- Coming up with Naomi’s 10 day boot camp bikini body plan for abs and glutes of steel: Greggs’ cheese and onion pasties, jam butties, chocolate milkshakes, chips and curry, and 26 miles of tough hills on road a day. I’ve got muscles I’ve never seen before and, apart from the dodgy tan lines, have never been in better shape. I just need to put a few pounds on now..

- The stunning scenery on the route, the quieter stretches on the outward leg, the magic half way tree and the view opening out at 15.8 miles.

- The cutest lambs imaginable at 9 miles, the rabbits and deer I spotted once or twice, the sheep on day 9 at mile 8 that had so much branch and undergrowth stuck to it that it was disguised as a bush and all the birdsong providing the backing music. I was as far from London as I could imagine.

- Starting the mooning trend. I’d gone a bit hysterical on day 6 and decided this was a good way to pick up team morale. It certainly worked on Jim.

- Becoming entirely comfortable with who you are, and allowing everyone else to see you just as you are too. It’s human nature to put on certain faces to suit certain situations, you have to push down or promote different sides to you depending on where you are and who you’re with. In something this demanding, you can’t keep that up. It’s entirely you with no dressing up and you have to learn to be comfortable with it. Being on camera looking my absolute worst has dealt with any shred of vanity I may have had, bad hair days and being on your best behaviour are forgotten, it’s pure undiluted you. It’s healthy to accept yourself.

Would I do it again? I loved the event, loved the people running and supporting it and have had an unforgettable experience. It’s a massive commitment in terms of time off work, training and sponsorship and I think that if I went back I’d want to improve my time and that would create pressure that detracts from the enjoyment. So, for the time being, I’m saying no. I know I’ll be insanely jealous of the guys running it next year though!

Finally out of lycra... L-R: me, Adam, Jim, Ray, Aly and Dave at the front

10 in 10 Day 9 - 4'48

2010-05-15T16:05:00.000+01:00

Yesterday could have been a dead cat bounce (you know, even dead cats can bounce back a little bit) so I was very very happy to have another stronger day. The legs are definitely feeling heavy now and the aches are more noticeable but it's easier to push through them when the end is in sight. I wanted to take today very easy to leave some in the tank for tomorrow and that helped me get to my first negative split of the event. The support today was fantastic, loads of cars beeping and waving, and lots of people out on the route cheering us on. It feels like people are really aware of what's going on now and, especially as you get closer to the Brathay site and runners arehere to register for the Windy marathon tomorrow, it picks up to a whole new level.

Me and Chris feeling like celebrities at the start of Day 10

Short blog today, there's not much to report. I'm really really looking forward to tomorrow and seeing all my favourite bits of the route for the last time tomorrow.

10 in 10 DAy 8 - 5'08

2010-05-14T16:27:00.001+01:00

Today was a much better day although it was raining pretty hard in the first half and drizzly for much of the remainder. Finally got typical Lakes weather! I'd been very very wobbly last night and this morning, so drained that anyone being nice to me finished me off and made the tears start flowing. I wasn't upset or particularly down, just extremely fragile. Thinking about the marathon was too daunting until the moment the gun went. I took the first few miles very very steady hoping not to crash straight into the wall again, every mile I didn't was a bonus. I tried to eat more today, and actually felt really full by the finish after several biscuits, a round of jam butties, some cake from Phil and some sausage and chips that Mum and Catherine had picked up in Bowness. Going back to an ordinary diet may take some readjustment..

I had Jim in my sights for a short time before he disappeared but I caught him again at Newby Bridge so I had to give him a quick moon when I went by. He passed me again shortly afterwards but by the time I got to Bowness he'd reappeared. It was quite entertaining to moon him again right on the waterfront with all the tourists around, god only knows what they thought. The final 6 miles of today were great, a real high to reflect the real low from earlier this morning. We got to the top of the bump behind Bowness and Phil was there with music blazing out of his car and a tuck shop set up. It was brilliant to see him. Jim then mooned me and managed to end up with a police car tailing him for 100m, if he'd got arrested for indecent exposure I would have felt terrible since it was all my idea! A mile later, I saw Mum and Catherine who had arrived with sausage and chips, those chips tasted superb.. With all the extra food and good humour, the last few miles were feeling much easier than they have done, and it was lovely to have the company of Patrick for a few miles too.

A finish time of 5'08 was great given yesterday's crash and, now I'm out to enjoy it and stop to make the most of the many many moments that are making this the event of a lifetime, the time is totally secondary to getting round without writing myself off and in good shape for the finish. Hopefully that's all the wobbles out of the way..

Jim Meta and Chris Heaton at the finish on Day 10

10 in 10 Day 7 - 5'49

2010-05-13T17:35:00.001+01:00

Today was a very very tough day. It still felt like an incredibly long way to go this morning even though we'd already done 6 plus the cumulative tiredness had been building up and even though lights were out by 9pm I couldn't sleep at all. I was pretty knackered at the startline. After only 4 or so miles I'd hit the wall and was finding anything more than a walk hard going. By the time we got to the big hill at 7m, it was apparent that it was going to be an extremely long day and that I just didn't have the energy. I hadn't eaten enough yesterday after the race or for dinner, and was struggling to get any pace up. I walk/shuffled to where it gets properly hard just after 13 miles and thought that if I could get through the next 4 it would all seem more tolerable. Unfortunately, shortly after that it all got a bit blurry. I was so low on energy and so sleepy that my eyes were closing and I was finding it difficult to stay on the side of the road, I was weaving all over the place. Playing chicken with the traffic is never a good idea, if only because it probably adds a few hundred yards to your distance.

I saw Mac and two of the physios, Katie and Lucy at 16, and they gave me a bit of coffee. I thought it would do the trick but when I saw two other physios, Roxy and Paul shortly afterwards with a mat laid out I just had to get the opportunity to shut my eyes for a few minutes. They seemed more concerned than I was, I just wanted to sleep but they were very keen to get a lot of food and liquids down me and sort out my Achilles which has really been playing up today, it's very tight and creaky. I must have spent about 20 minutes there, drinking coffee, tea and water and eating jam sandwiches and jaffa cakes. This set the tone for the rest of the marathon, I had someone in the car right behind me to protect me from the traffic and at every stop they were force feeding me. This sounds worse than it was, I can't complain about being given endless jam sandwiches and even an ice cream in Bowness!

I managed to keep a shuffle going through to the finish, with a bit more energy and caffeine inside me and the physios right behind me at least I didn't have to provide my own motivation. Having given up all thoughts of the finish time, I was pleased to have got round sub 6 in 5'49. Tomorrow's another day.

Race start, a mix of race officials, physios, supporters and a few runners. L-R: Shell Atkins, Dave Wintle, Steve Edwards (back to camera), Aly Knowles, Jim Meta, Chris Heaton (back to camera)

10 in 10 Day 6 - 4'34

2010-05-12T16:55:00.001+01:00

Cue Geordie accent: Day 6 in the Big Brathay House, the sun is shining and the TiTs are hobbling. Well, not quite, we're all holding up surprisingly well, though we were very very sad to see Phil pull out today. After an epic struggle home yesterday with horrible shin splints, he took perhaps the bravest decision to call it a day. And he was man enough to be out on the route cheering us on.

I had a bit of a hysterical patch today and decided mooning was the way to maintain team morale. With apologies to Chris, Allan, Dave A and the cameraman, and the physios and video man, I guess we'll find out if it makes the uncut video footage....... Sorry Mum, consecutive marathons does strange things to your brain.
It was good to get well over the half way point today and the first 14 miles went by pretty quickly, having Allan around to run with and Joe and his mum on bikes occasionally was a top motivator. I'm getting pretty tired now and more and more sore, I can now add my left knee to the list of niggles. The physios are working wonders and Graham even persuaded me to go in the ice bath today (I traded in being let off the ice bath for a large wodge of cake yesterday) so hopefully with lots of attention they won't get too painful. I was wondering out on the course today just how it's possible to run so many miles, I've only been walking the stiffer uphills. I think you have to get to the point where you can run at a very low rate of exertion, and get into a stride rate that almost feels more comfortable than walking. Then don't let yourself walk. For me, it's the thought of being out there for double the time if you start walking that keeps me moving, my running pace has definitely dropped off but at least I'm keeping some heat going and covering the distance a bit quicker.
Things are being set up for Sunday's Windermere marathon now and the atmosphere is building. It's still a long way to go for us TiTs before we get there, but it finally feels like we're going to get to the finish line.

The wonderful physios: L-R Graham Theobald, director of The Body Rehab, Sue, Paul, Roxy, Lucy, Jim (10 in 10 runner), Katie, Nicola, Stevo, Maria)

10 in 10 Day 5 - 4'26

2010-05-11T15:41:00.000+01:00

Today was a much better day, I felt pretty wiped out yesterday and today energy levels were much better, something to do with the food intake, a bit extra sleep and being a lot more relaxed about times perhaps. We were treated to dinner at the Three Shires in the Langdales yesterday and I was lucky enough to be on the drinkers' table with Ray, Foxy, Jim and ooh arr Dave. We had a great laugh over a few pints of Coniston Old Man and it was a good opportunity to get to know each other a bit better.

Support today was fantastic, and helped me enjoy my favourite marathon of the 5 to date. I gave my sister a big hug at 10 miles to share a bit of the good feeling I was enjoying, she's getting me through the bad times so deserves to know about the good ones too. It was brilliant to see Mum and Brian my Wicked Stepfather (we wouldn't call him WSF if he weren't anything other than a sterling bloke) too and my dad was there too. He's been an angel and has cooked me a giant curry for this evening, I can't wait for dinner time! The icing on the cake was seeing Allan turn up just after half way. He's driven all the way from the other side of London to support us, just amazing. It's incredibly humbling to have all these people behind you.

The race itself wasn't too bad today, I walked more of the hills but had more energy to keep a steady pace through the gentler uphills, flats and downs. I came in about 50 seconds quicker than yesterday which is very pleasing and am delighted to report there are no serious injuries (yet), other than a bad toenail, a few aches and pains and a few things the miraculous physios are preventing from getting remotely serious, I'm holding up remarkably well.

Half way now and I'm feeling good about the next five. What a course to run them on, I can't wait for everyone else to get here on Sunday and experience it with us.

Before the start on Day 10: Adam (back to the camera), L-R Ray, David Bayley, Dave Wintle, me, Steve Edwards

10 in 10 Day 4 - 4'26

2010-05-10T17:03:00.000+01:00

Today was a new day and a new week, so I was treating it like Day 1. It's easier to handle the concept of the whole 10 days if you simply don't think about it. Since it's a bit too late to get any more preparation in, the most I can do is put off thinking about the marathon until the moment the gun goes. Then, during the race itself, to think only of that race. Thoughts of having to do it again 6 more times, having already done it 3 times, would just be too much to cope with. One mile at a time and enjoy the scenery, as someone once told me.

Luckily there are a dozen or more ways to divide this race up: my usual 10 + 10 + 6, 5 to Hawkshead, 2 to the monster hill, 3 to a gel, 4 to seeing my family, 3 more to the end of the killer switchback section, 3 more to another gel, 5 to Ambleside and the last 1.2. That stretch from half way to 17 miles is an absolute monster, and really got to me today in mile 16. I must have crashed straight into the wall, an incline that is nowhere near the most severe brought me virtually to a standstill, and my heart and breathing rates went right through the roof. It was the worst wobble so far, but the thought of Catherine and Mum less than 1/2 a mile ahead with a cup of tea and a warm hug got me through it. Catherine also donated her dog walking gloves, I'd been incredibly cold today (think the depleted reserves means all the energy is used for running rather than generating heat) so they were most welcome.

There was a notable milestone today, we passed the 100 mile mark at the top of the "speed bump" at Miller Howe at 21 miles, where I celebrated with a swig of beer. My approach to nutrition is becoming more and more low tech. Having had a wobble yesterday with regards to food, I'm feeling better about it. I had a great dinner yesterday with lots of deep fried starters, curries full of coconut milk and mountains of rice, and a glass of red, and felt properly full. Today I managed one of my 2 gels, but otherwise had water, beer, whatever was in a bottle close to hand and half a jam sandwich. And when I crossed the line, my family had supplied me with two cheese and onion pasties from Greggs that I washed down with a chocolate milkshake. Poor Robin from Team Nutrition would be tearing his hair out if he knew (oh, he does now). Electrolyte drinks, carb loading drinks, sports gels, dried fruit bars, Trek bars (I've just had a discussion about these, we don't know what's in them but they're meant to be good for you), vegetables, bananas etc etc. No thanks, there's not much of me and cheese and onion pasties work for me. You can take the girl out of the north........

Dibbing to record my time at the finish, and sporting pink kinesio tape on my knee

10 in 10 Day 3 - 4'22

2010-05-09T15:23:00.001+01:00

After pushing hard on Day 1 and racing 16 miles of yesterday, I was knackered going into today. Anna and I had a good chat yesterday and cleared the air so my intention was to just run how I felt and hopefully by myself, I'm getting really really claustrophobic among 11 other runners and needed 4 hours with noone else around. If she ended up with me again, I'd just stop to retie my shoes. Luckily, Anna shot off ahead and I settled into a pace that was comfortable but a lot slower than yesterday, about 9'30 for the first few miles. At that rate, sub 4 was never going to happen.

Within a few miles, I recognised that the world record is going to be Anna's and deservedly so, she's strong, has the endurance of a shire horse and has been getting very speedy lately. I've readjusted my aims ranked by how achievable they are: a. the finish, b. sub 45 hours, c. sub 41 hours (we can both break the world record, she'll just do it by more than me), d. sub 40 hours. At the moment I think only a. and b. are possible. I found a fairly comfortable and sustainable pace today and finished in 4'19. If I'm lucky, I've recovered a bit of energy today having run more conservatively.

As expected, I'm finding it very hard to get enough calories down me. The food here is great, top quality and very healthy, but I'm craving fat - pizza, melted cheese, rich curries with loads of rice. It's also hard to cope with self service - I'm fine if someone gives me a plate of food to eat, but trying to balance enough food for the event, what I think is socially acceptable, what really is socially acceptable and what I actually want to eat is proving just too difficult. I find it easier to eat more frequently, but when the third person in a row said "still eating?" this morning 30 minutes before the race, it was a bit too much.

Positives from today: I enjoyed the race a lot more than days 1 or 2, it was nice to be able to look around me and appreciate the views and all the support rather than worrying about times and race positions. Great to see so many people out there, and if you wondered whether it really was warm enough for the crop top, it wasn't, the vext I'd worn dozens of times before had started to chafe so it had to come off. Well, at least it got a few more cheers from passing cars.

A well earned beer after Day 2

10 in 10 Day 2 - 3'55

2010-05-08T17:02:00.001+01:00

Day 2 of the TiT, 3'55, two minutes up on yesterday but it felt like a race to 16 miles of it as I had Anna right on my heels before she dropped me. I find it really stressful having someone breathing down my neck and asked her a few times if she was going for a time or if she was going for the win, but she said no, 4'07 would do to average 4 hours and she was out for the personal achievement, not the win. I think though anyone would be crazy not to go for the win if they were strong enough, so perhaps it's psychology. Or perhaps she was just having another very good day. Either way, I have to revise my game plan. I think I can still break the 41 hours, and I'd still like to break 40 hours. If Anna breaks it by more than me then that's the way it is. Today though was hard as I was pushing it for the first 16 to see if I could drop her. I was absolutely knackered in the last 10 miles so hopefully I can be a bit more even paced tomorrow.

Today's highlight was the laser therapy treatment. The physio team here are so dedicated to getting you through this event that when I mentioned a touch of pain under my left heel and wondered if they'd have a look at it during my massage, they got me straight into "triage", ice massaged it for the vaso-constriction, then decided to laser it for vaso-dilation. When they proposed lasering my foot, I imagined a Blofeld style amputation, surely it wasn't that bad. It's very clever - the ice contracts all the blood vessels, stops all the internal bleeding and cools everything down. However, you need blood flow to encourage healing, though you don't want to heat the area, hence the laser that opens up the blood vessels without heat. Plus you get to wear cool glasses. This place is super high tech, we feel very pampered.

The very very positive side of today was my sister, mum and other members of my family who've come up to support me. They're just superb, they've got balloons and pom poms and Team Naomi t-shirts, even my sister's dog was wearing a Team Naomi t-shirt with Support Crew on the front, and are always there with a hug and encouraging words. And my sister has surpassed herself. She made up a scrapbook with my blog all printed out with all the best photos, and a great Eddie Izzard cartoon at the back. It's going to be a great way to pick me up in the bad times. She's given me a pack of cards, one to open each evening before the next race, which have brought a tear to my eye every time. And when I come over the finish line, she presents me with a rosette with Team Naomi and the number of the race on it, 1 for yesterday, 2 for tomorrow. We don't get medals every day so she wanted me to have something. I want a full suite. So today's for Catherine. Love ya big sis!!

Me and Catherine at the finish

10 in 10 - Day 1

2010-05-07T16:08:00.000+01:00

I was really excited to get going this morning but didn't really get the chance to think about the race until a few minutes before 10.15am. It was hectic getting a superb, though lengthy, massage in, then dribbling through a straw for 5 minutes to produce a saliva sample, filling in a questionnaire, being stuck with a needle for a blood donation (some of which dripped on the questionnaire, guess they've got a DNA sample too) and being briefed on other research stuff we have to do. I managed to grab breakfast, reply to the dozens of good luck texts (thank you!), sort my kit out and get down to the start where our official vests turned up 15 minutes before the gun went. We had a fake start on the lawn in front of Brathay under the banner which was great, though I'd forgotten my timing device and had to leg it back indoors. It looked a bit like I was doing a runner..

The race started off fine, I was feeling great and full of energy and it was brilliant to see the route again in good weather. Sunny intervals today and a bit gusty, and no rain, hoorah! Anna was running with me for a lot of today, I was leading to about 14 when I stopped for a cup of tea, then I let her do the pacing for a few miles after that before she dropped me. I'd been hit by Sudden Onset Horrible Back Pain (that's a technical term), my period certainly knows how to make an appearance at the worst possible moment. This made the second half really really unpleasant, and I had to kick myself to keep the pace going. And I'd forgotten how hilly it is, much hillier than Connemara, I take all that back. I finished in 3'57 and I'm hoping today is one of the inevitable bad days.

Highlight of today: the professional ice bath, cooled to 6 degrees. Pro footballers can only last 3 minutes, I managed a minute before it felt like my feet were being gnawed off my a thousand tiny piranhas. Excruciating.

Front runners L-R: Ray O'Connor, Steve Edwards, Dave Wintle, Adam Holland

London marathon - number 60

2010-04-26T19:26:00.000+01:00

It is neither big nor clever to run a marathon on a hangover. This is important. Marathons are a bloody long way and whether you've run 1 or 100, they can still bite you on the arse. Must have more respect. Still, I ran an easy 3'36 yesterday so I guess I got away with that one.

I was lucky enough to be at the green start, with "only" a few thousand runners. What this lacked in atmosphere, it made up for with ease of facilities, somewhere to hide from the mercifully brief downpour, and seconds to get over the startline. The celebrities were being paraded around in their paddock, a bit like animals in a zoo. "Ooh look Beryl, do you know what that one is?" "That's a lesser spotted Branson, Mavis." I didn't recognise any of them. It was great to bump into Aly from the 10 in 10, Mel, Sarah I ran some of Abo with, another Fetchie Sarah in her gingerbread man outfit and some other 100ers, it actually felt like quite a small race until a mile or so down the road when we merged with the blue start.

I wasn't bothered about times today as I knew it was going to be crowded, so was very relaxed about being held up, it was only meant to be a comfortable run and a 3'45. I wasn't paying much attention to my garmin, so was pleased to get through half way in 1'46, quicker than intended but it felt easy. The atmosphere was incredible, I used to hate all that cheering and screaming as it's a bit deafening and distracting, but if you're out for a good day then it's much easier to appreciate it. Some of the bands and PA systems belting out music were pretty special too, lots of spine tingling moments, you felt like you were part of something very precious. There was a huge bunch of supporting Fetchies at 13 at a self styled Fetchpoint which was simply superb, it was a tighter, slower patch along there, but I made sure I did a whole lot of whooping and arms in the air, didn't want them to miss me after all. Then it was an easy cruise through the next 9 miles until I got back to them, catching up with Dave and giving him some good-natured abuse, spotting some stray Fetchies on the Isle of Dogs, loving the drummers at Canary Wharf and really appreciating the brief spell of calm at 20/21m.

Legal highs.....

It was just brilliant to see Fetchpoint again, and I had to stop to give Frances a hug. Given they had given up their entire day to support us, the least I could do was stop to appreciate it. The cheers were great. Then it was only a couple of miles before I saw Mark at 24.5 and stopped for another hug. I dropped about a minute arsing about saying hello which cost me a PB but that was entirely fine, there's plenty of time for PBs and it's not often you see so many great mates during a marathon. By the time I'd finished looking out for Fetchies, there was only 1 1/2 miles left which is kind of when my race started, I hadn't been thinking about anything other than Fetchpoint until then!

I looked at my watch as I ran under a mile marker and it told me that if I put my foot down I'd squeak another PB. Then I saw Sarah again and yelled "come with me!" as I caught her, whoo, we were going to blat the last 1.2 miles! Then I passed the 25 mile marker. Oops, the one I thought was 25 miles was 40k. I wasn't going to get a PB so I'd started an entirely pointless kick rather early but now, having displayed such exuberance, I had to keep it going or I'd look like a right wally. That kick did end up with me coming in only 33 seconds slower than Brighton last weekend so it was still a very very nice result, plus by 6pm my legs would have been more than happy to run another one. If it weren't for all the booze that is, there must have been 30 or 40 of us piled in the pub and it was fantastic to celebrate so many great performances. Seeing everyone in there reminded me why running is such a leveller, you get people of all ages, from dentists to train drivers, from 2'40 racing snakes to 6 hour true endurance runners, all improving themselves, discovering unrealised levels of grit, motivation and strength, and all achieving the same shiny medal. Fabulous.

After you've run a marathon and necked several pints, a favourite parlour game is Punch My Abs. Don't try this at home, boys and girls..........

Brighton marathon

2010-04-20T19:51:00.000+01:00

I wasn't best prepared for this marathon, after a skinful of wine on Friday night at the Fetchie social, and a hangover only conquered by another bottle of wine on Saturday, plus nowhere near enough sleep, I was only fit for a comfortably paced run. My brain was so pickled that even though I'd taken my garmin and charger out of my bag, I'd forgotten to plug it in, so I was entirely watchless. That made it a good opportunity to see what time my comfortable pace gets me to, I had wanted to run 3'45 but this way it would just be entirely what my legs and hangover(s) dictated.

The organisers had made Brighton a superb inaugural event, apart from a delayed race start, it all went off without a hitch. The only things I would have liked to have seen were a clock at the startline and at the half way point so the forgetful and watchless had some idea of their time. It did make it quite relaxing though, you can't fret about splits or average pace or PBs or anything. There were lots of humorous touches: before we'd even hit one mile, we ran under a banner saying "highest point on the course", and there were plenty more saying things like "runners know beer tastes better when sweaty" to raise a smile. I particularly liked the gantry they'd erected at 20 miles that looked like a solid wall of bricks with a few holes in it, covered in "hit the wall" graffiti, though it may have just finished a few runners off..... And the 21 mile marker was funny, stuck on the most enormous crane I've ever seen, never run under a crane before. The DJ just after it was very encouraging too, and perfectly positioned at the hardest point of the course, if you're having a bad race, it was just at the point when you start to wonder if it will ever end.

The route was great, with lots of out and back sections where you could spot your mates coming the other way. It was a bit like a reunion, shouting at Fetchies and 100 clubbers. This was the first time in ages that I'd done such a well supported event and I'd entirely forgotten how uplifting it is. I had a Fetch top on and there were loads of shouts of "Go Fetchie!" which was great, but what really surprised me were the number of people who knew my name. I discovered later that a couple of them were Fetchies whom I couldn't pick out among the crowds but it was a bit funny, like being a celebrity! All the shouts really made my day, I was grinning through so much of the race. The bunch of triathletes on the seafront were a notable highlight, as I went past, one yelled "looking good!". His mate yelled "looking VERY good!" and then another of them bellowed "MARRY ME!" as I'd gone past, not sure which of them it was but if I hadn't been running so strong I may have gone back to see if he meant it...

Cruising past the spectators

It was a beautiful day to run a marathon, lovely spring sunshine and not too hot, and happily very little wind for being on the seafront. I ran alongside a few people in places, a rather good-looking bloke in a black t-shirt running his first who I had a nice chat to and was still strong at 19ish, and a very tall, also rather dishy rugby player, also running his first, who was looking great. Good hunky runner count today.. I lost him at 17ish so I hope he had a good race. I'm still amazed at anyone running their first in sub 4 hours, my first was 5'10.. The last couple of miles were extraordinary, the field had really thinned out so I was by myself for quite a bit and running down a gauntlet of tightly packed, yelling, cheering hordes made me feel like the winner, it was massively uplifting.

In spite of a few inclines in the first half, this was a really fast course and a lot of people posted some very nippy times. Running comfortably, I had no idea what my time was. I thought it had taken me about 60-90 seconds to cross the start line, and I crossed the finish line in 3'37'30, so I knew it was a PB, just not exactly what it was, 3'36 most likely. Anna's OH looked up the results on his iphone and discovered my time was 3'34'09, which seemed very toppy but I'd take an official time. However, turns out it was 3'36'13, which is superb, about 90 seconds off my PB without trying hard and having no idea of pace. It would seem that my natural pace is a bit quicker than I thought, and that I'd probably been holding back a bit lately. Nice 1'47'30 and 1'48'43 splits too, good even pacing with no garmin, and I can in as 47th of 2,497 female finishers, top 2%!!

It was the perfect finish to a marathon afterwards - I managed to change into non-sweaty clothes in a reasonably discreet spot, though my lack of planning meant this was an LBD (the barmaid wouldn't believe I'd run the mara until I pointed out the salt on my face), discovered a job lot of usable lotions and potions in the goody bag to accompany a cracking medal, caught up with lots of people and wrestled through the crowds to the pub. It was as packed as Linford Christie's knickers by now. A few pints on the beach with Fetchies and 100 clubbers to celebrate lots of great times and Anna's 100th marathon, and her huge PB, and a great day in the sunshine, a top Sunday all round.

Closing straight, full on grimace and is that a hint of abs??

And it's now about 2 1/2 weeks to go until the 10 in 10 starts. I'm really looking forward to having a good crack at the world record now, so please sponsor me to add a bit more encouragement. Gadget link thingy at the top of the page. Thank you!

Connemara Double Marathon - Day 2

2010-04-13T20:30:00.000+01:00

On Sunday morning, I felt good - the legs were fine, energy levels were good and I'd slept reasonably well so, apart from a dicky stomach, everything looked favourable. The weather gods were smiling on us too, with bright clear sunshine, and the wind had dropped - hurrah! We were bussed up to the start to sit around for about 90 minutes, this was my only gripe about the weekend as there was nowhere for a cup of tea or any shelter, so thank heavens it wasn't cold or raining. The start was even more stunning than yesterday with the lake like a mirror reflecting the mountains.

A couple of pretty nippy ultra runners went past before we started, having run their extra 13.1 miles in 90 minutes. Allan was in the ultra too, and Michael and I were fractionally concerned about his threat to slap us on the arse as he passed us, he claimed he was going to run the first 13 in 1'40 leaving him only 10 minutes down. That was enough to make it seem like he was breathing down our necks and acted as a compelling motivator, we knew we would never live it down if we got dropped..

My targets were as follows: 4'08 = a tolerable average of 4 hours / day, 4 hours = nothing more than ok, 3'52 = equal to yesterday and a good result, any better than 3'52 = excellent, but theoretically the correct result as conditions were better and, at this stage, I shouldn't be slowing down on day 2.

So I started confidently, making the most of the easier first 6 miles and going through the first half in 1'49, 1 minute up on yesterday. The second half was where I could get the time back on yesterday since 1'50 is my standard first half pace. Yesterday I dropped 12 minutes up the hills and into the wind and on a still day I should be able to claw a bit of that back.

There were some real boosts in this race - a cyclist who passed me shouting "Yeah baby!" in proper Austin Powers fashion, another cyclist who recognised me from Runner's World, the look on runners' faces when you were have a bit of a chat, they asked if you'd run this one before and you replied "yesterday". And by the time we got to half way, the 1/2 mara runners had set off 19 minutes before so there was opportunity to catch some of them. It turned out there were hundreds of walkers to pass, and a lot of runners by the end. It's not very charitable but it picks you up to be moving quicker than the people around you.

I made a point again today of running all of it, particularly the hills, as walking sends your time plummeting. Without the headwind, it was much easier, and it was possible to run strongly off the top of the hills today rather than yesterday where even when the incline had eased off it still felt like you were running through a wall. It was much easier to maintain my pace, I'm feeling very strong at the moment. However, before the last hill at 23 miles, I didn't have much idea of my finish time, it could have easily finished me off.

The last hill was hard work, it went on for over a mile and was a long old drag. Good strength training though! When I got to the top, I knew I'd better yesterday's time if I kept concentrating - my attention was wandering a bit and the pace begining to drift off. A mental slap round the face sorted that out, plus the reminder that if Allan passed me, he was going to slap me very hard on the arse and give me a serious amount of abuse. He was NOT going to pass me in the last few miles. It was less than 20 minutes to go and, in one of my favourite sayings, any %^&* can run 2 miles. A few minutes out from the finish, I realised a sub 3'45 was on, so I pushed it a bit to cross the line in 3'44'34, an absolutely astounding result. On a tough course and on day 2, with people flaking out from the heat all over the place, I'd knocked 8 minutes off and had a blinder of a run, and finished feeling really strong. I was delighted.

I then received a text saying "Connemarathon prize winner. Please go to the finish area to collect your prize." Cool! A marshall said, "Oh yes, you're second or third lady, I'll go and get a camera and your crystal." Brill! Then she came back and said, "Sorry, I got it wrong. You were 3rd in your age category and there's no prize." Oh well! Still a great result, and I was 10th lady overall (of 120).

Very very happy with 100 miles in 6 days, averaging 8'36 / mile, with 2 very solid back to back marathons and a pair of surprisingly fresh legs. Two more good weeks of training, Brighton and London maras and then taper. I'm really looking forward to the 10 in 10 now!

As you may be aware, I'm raising funds for the Brathay Trust who put on both the 10 in 10 and the Windermere marathon in May. It's their biggest fund raising event of the year, so please help me make a good contribution to a very worthy cause. Link up top. Thank you!

How about this for a race start?!

Connemara invitational - Marathon Double Day 1

2010-04-12T19:30:00.000+01:00

This week was the closest approximation to the 10 in 10 so I was hoping for a peak in my mileage and a couple of solid back-to-back marathons. I missed Easter Monday's opportunity for any miles, being laid low with crippling period pains (at least the timing means it'll be well out of the way for the TiT) but was on for 100 miles in 6 days. It's important psychologically: if I can manage this alongside work at a good pace and not be too knackered or sore, it would really boost my confidence.

The weather's been great, so I ran 10 miles outside on both Tuesday and Wednesday mornings at 8'57 minutes per mile and 8'51 pace, topping Tuesday off with a brisker 5 miles at 8'00s in the gym. Thursday was a tough day - 10 miles of speed/endurance intervals in the morning then 5 miles at 8'00s in the evening again. The intervals have really helped me to maintain pace over a longer period and I'm sure have contributed to my recent stronger marathons. It's 9 x 1 mile at 7'30, then 45 seconds recovery at 8'30 pace, deliberately little recovery to make it tougher. It's a beasting (and probably not recommended by coaches) but it works for me and I love the sessions. Friday was a bit of a trudge after 2 hours of hard work so was a steady 8 miler at 9'30s.

Saturday was the Invitational Connemara marathon. It's a good thing I'm so relaxed about these things now as I knew next to nothing about the race other than "it's definitely on". Luckily, Allan, Jim and John were staying at the same B&B so they gathered me up for breakfast at MacDonald's before heading down to race HQ at the Marriott. It was a small but fabulous group of runners in the Invitational (you get a place by knowing the race director, or knowing someone who does, Jim sorted us out):

Allan Rumbles - one of my best marathon mates, ran his 100th at Zurich on New Year's Eve, recently ran the 80 mile Oner over insane terrain in 21 hours
Jim "Manic" Mundy - a former TiT, ran his 100th in a dress, sorry, Hermes outfit, now on c.225 maras
John Dawson - another former TiT, running strong at 72 years old, tremendously inspiring and on his 350th mara
Michael Grehan - another 100 club runner, a total rock in my hideous Beachy/Greensands/Dublin triple and one of the loveliest men you'll ever meet
Steve Edwards - 3 x TiT, full of wisdom and advice and accompanied by the fabulous Teresa, and running his 499th and 500th marathon this weekend, all sub 4 and most sub 3'30, a real legend
Larry whom I hadn't met before but arrived having milked his cows, then had to rush off afterwards to milk them again, two other TiTs Mark and George, Fetchie Graeme who went on to run a great time in the ultra, me and a couple of other guys. 12 in total, only one girl. I was going to be first lady, and last lady, depending on your point of view.

L-R: John, Larry, Graeme, ?, ?, me, Allan, Manic, Steve, Michael, Mark, Teresa (Steve's fabulous OH) as en route support, George

The aim was sub 4 for each day and I anticipated the course to be similarly difficult to Windy. As it turned out, the second half was tougher and the wind today made it a monster. The first 6 miles were opportunity to bank some time so I was running at about 8 mm for this bit. What I didn't anticipate was quite how stunning it would be. I can't do the scenery justice, mountains and glacier lakes and wide open blue skies with hardly a cloud to be seen. Incredible. And to be warm enough to merit shorts and crop top, in April, in Ireland, is just a blessing! Within 2 miles I was by myself; Steve and George were leading, followed by Mark, then Allan, Graeme and Michael in the following pack. You needed a fair bit of resilience and experience to run 24 miles of that marathon entirely by yourself, it gets quite lonely out there, but it was a good test of my resolve.

Steve and George on the lonely but stunning route

The headwind was a beast today, most of the second half was into the face of it and it was like trying to run through a wall, terrifically hard work. When it dropped, the stillness and quiet was sublime, and I was coasting along loving the views. It feels like I run with my abs and lower back now, having worked on that area for a while, it feels so much easier to keep strong and controlled there and let the legs use momentum. I get no pain in my legs now after a single marathon, a bit of tiredness, sure, but no soreness. Something's working.

I went through the half way point in 1'50, plenty of time in hand in case of disasters. Turned out I needed it, at 13.5 miles, we hit the first serious hill, it went on and on and was into the teeth of the wind. I was NOT going to walk the hills today and was proud I didn't, but it required a bit of yelling at myself after a while. This wind, sorry to keep going on about it, was deafening and very testing and just relentless. But the scenery, two support cars, random cars waving and slowing down for a few encouraging words, and the cute lambs all helped put a positive spin on things.

I passed Mark suffering with his glutes (a sore arse in any other words), and George who'd gone out a bit too hard and was happy that noone caught me. After a long and arduous drag up from 23 miles to the top of the pass, the last 2 miles were blissfully downhill and flat into the valley with a chance to really drink in the view. I finished in 3 hours 52 minutes, very very happy given how tough I found the conditions. I'll think about tomorrow tomorrow!

Bletchley Enigma marathon - a very dull race report

2010-04-03T21:12:00.000+01:00

We ran around a lake, and then into a headwind down a canal. At 14 miles, we turned around and ran back. It rained in the last half hour. I was exceptionally bored. The good thing about boredom is it encourages you to put more effort into your running to get it over with sooner, but god only knows how GUCR runners can tolerate 150+ miles of canal. At least it's dark for several hours overnight I guess.

This has to be my most accurately run race, advertised at 26.88 miles and clocked on my Garmin at 26.88 miles, and my finish time of 4'11 wasn't brilliant but is nothing to complain about. Well done to my mate Dave Bayley, a fellow 10 in 10 runner, for making his first marathon go so smoothly, his marshals were particularly stalwart. Starting and finishing the race by the pub was a great move, it was lovely to see so many Fetchies and 100 Marathon Clubbers, and thanks to Amanda for chatting at me for much of the first half, sorry you didn't get much back!

10 in 10 training is entirely responsible for causing me to run marathons so dull I almost fall asleep and fall into the canal. It's not all chocolate boxes and roses (who said that?), so please reward my dedication/stupidity with a small donation to Brathay. Link up top. Thank you!

30 Under 30 Square Mile Talent Awards

2010-03-31T18:24:00.000+01:00

A few weeks ago, I had a phonecall from the Square Mile group who publish a glossy lifestyle magazine in the City. Someone had anonymously nominated me for their inaugural Square Mile 30 Under 30 Talent Awards, recognising achievement among young professionals working in the City of London. I was up for the Sport category due to my marathon running and 10 in 10 attempt and had been shortlisted to the final 30. As a result, they invited me to the awards do at the Park Lane Hilton along with a few mates for invaluable drinking support. It was a very very lovely surprise to be nominated and, no matter the result, I was looking forward to a proper posh knees up.

They asked me to submit answers to several questions about my work life in the City and my running life building up to the 10 in 10, and also for 2 references which were gratefully received from Scott at the Brathay Trust and my mentor at the bank where I work and referred to the transferable stuff from my training that I could bring to my job: dedication, motivation, a large bag of sweaty running kit etc. Then it was just a matter of persuading 3 of my top running and drinking buddies, Mark, Dave and Frances, that they wanted to spend a Friday afternoon necking free champagne in smart outfits.

The awards day itself was brilliant, from the first gin & tonic, through guinness, champagne, Johnny Walker blue label whisky, wine, beer and to the last drop of vodka, it was full of fun and laughter and much misbehaviour. My mates were brilliant company and certainly helped me underline that endurance affleets can handle endurance boozing sessions too. And the icing on the cake was winning the 30 under 30 award. It was a fabulous surprise and rounded off a perfect day.

Maraton di Roma

2010-03-23T19:27:00.000Z

Rome was a highlight in my marathon calendar this spring. Having studied Latin for 13 years at school and university, I've only managed a few days in Rome so this was a superb opportunity to do some sight seeing at speed. The start was right underneath the Colisseum by the Imperial Forum which brought back so many memories of the ancient texts I've read and archaeology I've studied. It was incredibly atmospheric and, being Italian and a fairly big race at 11k runners, properly excitable.

I'd been allocated Pen B which was mildly intimidating as my aims were sub 4 for a reasonable run, 3'50 for a good one and 3'40 for a great one. The first few miles were really packed and jostly with all that excess energy being used to dodge around people. For the first of many many times in this race I told myself to relax, there was plenty of time to pick it up. Hence I started out slower than target pace, all the better to soak up the views.

The weather was pretty nice for racing - warm but overcast, winter feels a long time ago on days like this. The route was flat with only a couple of short inclines and fairly fast, if you didn't mind running on cobbles. They were fairly smooth but you had to be careful, especially given my recent wipe outs on training runs and compulsion to run craning my neck at all the sights. I went through the first 5k in 26'28, the next in 26'05, then 26'01, 26'12, 26'12, 26'02, 26'21, 26'31 and the last 2.2k at exactly the same pace, a steady 8'19 minutes per mile. I was consciously holding back all the way through the race as I just wanted a strong finish without beasting myself and pacing felt so easy, like I had a metronome in my legs.

While I didn't feel tired, it helped that for several k I was chatting to a Sicilian guy and practising my Italian (and he his English), then to a Cambridge Harrier. Distractions are always nice, especially when they come in the form of talking to handsome Italians, running through the Vatican and being proposed to by a spectator! The last few k take you back through the centre of Rome, past Trajan's Column, through the Piazza Navona, around the Circo Massimo to finish back under the Colisseum. It's got to be the most beautiful city marathon I've done.

Perfect splits of 1'50 and 1'51 gave me a finish time of 3'41, even with the extra 600m my garmin clocked (I usually get a bit extra but not that much. Irrelevant of course, it's a measured route). That placed me in the top quarter of the overall field, having passed 1,200 runners in the second half, and 141st of 1,900 women. Top 10% of women is rather a nice result!

I'm training to run 10 marathons in 10 days in aid of the Brathay Trust. If you think this is bonkers enough to deserve a small donation, click on the gadget jobber to the right of the page. Thank you!

2 Grantham Canal 29 milers and 1 win!

2010-03-08T19:20:00.000Z

Two 29 milers along the Grantham Canal were intended to be pure training runs; I find it very hard to motivate myself to do LSRs by myself now and needed to get a good double in. Running alongside 100 other people, somewhere new and with checkpoints to break up the distance and to provide water and food makes it much easier on the brain. That didn't make the prospect of running east along a canal for 5 hours, then for another 5hours in reverse the next day, any more exciting. I was falling asleep with boredom even before we got going.

There was a good TiT showing - me, Anna, Heather, Adam and Jim - and it was good to talk training and fundraising etc. There were also a lot of people training for Marathon des Sables, I'm so glad I don't have to carry a pack. In fact, it's a difficult call which is harder. On the one hand, we have considerably more distance, the monotony of the same route every day for 10 days, and a single hard surface. On the other, they get searing heat in the day, freezing temperatures at night, sand and terrible terrain shredding their feet, carry all their own food, have no access to a comfy bed, hot shower or clean clothes. I know which I'd rather do!

The route was dull but started off with 1.5 miles on road before hitting tightly packed sandy towpath. Somehow, I was in first lady position, a happy and entirely fortuitous coincidence with my strategy to run comfortably throughout, and to run as much as possible. By 10 miles, I was in 3rd, my mate Audrey and a red haired girl had gone ahead. I caught Red Hair after a while and lost her at CP3 at 14.5 miles. Then it got unpleasant. It was on grass. Nice, smooth, fairly dry grass, but I'm hopeless off road. I lost about 90 seconds per mile along the 10 or so miles of this in the 2nd half, but managed to keep moving. But, blinkin' 'eck, it was boring. No rhythm, flat fields, canal and lots of swans the only scenery, it went on forever. At least it encouraged me to keep running to get it over with.

By CP4 at 21 miles, I caught Audrey and we agreed to run together, but she dropped back for a walk break at 22. I was in first again. Blimey! That was proper motivation, as long as I was running I was maintaining the gap. Luckily we hit gravel again at about 24 which made things a whole lot easier. With no discomfort anywhere, no serious tiredness and a level of exertion so manageable it caused one bloke to ask me why I wasn't breathing hard, the last few miles passed quickly. I reached the finish in 4 hours 37 very very surprised and pleased, running through a tape completely made my day, and a very shiny trophy was a fab prize. I've never been 1st lady before, and certainly didn't think it possible in an off-road (admittedly off-road-lite) race.

I decided to take Day 2 easier, running comfortably but stopping for longer at CPs if I wanted to. Jen Salter had turned up anyway, looking for sub 4, so the pressure was off. I had my trophy from Day 1. Plus, with the grass coming earlier on at about 5 miles, I hadn't had time to build up more of a time cushion as I had on Day 1. Those 6 miles between CPs 1 and 2 were so unappealing that I decided to use my ipod for the first time in a race in ages and listen to an Italian language lesson that lasted exactly an hour with the aim to get to the next CP before it finished. It worked, though arriving saying "Dove posso comprare i franco bolli qui vicino?" raised the marshal's eyebrow.

After a good 7 minutes standing around drinking tea, it was back onto gravelly, sandy track, wetter and stickier than yesterday after the frost had melted, but still much more tolerable than grass. Time to see how obedient the legs would be. Luckily, there was no pain anywhere or even much tiredness so the 14 miles were pretty consistently paced, and I even managed to run the hill in the final mile back to the finish to have run the whole 58 miles. Day 2 done in 5 hours 1 minute gave me a combined time of 9 hours 39, enough for joint second overall with Audrey. My first 100 mile week, first double ultra (well, really long marathons) and first win, topped with super quick recovery, a very nice result :-)

Please forgive the impudence, but I'm now going to tag a little reminder of my fund raising to the end of my blogs. I'm raising cash for the Brathay Trust, so if you think my training for, and attempt on, 10 marathons in 10 days in May is worthy of a few quid, you can find the link on the right of this page. Thank you!

Malta marathon

2010-03-02T17:43:00.001Z

The past couple of weeks had been a real rollercoaster - difficult personal stuff countered by some fantastic progress on promotion of the 10 in 10 and my fundraising. I've got an article in Runner's World (April 2010 edition), a feature on a women's running website (http://www.running4womenmembers.com/public/252.cfm), and received an exicting call from the Square Mile magazine telling me I've been shortlisted under the Sport category for their 30 Under 30 Talent Awards that recognises "ambition and achievement, potential and success of London's new elite" in the City (ok, I'm probably there to make up the numbers). I get to go to some posh awards ceremony to see if I'm one of the 30 winners and it's a great opportunity to get Brathay's name out in a brand new network of potential sponsors.

A horrible stomach bug had knocked me out cold after I got back from Seville and I'd dropped as much as 4kgs in as many days. As most of it was dehydration, I'd recovered most of it, but I was still pretty weak, and the 50 miles of training in the week preceding Malta had left me feeling quite drained. I was looking forward to a road race in the sunshine, but was far from fresh. It's an interesting route - lots of downhills but also several climbs including a long drag at about 18k, plus coming off the top of the island down to the coast means you're running into a stiff headwind for a lot of it. It starts at Mdina by some lovely old buildings and weaves around in a confusing series of wiggles before going down to the bay at Sliema. It was so confusing that the lead car took the front two runners the wrong way. After 7k, the runners realised they'd gone wrong (they shouldn't be lapping people so soon) and tried to get back on track. By 25k, they still hadn't been able to find the route so dropped out and were understandably fuming. It's a real shame as it's terrible PR for the marathon and the race director; I hope it doesn't put top runners off the race as, otherwise, it's a very well organised and slick event.

The first 10k has a series of truly exhilarating downhills and P and I threw caution to the wind and flew down them, to the point where I almost clocked a 10k PB and was on course for a 3'20 finish. Oops. Still, I wasn't after anything other than a sub 4 so it was nice to be reckless and enjoy being a kid for a while. He drifted off after about 40 minutes which let me ease off, a little bit, but now I was getting competitive. If I'd run a sub 3'45 at this race last year, it would have clocked me a top 10 ladies' finish, and there weren't that many girls ahead of me. I could see a pack of 3 though - two who looked good but not too intimidating, and one who looked like a real racing snake. I passed all 3 at about 12k, but Racing Snake took me back within half an hour. That was fine, but I wasn't having the other two pass me again, and somehow I managed to hold off any other girls for the rest of the race.

This meant, of course, that I'd been blatting it so far and running far too hard. It was great fun but bound to end in tears...... I got through to 30k comfortably but from there found I was entirely unable to pick the pace up as I like to do, and in fact was slowing down. No!!! By 35k, I confess there were a few walking breaks, 3 lots of about 100m before I gave myself a kicking. Woeful performance after the victorious finish at Seville. The first couple of hours had gone by in the blink of an eye, the last hour was epic, that's relativism for you. Still, it was lovely and warm by now, about 24 degrees by the finish, and blissful to have the sun on my back again after so long. There was no chance of a sprint finish in the last k along the bay but I came in in 3 hours 43 minutes 40.

The overall time is great given my preparation, though the pacing strategy was terrible. It's another GFA time, and was good enough for 14th lady overall. Of 70, that's not so bad, and it does make me wonder that if I focussed more on speed, less on numbers and mileage, and turned up to a marathon with a taper and ran as disciplined a race as Seville, how much better I could do. Still, speed isn't the goal at the moment and I do enough of these things to be extravagant every now and again, and I was happy to pay the hitting-the-wall price for caning all those fabulous downhills. I just need to avoid doing it in important races!

Seville marathon and an unexpected PB

2010-02-16T18:21:00.000Z

All I wanted from Seville was a comfortable sub 4 which should have been straightforward. I'd dropped a bit of training during the week purely because I was knackered, so had done 40 miles, far from a taper, but on the other hand, hadn't run a marathon for 2 weeks. (Note to self, don't forget how stupid that sounds to almost everyone, runners included). Preparation has become much more slick now - up, shower, big breakfast, healthy dose of caffeine, race number on, two gels under the bra straps and garmin set. Carb loading had been an indecently enormous plate of pasta the night before which was an endurance event in itself, I reckon it would have fed two hungry people comfortably. As I'd made the comment earlier that I may not have eaten enough for a marathon, the BF challenged me to eat the whole thing which took a very long time but the last mouthful seemed like victory. Restaurants like that must ring a bell in the kitchen if plates go back clean.

Race morning was far far colder than we expected at about 6 degrees, but you get a huge haul of free stuff from this race, including a race vest that was a perfect extra layer. The racing knickers that I was also presented with weren't quite as useful as the wardrobe clothing bag that was just large enough to squeeze into before the start. Happily, P and I found each other before the start so we set off together as we have done a few times before. It's really good to have company for the first few miles and it's perfectly fine when he wants to push off. One day, when I'm having a really good day and he's having a really bad one, I'll beat him, he's been about 5 - 10 minutes ahead of me for the last few. The race starts in the Olympic stadium which is great for facilities (loads of loos, but take your own tissues, and wet wipes if you want to wash your hands. Progress of a sort) and atmosphere but there's a bit of a crush to get out, hence our first mile was 9'23. Beyond that, the roads were wide and spacious, there was bags of room and long straight stretches of glorious tarmac to enjoy. It's not the most scenic of races, going round the outskirts of the city, but it's very fast.

We ran the first 11k together before P drifted off, I was keen to run conservatively for as long as possible for a strong finish so eased back. Well, it felt like easing back, but was just maintaining exactly the same pace. It all passed very quickly and the half way point came round very soon in dead on 1 hour 50. That meant an even split would get me 1 minute off my 3'38'58 PB, slowing down a bit to a 2 hour 2nd half would be a good 3'50, and even crashing to a 2 hour 10 2nd half would get a sub 4. And a negative split would get a PB............ I really didn't want to think about that yet, I blew up a bit in Marrakech and it could happen again, so the decision was parked in favour of staying comfortable and even slowing down a fraction.

By 30k, there was 1 hour 1 minute to run 12.2k to equal my current PB, exactly 8 minute miles. Now I haven't done much speed work lately so that's quite stretchy, and it was only to equal it. I wasn't desperate for a PB but I decided to risk it, if I got it, that would be brilliant, if I didn't, then it was no big deal, I'd be very close, probably get a GFA time and it's better to have had a go than to wonder what if. I took one of my gels that I didn't really need but would probably help and started concentrating. With about 9k to go, I came up alongside a Spanish bloke who was looking very strong, running hard and shouting encouragement at everyone. He was the perfect pacer, as I went past him, I beckoned him to come with me and we stuck together from then on. He was great, calling out how far we had to go, geeing up the walkers, and refusing to let me go when I had a doubtful moment with 8k left and tried to drop off the pace. We were seriously hammering those last few miles and passing dozens and dozens of people, it felt like we were flying. With 3k to go, I knew I'd get a PB of about 30 seconds, hardly worth it, but still a PB. It was hurting quite a bit now, my legs were fine but I seriously need to work on my fitness, however I wasn't going to slow down. Sadly, Mr Motivator dropped back a bit but urged me on. I ran mile 24 in 7'42, mile 25 in 7'45 and mile 26 in 7'38. The last few hundred metres into the stadium, I hit 6'45 minute miling, no doubt helped by the bouncy track, and crossed the line in 3 hours 37 minutes, 35 seconds, a 83 second PB.

I saw Mr Motivator come in shortly after me and was very happy to thank him. Those last few miles are why I love marathons, with conservative pacing, you can coast through the first 20 miles then treat the last 6.2 as a real race. I often think about them in 3 thirds - 2 x 10 miles and the last 6. When you've got the tactics worked out and you have a bit of luck, marathons can be blissful. Those epic struggles along coastal trails seem a million miles away, this is why I love it - open roads, smooth tarmac, a strong finish. Great race!

Miles 1-6 49 min 48
Miles 7-12 49 min 49
Miles 13-18 50 min 07
Miles 19-24 49 min 27
Miles 25-26.4 18 min 05

50th marathon in Marrakech

2010-02-03T19:55:00.001Z

Marrakech was set to be my 50th marathon and 6th of the month. The 50th has come round really quickly, the tally was only 10 a year ago. I've learned that you can run multiple marathons if you ease up on the intensity, learn the difference between a niggle and an incipient injury and get well and truly hooked. It's as much a social thing now too, on Sunday, I saw about 10 people I know from marathons and some of these people are hugely inspirational. 100 club member Danny must be in his late 60s now, but every race I see him in, he comes bounding past me in the last few miles looking fresh as a daisy.

I was feeling ok for this race, if a bit wary. January was a difficult and frustrating month: I'm desperate to get into 10 in 10 training, but two trail maras have caused injuries to my ITB (8 days out) and Achilles tendonitis (4 days out) so the month's mileage was close to 100 miles below where I wanted it to be. On the other hand, I've learned that overuse doesn't cause me injuries, trail running does; now I've proved I CAN run those coastal trail blighters, they're shelved for now. So I was fixed, but only just, and I need to watch the Achilles very carefully over the next few months.

A marathon in Morocco is fairly unique: it produces some amazing distance runners so the winning time was about 2 hours 10, PDQ for a not very well known race. On the other hand, a Muslim country can't be expected to field many women in the sport, only about 10% of the field were female, and most of those were foreigners. I was looking forward to running in a very different environment and the route took us through palm, olive and orange groves as well as down long stretches of dusty road more characteristic of a rapidly growing city though happily there was little pollution to bother you until the final few ks. We were anticipating fairly chaotic traffic control but it was incredibly efficient, it seems that when the chaps in khaki or navy blue with epaulettes and braiding tell you to stop, you do it, immediately. We could do with some of that here in Blighty. The bit I was most looking forward to was running past camels and there were dozens of them, looking as proud and silly as only a camel can.

The race itself was great, after a few days' out with the Achilles I was well rested, though I've lost some fitness lately. My only tactic was to enjoy it, so I set out at a comfortable pace which turned out to be about 8'20 - 8'30 / mile. It was a social day out - running alongside the BF for a few k before he took off, then talking to a united nations of runners - Morrocan Najib, a Mexican chap, a French guy, Scottish Mel, Jerry from Derry (or was it Terry from Kerry?) as well as several English people too. Sadly I didn't get to practise Italian or German which I'm learning at the moment. My lack of fitness was evident in the last few miles, and I dropped to 9'30 / mile, but I was still very pleased with 3 hours 50 on a funny month and not much speed in my legs.

So that's the 50th marathon done and a bit of a landmark. Thinking back at all the uplifting, painful, emotional, soul-destroying and euphoric memories, it makes me look forward to the next 50 with a mix of trepidation and excitement. No matter how many you run, they're still a very long way and never to be underestimated, but I'm looking forward to seeing what's going to happen, especially in the 10 in 10.

Handing over my wannabe 100 club membership tenner to Roger

Gloucester marathon, number 49

2010-01-25T19:41:00.000Z

The day after the Portland coastal marathon was the Gloucester marathon, and if it had been on trail, it's debatable whether I would ever have started. The legs weren't too sore, apart from a painful Achilles, but they were very very tired and heavy. The hills in Portland hadn't been too bad, but the 3.5 miles along Chesil beach had sapped all the energy out of them and put considerable stress on my calves and ankles, making my right Achilles hot, inflamed and particularly aggravated by uphills.

Luckily, this race is no more than undulating, there are a few bumps that inevitably get longer and steeper on each of the 3 laps, but nothing too severe. I was ok for the first 10 miles or so, but didn't take on enough food or liquids during the race - there was nothing at the stations other than water and electrolyte stuff that was icy cold and not very appealing. Zurich New Year's mara with its warm isotonic drinks and huge arrays of gels, bars and fruit seemed a long way away. I struggled from about 14 miles, keeping myself going with the promise, always undelivered, of walk breaks, until Susie provided race saving Welsh cakes at 18 miles.

My 4'22 finish was fine, given how tiring Portland was the day before and given my highest mileage week ever at 86 miles and 16 hours on my feet. I'm going to have to rest the Achilles now for a bit, it's very inflamed and sore, however since it was exacerbated solely by stupid terrain that is not a standard running surface, I'm reasonably confident it will heal in a few days. I'm really looking forward now to my 50th marathon in Marrakech at the weekend, it seems to have come round really quickly.

Portland Coastal marathon

2010-01-24T22:08:00.000Z

The Portland coastal marathon was always going to be a long, hard day, but I had to beat it. I'd DNF'd Endurance Life's Gower marathon and had vowed never to do a coastal mara again, and had given away my South Devon and Pembrokeshire places. However, I HAD to do one, to prove I could do them, even if I was right at the back and hating it. They make me feel like a really rubbish runner and a weak one too, but if I could just beat one of the damn things, it would ease my mind a bit about being a quitter. I'd also been very very low lately, with my finger firmly on the self destruct button. My motivation for all the running is partially the constant feeling of underachievement, I always have to do more and, if I can do it, it can't be that hard, can it? In a similar way, when things go really really well, I believe that I don't deserve it or haven't earned it and end up pushing it away. It's totally stupid, but Saturday was me beating myself up for almost 7 hours. The good cop on my right shoulder would identify the insecurity and paranoia and suggest that being rational and logical would address the issue, but then the bad cop on my left shoulder would whisper "who the hell do you think you're kidding? you think that's good enough? look how crap you're running this race for a start." It was a long, lonely, miserable day.

The course is 2 laps of Portland, starting off up a steep hill, then along the east coast which was relatively straightforward and reasonably quick to Portland Bill, the picture postcard lighthouse. It was calmer and shadier on this side so offered a bit of a break. Beyond Portland Bill, however, was a long muddy drag uphill and then a flat stretch of trail-shoe-defying mud. That wasn't too bad. After a fell-runner's paradise of a downhill came the beach. Chesil Beach is a long spit of shingle, pebbles bigger than gob stoppers sucking your feet down, every step sinking in to your ankles, and every push off resulting in nothing but backwards movement. It's totally exposed along there, and the wind was whipping across the bay, it was freezing. After a few minutes, the noise of the pebbles became deafening and it became this absolute nightmare - pebbles as far as you could see, there was 1.7 miles of it, dead ahead in a straight line. I lost it a bit here, there were quite a few tears as my legs turned to jelly, my hands started to freeze and the noise became unbearable. I couldn't let myself think of doing it again on the second lap.

Coming off the beach was peculiar, you hit firm ground and there's utter, beautiful silence beneath your feet, but your legs can hardly hold you up, they're just buckling. The ground though receives each step and bounces you back into the air, you'd feel light as air if only your legs would keep you upright. Thankfully, there's a mile of flat path to the half way point where I shoved down a mars bar and fought the bad cop who wanted me to pack it in. I had to finish it, these races are brutal and sadistic but I wasn't going to be beaten by it again. Plus, I'd just eaten a mars bar, I had to burn that off and that would take at least 2.5 miles. Jeez, I'm finding carb loading for these races very tough at the moment, I do it because I have to but it's so difficult when I'd happily never see food again.

I made it past the half way point / finish line and carried on. Thankfully, I made reasonable progress to the Bill again, but seriously struggled to maintain anything over a shuffle thereafter, my legs were so so wobbly. This time on the beach, I knew how long there was to go, and breaking it down helped enormously. V'rap bounded past me in the final few hundred metres looking very fresh and happy and I tried to summon a grimace for El Bee who was there at the finish with his camera but there had been such a roller coaster of emotions that it was next to impossible. But it was done, in 6 hours 40, I never have to do a coastal marathon again, and it was thankfully a road marathon to follow the next day.

The 10 in 10 club marathon

2010-01-20T05:38:00.000Z

This weekend, I had the opportunity to go up to Brathay Hall at Windermere to learn more about the charity, to meet past and present 10 in 10 runners, the nutrition and physio sponsors and the inspirational founder Sir Chris Ball who ran the inaugural 10 in 10 aged 70, and to run the marathon route. It was an invaluable weekend, both on a practical level and as a chance to get advice and inspiration from those who had already run the 10 in 10.

We also had got to run the route on Saturday as the first 10 in 10 club marathon. There are 27 people who have run 10 marathons in 10 days at Brathay and they're establishing an England Athletics affiliated club for them. It's hugely exclusive and elitist, and I can't wait to get my membership.. It was pouring down with rain, and all the recent snow melt meant the roads were pretty flooded for large parts of it, but getting used to being wet is fairly vital for the Lake District! In spite of the terrible weather, it reminded me how much I love this race - the first half especially with rolling hills and woodland, then the second half where you get superb views over Lake Windermere. I'm usually pretty slow in the cold and I stopped for sandwich and tea breaks twice, finishing in 4 hours 30, so there's a lot of work to do if I'm going to break the 41 hour world record.

Being at Brathay was a chance to witness the charity's work first hand, and I'm hoping to get to Brixton in South London to see their work there too. It's pretty special how transforming Brathay's investment in these kids is, some of them come from absolutely nothing to having the basic suite of confidence, respect and purpose that enables them to go onto to hugely fulfilling lives. I was always happy to represent Brathay, but now I know more about it, I'm really committed to working alongside them by taking part in their biggest fund raising event of the year and raising the £2k I'm expected to. Several of the golden bond charity places for the London marathon are £2,000 and that includes the runner's costs (each of the TiTs stumps up £500 to cover board, food, physio etc etc before we start raising any cash, all your donations go straight to Brathay). I'm running 10 marathons in 10 days, so I think I need to aim a bit higher than that, it would be nice to get to £2,620 to match the 262 miles. This isn't one of those faceless charities where you feel your cash is disappearing into a black hole, it's directly improving kids' lives. If any of you can spare even a fiver, it'll all add up.

Stansted Stagger

2010-01-06T21:19:00.001Z

Perfectly cold, frosty and sunny winter's day (hands froze at 7 miles), lots of fields, whoever wrote the directions seemed to get bored of writing them after 20-odd miles, well-stocked checkpoint, lots of friendly Fetchies (sorry I was anti-social), but entirely unmemorable. It was a perfectly pleasant and well-organised LDWA event, and I have no complaints, but it's one of my more forgettable races - it's already blurred into a series of endless flat fields and bare hedges. I am, however, one of the very few people who have already run 2 marathons this year which is rather nice.

Zurich New Year's marathon

2010-01-04T17:52:00.001Z

New Year's Eve seems to be me to be one those nights designed to make you feel uncool, plainly dressed and friendless. With no desire to drop silly amounts of cash on obligatory fun, or to watch Jools Holland bashing away on his piano, I usually sleep through midnight then get up for a hangover-free run on New Year's Day. Allan had other plans - for his 100th marathon, he was going to run Zurich Neujahrsmarathon that starts on the stroke of midnight and goes alongside the river on gravelly trails. It seemed a great idea, what a bonkers way to start the year and a memorable way to round off and impressive journey to the 100.

We were exceptionally lucky with the weather, having anticipated freezing temperatures and snow, it was relatively balmy and showers looked to be the worst we would get. On the other hand, it was the first race I'd run with a headtorch in a long time. It lit just enough to stop you tripping but it took several miles to develop a slightly higher stepping technique and the confidence to trust very blurred vision. It was a foggy night and the torchbeam reflected off the water particles turning everything into a white blur. Depending on your mood, it was either atmospheric or very eery and being a full moon, running through the graveyard definitely sent a few shivers up your spine.

I was moving pretty comfortably, though the pace was slower than it felt, probably due to the dark and the difficult to read path. It's a 4 lap race which helped enormously - the time passed quickly, you got to know where the larger rocks were and you never felt totally alone. It was pretty special to see headtorches stretched out along the river and bobbing in the dark on the opposite bank. My month's rest has left me well rested with plenty of energy, but a slight drop in endurance - I usually pick it up in the last 6 miles but this time there was no higher gear. When 2 guys decided to sit right on my heels from 40k, I couldn't shake them off and they weren't about to pass. It seemed probable that they'd use me as a pacer almost to the end then kick past which didn't please me at all, the cheeky gits.. The closer and closer we got to the finish, neither would make a move so I decided to make a break for it with about 200m to go. I think they were being gentlemanly - anyone could have outsprinted me but they kindly let me have my minor and entirely inconsequential victory. I came in in 4'18 which was enough to make me fastest British female over the marathon this decade. Sure that won't last long...

So there we were, drinking champagne at 4.30am on New Year's Day and clapping Allan on the back. He'd also come in as fastest Brit over the marathon in 2010 and I was fastest British lady (so far) which was a lovely bonus. It was a brilliant race to choose for your 100th, summing up the slightly unhinged nature of the serial marathon runner and it's one we won't forget. A great way to kick off the new year!

Centurion Allan and me in our string vests - best race memento ever

No regrets

2009-12-06T09:49:00.000Z

I'm sitting here, on my own sofa on a Sunday morning with a brew that's in a mug, not a polystyrene cup. I'm not shivering in running kit in a primary school/village hall/sports centre in the middle of nowhere, and it's warm and dry in here whereas it's about 10 degrees and pouring with rain outside. God, I am SO happy I'm not running the Doyen of the Downs 30 over the South Downs today.

I started running the Gower marathon yesterday, which runs along the coastal path and back across country to make it a loop. The thought of more coastal path wasn't very alluring after the Pembrokeshire horror, but there was the consolation of cross country which surely ought to be less of a mountainous purgatory. However, with all the rain we've had lately, it was a mudbath. After about 3 miles, we were sliding around and expending more energy trying to stay upright than to make forward progress.

This isn't my version of running. Yes, after several hours, you're building strength and pure mental obstinacy, but you don't get that feeling that I love about running - the impression that the world is turning underneath you as you lope along, this is more like grinding a workhouse mill to turn, inch by inch. I like the pure mechanics of running, the feeling of your legs being able to stretch out in the same motion over and over and over again, and that's why I like the road and the track and the treadmill.

I was hating every single minute of this run, and was feeling significant time pressure too. My lift needed to get down to the South Downs that afternoon which meant I really needed a sub 6 to avoid making them really late. My pace, on the other hand, was suggesting 6 hours was unlikely and I was already the last runner by a long way. I was shocked by the pace set - noone was walking the hills and everyone was running at a very decent clip. By the checkpoint, it didn't take much suggestion that I'd get timed out to chuck it in.

So this isn't a list of excuses. I felt awful about chucking something in for no real reason, I wasn't tired or particularly injured (my feet are in a bad way but they have been for weeks) and I was, and still am, afraid that I'll lose a lot of people's respect. However, I've finally accepted that I Don't Like Trail. The views, the solitude and the peace are fantastic, but it's not for me. I'm sticking to road now, and maybe I'll even try a track marathon some time.

The self-reproach was pretty bad yesterday, but now I don't have any regrets. Of 37 marathons and ultras this year, I've had 3 DNFs: Kent 50 (ITB issues), Pembrokeshire day 3 (mild hypothermia and general knackeredness) and Gower (CBAs), but I've also run 34 marathons in 9 months, will have increased my 2008 mileage by 50% to 2,400 miles and was very proud to have organised an almost seamless team at the 192 mile, non stop, 26 hour Round Norfolk Relay that came in within 5 minutes of predicted time. No self pity allowed!

Florence marathon

2009-12-02T21:01:00.001Z

Florence was just lovely, the start is up the hill in the Piazza Michelangelo overlooking the city and it was such a lovely morning P and I decided to walk up rather than endure the bun fight that was getting on the bus. It was one of the most pleasant starts to a big city marathon I've experienced: no bag drop, no metro journey to the start, far less chaotic than expected and a perfect bit of sunshine to enjoy the serene views over the city and hills beyond.

We ran the first k together as it was pretty congested and very slow but P pushed off after that. I was expecting a clear sub 3'30 from him (he delivered) and I was intending to take the first half very easy. My form hasn't been good lately so a sub 4 seemed quite ambitious, the best hope was a strong and enjoyable race regardless of the time. The next few ks were downhill to pick up a bit of speed, though I had to duck behind a bush for a loo break - it's a special quality of most of the continental marathons I've done that men are perfectly welcome to wee against any vertical surface, and girls just have to cross their legs.

I'd settled into a comfortable pace and after half an hour or so was consciously holding back, I wanted to take it easy until 30k then start picking it up. This made the time pass quite slowly, completely the opposite to Newcastle last weekend where each 5 mile lap seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It reminded me of that Einstein quote that goes something along the lines of "Spending hours talking to a pretty girl feels like seconds, but seconds spent standing on hot coals feel like hours. That's relativity." Perhaps the difference was that there was so much to look at in this race so you spend ages looking around and soaking up the atmosphere rather than tuning out and getting into an almost meditative state. Sorry, I'm not getting new age here, I emphatically do not meditate in races, but there's something very calming about encouraging your brain to stop thinking in words and to drift where it likes. You might not feel you've thought about much, but you do feel remarkably relaxed.

At about 14k, the 4 hours pacers and the hordes around them went past. It didn't bother me, I wasn't chasing a time and I definitely didn't want to get caught up in any pocket of gridlock that accompanies pacers. I also met two Fetchies and had a bit of a chat, but otherwise it was uneventful, just cruising along, enjoying the feel of smooth tarmac under my feet and conditions that were warm enough for shorts and a vest. By 26k or so, the route swings back through the historic centre of town where the crowds and noise increased. Running through tight alleys with the Duomo peeking out the top was pretty special, I was loving it by this stage and finding it hard to keep my foot off the accelerator. Ah, to hell with it, I can run 10 miles hard.

The last 10 miles were fantastic, I was full of energy and was really enjoying it, it was hard to keep the big grin off my face. I'd gone through the half way point in 2 hours on the nose so if I maintained the same pace I'd get the 4 hours. To be honest, by this point I wanted a big fat negative split, to prove to myself that I can pace myself conservatively then push it when you're starting to tire and lots of people around you are flagging. At no point in this marathon, however, was I tired. It was brilliant, no physical or mental doubts all day. The finishing time was 3 hours 55 minutes, so that's about 9'10 / mile in the first half and about 8'40 / mile in the second, and I passed 1,769 people between the half way point and the finish line. A good day at the office!

I'm very very happy with the splits, so please excuse the geeky numbers:

Distance Time Position Pace (kph)
5k 28'02 5,644 9.9
10k 28'15 5,933 10.8
15k 28'58 6,088 10.9
20k 28'32 6,298 10.9
25k 28'32 6,161 11.0
30k 27'24 5,791 11.0
35k 27'14 5,205 11.1
40k 26'52 4,389 11.1
42.2k 11'22 4,529 11.2

I promise I won't do this too often...

Newcastle Town Moor marathon

2009-11-24T13:00:00.001Z

Weather forecasts for the Newcastle marathon indicated we'd stay dry and not too windswept if we all ran world record times, so it was looking like another battle against the elements on the Town Moor, an exposed bit of rough parkland outside the city. The route was 5 wiggly laps of the moor with a fair bit of doubling back so there was plenty of opportunity to spot familiar faces and exchange a wave. There were so many familiar faces too, both Fetchies and 100 marathon club types, so it was a very social day out. I think a few found the multi-lap and open nature of the route challenging, you knew exactly what was coming and how far was left. I like multiple laps (to an extent, not sure I'm ready for a track marathon just yet), and for me the time passed very quickly.

It was pretty uneventful really, and I don't want to write a weather report. Yes, it was windy, but only in the last 3 laps and only really for a one mile stretch each time across the open moor. Compared to Pembrokeshire, it was just a bit of a breeze and having to cope with it for only 10 minutes at a time made me wonder what the fuss was about. Relativism, love it. And other than one grassy muddy hill that was about 0.2 miles long, it was completely flat. You can't complain about 1 mile of ascent in a marathon especially when you get the reward of the downhill afterwards. I personally think that this is a very quick race, in good conditions, fast times are definitely achievable.

This made my time a real indication that I'm not running well at the moment. I felt fine throughout, with no dramas, just slow slow legs. I made up some time in the later laps and passed several people for 4'23 (again) but this really should have been a sub 4 course for me. I saw a nutritionist on Friday and believe she will have a more constructive suggestion than "eat more" to address the lack of energy. Along with a few weeks' rest in December to eliminate the niggles, catch up on sleep and top up the motivation, it ought to set me up for 4 months of solid and productive training in the new year.

Not my most scenic marathon!

The Cornish marathon

2009-11-16T14:14:00.000Z

Saturday's storms had all cleared by late afternoon, and the clear blue skies looked hopeful for the marathon. In any case, after Pembrokeshire, any weather would seem positively tropical in comparison. The evening was a bit surreal: I got to my B&B to find a glass of whisky and a wallet on the bar but noone to be found. After shouting Hello a few times, I went upstairs in search of the landlady, only to find Jim "Manic" Mundy of about 200 marathons up there. I didn't know he ran B&Bs in Liskeard on the side.

I'd agreed to meet a few Fetchies in the Premier Inn pub, about 15 minutes out of town, worth the walk to find a good bunch of Fetchies and several 100 club guys too and we got settled in for a few drinks. By the time I left at about 10, a bit sleepy and a tiny bit drunk, a shortcut seemed like a good idea, so I followed a slip road round the back of Argos and Homebase rather than going all the way round the front like I had on the way there. Not a good idea, I found myself on the A38, a dual carriageway with cars belting towards me at 70mph and me wondering why I was in a black jacket rather than reflective running kit. I climbed over the barrier, up the embankment, through the brambles, over a fence and through some trees, picked the bits of twig out of my hair and was on exactly the right road, and had probably saved myself 5 minutes' walk at the cost of several scratches and a few near misses. While it's nice to have a sense of direction, sometimes it's best to recce the route beforehand.

As for the race, I was more nervous before this than I have been for a long time. I wasn't sure if I could run still after the last few weekends, and I had zero confidence. The first few miles were terrible - my right foot is very sore, I had a bit of shin splint pain and felt very uncomfortable. Things were better after several miles' warm up as they usually are, so I followed some excellent advice I'd been given - take it one mile at a time and enjoy the scenery.

I had no time or pace ambition for this one, other than to get sub 5 hours (if only to catch my train) so I had plenty of leeway if I needed to walk the hills or slowed considerably. It was a very very hilly event for a road marathon, with a respite from mile 15 to 21 which downhill and flat along a valley, a stretch considered boring by quite a few runners. I liked it, but then I like long flat stretches of tarmac, you get to a purer form of running, right down to the mechanics of it, without being distracted by corners or changes in surface or gradient. It's why I like treadmill running too.

The route was superb, through country lanes and over Bodmin moor, exactly the sort of scenery I love, and the weather was perfect with blue clear skies, sunshine and no wind. It was just the sort of race I love too, a small field of about 200 runners, really well organised and very friendly. The pockets of support were extremely encouraging and vocal, something you don't expect in a rural event, and the runners were clubby but collegiate, you could exchange a few words without feeling obliged to talk for ages.

There were long patches where I was running by myself, enjoying the silence and views and remembering that this is exactly why I like marathons. And for some reason yesterday, I found myself able to run most of the hills, including all of them from mile 21 onwards. I'd found my endurance legs by then and was in a good rhythm; the feeling of being able to run some of the stiffest hills at that point in the race was a big boost to my confidence, plus I passed quite a few people, always nice!

There wasn't much of a sprint finish, my legs were tired and sore and I'd had bad backache for a few hours. I came in in 4 hours 23, with 2'09 and 2'14 splits for the halves and, more importantly, had had no dramas. Energy levels were good, I hadn't had any moments where I thought I'd DNF, and I'd enjoyed it. This was a very important and significant marathon after a run of terrible events, and to have had a calm and peaceful marathon and a solid finish has lifted my spirits enormously.

Dressed for a cold day....

Pembrokeshire Coastal Challenge - 3 marathons in 3 days (Had I not learned from the last time?)

2009-11-09T20:53:00.000Z

Day 1 - Dale to Newgale
Today was a tough day, it was raining steadily when we set off and got very heavy over the next 3 or 4 hours. What was worse was the wind, it was extremely gusty, coming from every direction but behind, and it was a real fight to make any head way into it. It actually blew me over a few times when my concentration dropped, happily it tends to come from the sea so I only found myself on a grassy bank rather than head first down a cliff face.

I realised I had made a serious error this week very early on, my diet just hadn’t been sufficient, and I’d been eating like I was on a 2 week bikini body plan out of Femail all week. My legs were empty and I was finding it very hard to drum up any strength. The food supplied by Votwo the night before had been fine, but in Lilluputian portions; Heather and I had gone out for a second dinner in desperation, but I hadn’t really had a square meal for about a week (too much travelling and not enough planning).

Still, the cut offs were fairly generous, given the shocking 11.30am start. There’s no way I’m starting that late again, it's not so bad for a 4 or so hour road marathon, but off road when it gets dark at 5 it’s way too late. We could afford to let the times slip, and Heather was very good at keeping me company when she was clearly much stronger than me.

It was a hard race to keep your sense of humour in, the wind and rain, constant up and down, sliding around in the mud and going over on your ankles was testing, but the Votwo guys are brilliant at the checkpoints. You’d arrive pretty drained and grumpy but a bit of banter and a cup of tea later and things seemed much brighter. Some of the banter was at my expense, I had perfected my Ey Up Grandad shuffle, legs going as fast as I can move them, which isn’t very fast at all, and arms pumping like the clappers to retain momentum. It’s best accompanied with a big grin and a wink, and a request to get t’kettle on for a brew. Arriving into a checkpoint like this is a far cry from sashaying down a staircase in a ball gown to a posh party, especially when you look like a drowned rat. Note to self, ditch the mascara.

We’d slogged through hours and hours together, and the company was invaluable. You get each other through the bad times and you can share the hysterical moments together too. Upon reaching an appropriately heavenly bit of tarmac just before Little Haven at about 20 miles, I knelt down on hands and knees to kiss it, then lay prostrate on the road embracing its smooth and mud free surface. It was partially a genuine expression of gratitude, and partially a means of lightening the atmosphere but this marathon business isn’t good for your dignity.

The scenery was superb for a short while when the sun came out a little bit. This is why we came all this way, the Pembrokeshire coast is stunning, all rolling cliffs and ranks of inlets and headlands stretching into the distance. Some of the deserted beaches below us were glorious - smooth firm sand with blue surf breaking onto it. Sadly, we had to run the last few miles in darkness as it got so late, stars may be pretty but they ain’t so good at letting you know where to put your feet to avoid a broken ankle. The last few miles were pretty boring and seemed endless, so we’ll definitely be starting earlier tomorrow with the walkers to avoid another finish in the dark. While I’m pretty tired and hoping there’s not so much wind, I’m looking forward to another day by the sea. It’s not a bad way to spend your annual leave.

Sunset over Druidston beach

Day 2 - Newgale to Porthgain

Day 2 started at Newgale beach

The weather this morning was much better – cold, but lots of sunshine and the wind was considerably lighter than yesterday. We’d started early to give us a bit more headroom on the cutoffs, and to hopefully finish in daylight. This meant I did a lot more walking and less Ey Up Grandad shuffling, but that was fine, the aim was to finish in decent shape and keep some in the already heavily-depleted tank for tomorrow.

The coastline around St David’s peninsula is even more stunning than yesterday further south, more rugged and wild with some incredible coves and beaches. It was nice to be able to appreciate them too with the clearer weather and less time pressure. It was fairly uneventful for most of the run; the rain and wind didn’t really set in until about 23k after which I had a down spell that lasted all the way to 41k. It felt like I was making very little progress, and it had turned into yet another fight against the gales and rain. The 16k distance between checkpoints 2 and 3 was particularly difficult, it just seemed to go on for ever.

Coming into that checkpoint, I was kind of hoping they’d pull me out, there was little daylight left and I was freezing. The Votwo guys were predictably brilliant, and gave me no choice. It was only 3000m to the end and I was carrying on. Jason had a surprise for me in the van, it wasn’t a hot bath, but it was close - half a mars bar and a cup of tea. Nectar! If I was going to get the last bit done, it required warmer dry gloves but my hands were so cold I couldn’t get them into my thicker gloves. Jason went beyond the call of duty by shoving them into his own armpits. Guess I was lucky it wasn’t the other warm part of his anatomy.

The guys’ support really helped, they made it seem achievable and like there was no choice but to get it done. With a last bit of energy, I clambered up the last hill onto the headland where it was blissfully smooth underfoot and flat. A call from my boyfriend saying he’d arrived at St David’s (he was here to run Day 3) and was heading for the finish was the icing on the cake, and I even managed to break into a run for the last few k, even though it was now dark. My time was woeful again, but I’d got day 2 done and I’m not broken. It’s a vast improvement to the end of Greensands two weeks ago.

Just another bit of Pembrokeshire coast

Day 3 - Porthgain to Pwllgwaelod
We started early again today to get as much light as possible, but the weather wasn't kind, it was gusty and rainy, with the promise of clearer skies later on. I wanted to push this one a bit to try to make up a bit of time as we had to get all the way back to London in the evening, but it wasn't happening, the energy levels were at rock bottom and I was finding it impossible to even stand up straight in the wind. I was shuffling along half bent over and lurching into the banks either side of the tightrope-width gullies that made up most of the path. The prospect of 27-odd miles of sliding down muddy cliffs, clambering up rock faces, being freezing cold and soaked through wasn't a good one, the only way to contemplate it was checkpoint by checkpoint.

The first was 6.8k away. Normally, I can run that in less than 35 minutes, today it took me about 1 hour 15 and I already knew it would be a DNF. Not yet though, I couldn't quit now, I had to get to the next checkpoint at Strumble Head, half way into the race. The next leg was the toughest and most exposed and if I did that, then at least I'd had a decent day out with 13 or so miles done and had battled through the hardest bit. A nibble on a chocolate bar wasn't much help, but that was all I could get down with the rising nausea.

It was 14k to the next CP and that felt unmanageable. I'd take it 5k at a time. That soon felt unmanageable too so it became 1k at a time, that's not even a mile. My progress was getting slower and slower, a heavy rain and hail shower had set in and when the wind gusted it took all my strength just to stay on my feet, there was no hope of moving forwards. I just don't have enough weight to cope with these conditions and things weren't looking good. When I came round a headland and saw the wet glisten of a road the other side of the rocky beach, the decision seemed obvious. I had to stop.

Stopping was pretty horrible, you feel like such a failure. I got picked up by the Votwo guys and taken to the CP at Strumble Head, someone shoved a down jacket on me, someone else jammed on a woolly hat and the medic poured lots of electrolytes down me. I had mild hypothermia, a bit of shock, a few other things with medical names and was just generally done in. I don't regret the weekend at all, it was a fabulous few days by the coast with extraordinarily beautiful views. By the time we drove to the finish a few hours later, the DNF was in perspective; I knew I couldn't have done any more today and there's no point beating yourself up about it. There are other pleasures in life beyond marathon after marathon after all - the finish was in a tiny picture postcard-worthy cove with a few boats pulled up on the beach. The sun was shining and one of the 3 buildings was a pub! We sat on a picnic bench with a beer, looking out to sea with a stadium view of the finishing stretch and everything seemed much brighter.

The finish at Pwllgwaelod

3 marathons in 3 days: part 3 – Dublin marathon

2009-10-27T16:07:00.000Z

I was a bit of a wreck in the morning, and had only managed 5 ½ hours sleep so was pretty tired and sore. We had plenty of time at the start as we’d had to pick up numbers at 7am and I was lucky enough to bump into Michael and Selina, both really experienced 100 club members. There’s something about people being nice to you that just makes you crumble, I was just about keeping it together until I saw them. They were great though, I needed people who’d been through it before to tell me it was ok to be in a bad way at this point and to give me a hug and provide a bit of reassurance. Didn’t stop the tears though, I’m quite embarrassed by how much I fell apart yesterday.

At the start, I wasn’t too bad, it was 26 miles to get through and it was on tarmac and mostly flat. I could get onto autopilot and keep the legs turning over. The first few miles felt good surprisingly, probably because of the tarmac, it’s so much easier to run on than trail. 9 minute miles seemed pretty comfortable too and I wondered whether a sub 4 was possible. It wasn’t about times today though, it was about finishing.

I went through 10 miles on 9 minute pace with the light headedness getting stronger and stronger. Michael had told me to expect it so it wasn’t worrying me, but my field of vision was shrinking further and further, from 10 yards ahead of me at the start to only a few feet in front of me. My eyes were starting to close too and the tiredness overwhelming. All of a sudden, I had two spectators catching hold of me and asking me if I was ok. I’d fallen asleep on my feet and run straight into them. Jeez, there’s autopilot and there’s sleep-running. I tried slapping myself in the face and yelling at myself but I couldn’t keep my eyes open at all. There was a St John’s ambulance on the road that looked like an oasis in the desert. The medic was a bit surprised when I asked her to promise to wake me up in 5 minutes but she probably had more serious issues to worry about than a sleepy runner. It felt like as soon as I had shut my eyes that she opened the door with a bottle of water, but it was a full 5 minutes later, I’d been out for the count.

It helped, I shuffled off and was a bit more alert. It wasn’t even half way though so there was still a long way to go. From there at about 11 miles to 16 miles was hell. I had to reach into the depths of my soul to keep going, it was truly awful. It’s not digging in any more, I’d been doing that since about mile 18 on Saturday, this was a serious test of resolve. But I wasn’t going to have come all this way to DNF at this point.

The mile 16 marker was an epiphany, I knew it was possible and that I’d finish. The fog lifted and the endorphins finally started to kick in. Everything was hurting, but no more than it had done since Sunday, and keeping a sort of run/shuffle/stagger going was easier, and quicker, than walking. The miles passed one by one, and not too painfully slowly and the finish was getting closer. If I could keep moving, a sub 4’30 was possible, which would be a respectable time. The last mile was good, I managed to pick up the pace and pass a load of people, and came over the line in something like 4’20 or 4’22, I’m not sure as my garmin had died a few miles back and it had taken either 6 or 8 minutes to get over the start line. It’s not a bad time considering the nightmare I’d had.

I usually try to come to some sort of conclusion, but I’m still thinking about it. I’ve always tried to keep my emotions under wraps, but the exhaustion totally got the better of me this weekend. It’s made me feel so vulnerable and having so many people see me so broken has been pretty embarrassing. I’ve also seen different sides to people, and some have been incredibly supportive and offered great advice. It’s been a hellish weekend, but I’ll be stronger when I recover. It’s super-compensation or something, break something down and it recovers a bit stronger. It’s not a nice process, but I’m going to need the experience of all these tough races in the TiT.

3 marathons in 3 days: Part 2 - Greensands marathon

2009-10-27T15:23:00.001Z

I was incredibly worried about this race, because it was organised by Dr Rob of Trionium who did the Picnic marathon back in June. That took in Box Hill and Mickleham Downs no less than 20 times and I was on the verge of throwing up and/or passing out for the entire 6 hours and 35 minutes it took me. This one wasn't going to be much easier, and had the added bonus of having a cut off of 1 hour 20 minutes for the first 7 miles, quite stiff when you consider it's largely uphill all the way.

There were loads of people around that I knew but I was in no fit state for company, and spent the entire race very reluctant to tall to anyone, it was going to be hell and I was better off suffering it alone. We set off, up a hill of course, and it was immediately head down to get the 7 miles done. It was a steady grind up and I would usually have walked the steeper uphills but the cut off was tight so I kept slogging on. I made the cut off point with several minutes to spare but it had cost a bit, I'd had to beast it to get there and now I was knackered. At least the legs weren't hurting too much from yesterday.

It was an odd way to start a marathon, it was just a 7 mile race to that point and now I had to completely change my mindset to think about the marathon distance. There was a water station after a few more miles where the girl cheerfully informed us we were at 9 miles. My garmin said 10.5. This completely broke me, utterly wiped out what scraps of confidence I had and wrote off my race. I did for a few seconds consider pulling out, if this was going to be a 29 mile marathon and I was already knackered, there was no way I'd get round.

I could at least get to the turn around point at half way, so I stumbled off up the hill feeling absolutely rotten. I confess I lost the plot here, I was knackered and hurting and had so far to go still, and I didn't even know how much further that far was. For the first time ever, I cried in a race and felt like even more of a dropout for losing it. After a few minutes, I decided I was being a snivelling wreck, and that I needed to toughen the fuck up. My usual technique here is to belt myself in the face a few times and yell some obscenities at myself, "Move your fucking arse, you lazy bitch, what the fuck are you whinging about", that sort of thing. It kind of works, if moving forward is any result.

By this point, people were starting to pass me on the way back and they did lift my spirits. The atmosphere at Trionium races is infinitely more collaborative than yesterday, most were saying encouraging things and you've got to put on a brave(r) face if people are going to see you. Thank god the half way point was bang on 13 miles, it was a huge comfort that the race wasn't stupidly long. Half a mile or so is ok, more than a mile is too depressing.

The way back was horrible, I was really hurting with a sore left knee and finding it difficult to get any speed up. At least I could keep shuffling, even up some of the shallower ascents. At the water station at mile 20, I think I worried the marshal when I took a bottle of lucozade and tears promptly started falling from my eyes, not because I wanted to cry, it was just someone being nice enough to give me something to drink. I'm such a wuss.

Fortunately the last few miles are mostly downhill and I managed to keep shuffling. For the first time in the race, I started thinking about the time and sub 5'30 was looking possible, and beating my time from yesterday was just about on the cards if I could hold it together. There was a small hill in the final mile but I managed to really pick it up in the last 15 minutes to pass a few people and half run, half fall down the hill to finish in 5 hours 18 minutes, 8 minutes quicker than yesterday. I've never been broken so much mentally and physically, that's two really rough days in a row. I am worried about tomorrow, but I'm hoping that because it's road and flat, my legs will go onto auto-pilot and just keep running of their own accord. And I can't wait for that pint at the finish.

3 marathons in 3 days: Part 1 - Beachy Head

2009-10-24T18:50:00.000+01:00

I was well up for a long run in the great outdoors today; I'd only managed to run twice this week (although both were brilliant explorations of Copenhagen's cycle paths) and was in need of some good exercise. The prospect of my first triple was a bit daunting, but I knew that taking it easy and trying not to think of the total mileage was the best way to handle it.

After an easy journey down from London to Eastbourse, the start turned out to be total mayhem - changing, loos and the bag drop were scattered all over the place, queues were epic and noone seemed to be in a very good mood. With the teeming rain and the stiff hill to get us going, it wasn't the best start but at least I met a few marathon buddies including a couple of the other "triplets".

The first few miles of the race were pretty congested and I was finding it hard to get into a rhythm even though it wasn't that tricky underfoot. After mooching along for a few miles, Heather caught up with me. It was great to see her and have the company as I suffering serious CBAs today. Last week, each mile flew by and this was really dragging. The visibility was terrible too as we were running through thick mist so we couldn't even see any of the famous views. At times you couldn't even see people 20 yardas ahead of you, even those in high-vis shirts, which got a bit eery, and made you a bit wary of running off the cliff edge... I confess the course was really boring me and I was struggling to find motivation to do anything other than plod round. At least on a boring road marathon, you can switch off the conscious brain and let your mind wander, off road you have to concentrate on every step.

The weather was seriously deteriorating and by mile 10, about 2 hours in (yes, it was slow), the wind was howling and was driving the rain into our faces, stinging our eyelids and reducing the vis through screwed up eyes even more to just in front of your feet. It was horrible. Thank god it was a warm day for October, or I could have been in trouble in shorts and a long sleeve top. We slogged on and Heather really kept me going, as did the wonderful British humour with people coming up with all sorts of variations on "It's a lovely day for a stroll by the seaside".

Just before a truly magical checkpoint with cups of tea and sausage rolls, there was a particularly slippery bit of mud. Heather and I managed to take the boys' minds off the pain for a few minutes by wondering how well-suited it was for mud wrestling, being very smooth and clayey and free from grit. You don't want grit if you're mud wrestling. Oh no. The sausage roll and cup of tea were indeed magical, I've no idea why this isn't the sports nutrition of elite athletes, and the never ending roller coaster of the Seven Sisters sent us slightly hysterical. We completely lost count of how many sisters we'd done, and I missed Beachy Head, unless it was that hill with the horse box water station perched on top, we were too busy lurching up the hills, falling down them and wondering where on earth the giant poos came from. We decided it had to be brontosauruses. Yep, we'd lost it.

The last mile or so was a lovely downhill over grass, with that steep hill to finish it off. I do hope there was a video camera there because it was so steep, grassy and slippy I bet loads of people ended up on their arses. We came over the line in 5 hours 26 minutes, pretty damn slow but I couldn't care less, I've got two more days to go and I reckon tomorrow's going to be even tougher.

Abingdon marathon - my autumn PB attempt

2009-10-20T13:35:00.000+01:00

Everything was perfect for Abingdon: I'd tapered properly with 2 weeks since my last marathon, I was fit as a flea, well rested, and had avoided hangovers for over a week. The weather was perfect too, quite chilly first thing, but dry, bright, and warm enough for my go faster shorts and vest, I hate being weighed down with loads of kit. On the morning, I was full of energy and couldn't wait to get running. The aim was 3 hours 30 minutes. Not just a PB, which would have been anything quicker than 3'42'30, but 3 hours 30. 8 minute miling gets you in with a few seconds to spare, and is a nice easy calculation. It's a quick pace for me still so I knew my best tactic was even splits, I didn't have capacity to run a negative split, or even to run a positive split and build up a cushion. Basically, I can't accelerate much beyond 8 minute miling over anything more than about 5 miles, so I just hoped that my endurance would get me through the distance.

There were a bunch of us going for 3'30 - Peacey had kindly offered to pace me with Mark, and Jo and Sarah were going for the same time too. The first mile was slow with a bit of congestion, but Jo, Sarah and I blasted the second mile, enthusiasm getting the better of us a bit. We settled into about 7'50 - 7'55 pace which kept my mind happy, we were right on 3'30 pace. It did feel a bit quick though, and I couldn't talk much beyond the odd sentence, Sarah seemed to be finding it much easier. We'd already lost the boys by mile 3, and I felt bad about that but I had to stick to the slightly quicker pace if I had any chance of my target. Being in a little group of 3 was great, even if you're not talking, you can hang on their heels or lead from the front depending on who's feeling stronger.

L-R, Jo, me and Sarah having fun at this point

The next miles were completely uneventful, I didn't notice the surroundings much as I was concentrating on the pace and how the body felt (I'd need the head later). Time was passing really quickly, I do like this running as hard as you can business. By mile 12, we passed Fetchpoint and it was just superb - Lee and Jock dressed up as the 118 guys, though Lee looked more like a 70s porn star, unbelievable amounts of noise and cheering and just so much positive energy you couldn't help but be lifted by it. Apparently we were in a boring industrial park, but believe me, there was no point where I was bored in this race, I was working far too hard.

Even by the half way point, I was concerned about the pace, my breathing rate had increased and I could feel my heart hammering, plus my calves were starting to tighten up and my lower back to twinge. I never get aches and pains in a flat road marathon now, so the greater effort was definitely having a toll. Sarah was really encouraging though, so I decided to hang onto her until 16 miles and assess then. Just before mile 15, there's a tight left hand bend and as I came round it, my legs suddenly felt like lead. Maybe it was just a bad patch, so I pushed on for another mile. It wasn't a bad patch however, I was absolutely done in and there was nothing for it but to slow down. Gutted.

It was damage limitation now, I had completely overcooked it and am clearly not fit enough to run 26 miles at 8 minute mile pace just yet. I was still bang on pace at that point, going through 16 miles at 2 hours and 8 minutes. But by this point, I wasn't sure what pace I could sustain to the finish so had no idea whether I'd even PB. I still had 12 minutes' grace, so could slip to 9 minute miles and get a 3 minute PB, but even that seemed a bit stiff with 10 miles to go. The only thing I could do was to keep moving. At least I don't need to walk in marathons now, it's a mind game.

I slogged through the next few miles, with the intention of getting to Fetchpoint again at 20 miles, it's all downhill from there. Fetchpoint more than lived up to expectations, not only did it cheer me up, Harry and Dave gave me an extraordinarily special Vic Reeves-style thigh-rubbing welcome which made me laugh for about 2 miles. Thank you guys, I think you saved my race! I normally pick the pace up from 20 miles, and really enjoy picking people off one by one in the closing stages, but this time I was being passed by loads of people which was fairly demoralising. But I was still on for a PB and couldn't let that slip too. By this point, even if I kept 10 minute miling going I'd be ok.

Harry's special welcome

There was a lucozade point at about 22 miles and I was so low on energy I decided I needed to get a lot down me for the final few miles. I hated walking, but it took less than a minute to neck most of the bottle and it meant I didn't need to slow down for any more water stations. The last few miles were a bit of a blur really, just keeping the legs moving, ignoring the pain in my calves and quads, trying but failing to acknowledge the marshals. The last 400 yards are on the track in Tilsley Park and the atmosphere was brilliant. I knew I had a PB, and I knew I'd tried my damndest for the 3'30 so, while I'm not over the moon with it, the 3 hours 38 wasn't a disappointing result. I could have gone quicker if I'd started out slower, but that wasn't the plan. You have a plan and you stick to it for as long as you can. I haven't run a marathon with such a risky strategy before and it didn't work today, and it bloody hurt. But I know what I need to work on.

I'll get the 3'30 soon, but in the meantime my focus is on numbers - lots of marathons and lots of miles. I've been planning my spring training schedule for the TiT and it's daunting in the extreme - lots of doubles, some monster mileage weeks and some tough double marathon weekends. I'm looking forward to the challenge though, the next 2 months are for consolidation then it's time for proper hard work from January. Brilliant!

The Great Clarendon marathon

2009-10-05T19:01:00.000+01:00

This has to be one of the posher marathons on the calendar, starting at the very smart Godolphin School in Salisbury with registration in the purpose built theatre complete with proper Greek-style orchestra space, and finishing in the King's School in Winchester where the burger van looked rather out of place among the music facilities, sports field and beautifully tended trees. It's not often that you see marshals in blazers and immaculately pressed duck egg blue trousers either. It being a point to point race, we took the bus from the finish at Winchester to the start which provided some amusement when the driver realised there was no way we were going to get under the railway bridge, no matter how much his passengers ducked.

The route is on trail, but largely pretty straightforward trails, so even my tarmac-spoiled ankles could cope with it. It's also pretty hilly, with a mix of long drags and shorter sharper climbs. These were rewarded with some of the best downhills ever, the mile or so at mile 11 was particularly exhilerating, or at least it was to me as I flew down whooping with delight. There's not much to report on this race. It was intended as a final long run before the PB attempt at Abingdon in 2 weeks' time, and a nice relaxed day out in the country, admiring the views and the fields of "high health pigs", walking the ups, running the flats and downs. It worked out perfectly. I wasn't in the least bit bothered about the time after chasing the clock in my 4 September marathons, and the weather was good enough that you didn't get too cold when walking up a hill. And it really was a lovely bit of countryside.

In the final few miles, I was doing my usual thing of feeling stronger and stronger by the minute and the competitive spirit got a bit fired up. Everyone ahead of me turning into a target, and I was picking them off one by one, making sure that as I passed them I did my utmost to appear fresh and bouncy and well in control, just to psyche them out a bit and make sure they didn't chase after me of course! It seemed to work, and my last mile was a belter in spite of the two little hills. Bounded in in 4 hours 34, which isn't too bad for me on a hilly trail marathon, and I even had the energy to chase my boss's 3 year old around the sports pitch afterwards too. Brilliant Sunday roast in a lovely country pub, couple of glasses of wine and a long hot bath, and I was ready for the next one. Hmm, best hang onto that energy somehow, I'm meant to be tapering for Abingdon in 13 days' time..

New Forest marathon

2009-09-28T19:27:00.001+01:00

I wasn't feeling terribly well at the start of the New Forest marathon: over the past week, I'd had late boozy nights almost every night with not enough sleep or taking care of myself. The energy levels have been feeling very low for a while now, and it's getting increasingly hard to keep the calorie intake up. The more tired and run down I get, the less inspiring the trip to the supermarket, cooking and eating becomes. It's something I do need to sort out before the TiT, and perhaps quite urgently.

I'd topped up the training with a 14 miler on Saturday morning (meant to be 8 but it was a lovely day, I was in a great mood and got a bit carried away), then gone to the Fetch mile. One of the reasons why I do marathons is because I'm not a fast runner, and have little acceleration. Breaking 7 minutes over the mile seemed to be fairly ambitious but Riel had other ideas and told me he was going to pace me to 6'30 and wasn't taking any argument. The first few steps were terrifying, there was no way I could keep this up over 100m, but Riel wasn't going to let me slack off so I hung on for dear life, breathing like a carthorse by the penultimate lap and finally collapsing over the finish line in 6 minutes 33 seconds as close to death as it is possible to get. I may be avoiding these in future... It was quite nice to have my tortoise nature confirmed in the 100m we did later on - of the 12 of us there, I may have been the 4th quickest over the mile, but I was definitively the slowest of the lot over the 100m.

Why don't proper affleets need to recover like this??

I'm not sure how much the mile took out of me for the marathon, that intensity is something I'm not used to, but I just told myself I need to get used to running on tired and sore legs, and even while feeling a bit under the weather. The first 9 or so miles were great, I felt very strong and relaxed and the pace was comfortably sub 8'30 per mile. With a bit of time in the bank, I could even go for another 3'50 I thought. By mile 10, my guts started to protest so I ducked into the forest by the side of the road. That was the beginning of the end, all my energy seemed to have leached out of me and I was having to dig in to maintain the pace. Digging in so early isn't part of the game plan, ever.

The course is absolutely stunning, but unfortunately I couldn't appreciate it fully as all my mental and physical energy was concentrated on keeping my legs turning over. The views were fabulous, I think, and there were lots of ponies around but I had the tunnel vision back and couldn't see much beyond a few feet of tarmac ahead of me. By mile 15 or 16, we were up on the top of the moor in the blazing sunshine, but I was freezing now and covered in goosebumps. Another bad sign.. There were still a few minutes in the bank if I could keep up with 9 minute miles, but the route now became hillier and I was really struggling, taking my first walk break up the hill at 17, and having to stop for a minute or two at the 18 mile water station to try to get some blood back in my head to stop feeling like I was about to faint. It was at that point I lost the 4 hours and it was desperately disappointing, I felt so angry with myself for not pushing harder.

The tactic for the rest of the race was to walk the uphills and run the flats and downs and this seemed to work, although the cravings for any liquid that wasn't water were getting really strong. Lucozade, orange juice and soda water, a pint of bitter, any would have done as the water now wasn't any benefit other than to rinse my mouth out. Luckily, the repeated marathons are really paying off now, those 7 miles were horrible but at least they seemed to pass quickly. It's not often that you see so many people struggling in a marathon this size, I was really surprised to see so many people walking flat stretches. It's not so unusual in a big city race where people aren't so experienced, but this is a fairly small club marathon and not an excessively tough course and, while it was sunny, it wasn't that hot.

By the last mile however, my watch told me that sub 4'15 was well within reach and a sub 4'10 was possible if I really floored it. I remembered the mile time trial and knew I could push harder than I used to think possible only 24 hours before. An almost 8 minute mile and it was done, 4'09'26.

I'm disappointed with that time but putting it into perspective, I averaged sub 4 hours for each of my 4 marathons in September, with a total of 15 hours 43 minutes for the 4. So it's game on for the TiT, and the learning points are slowly identifying themselves. Message from this week? Rest more, and get the nutrition sorted.

Nottingham marathon, Day 2 in a sub 8 attempt

2009-09-14T23:29:00.000+01:00

The Nottingham marathon was Day 2 in my double weekend and after 3'52 at 3 to go mara the day before, the primary aim was a 4'07 to get the sub 8 for the two combined, but ideally a sub 4 to get that pace hardwired into my legs. If my legs are obedient enough to knock out 9 minute miles for 4 hours without too much mental pushing, I'll be in much better shape for the attempt on the TiT.

I woke up feeling surprisingly fresh and the 30 minute walk down to the start eased my legs up to the point where they felt absolutely fine. My right ankle was a bit tight, and has been for a while now, it's linked to the old tendonitis injury from April where my foot collapses inwards and strains the inside of the ankle. Taping it up helps a bit, so it was all go for today. It was strange being back in a big race, shoving through the crowds to get to a reasonable start position and all the ceremony of marquees and music and a compere talking absolute rubbish. Quite uplifting though. By the time we got going, I knew it was going to be a good race, and my mood was stay on top of the world for the next 4 hours.

The first mile or so was with Dave who is well and truly over on the dark side and hooked on marathons now (he had a blinding run), and Olly and Sharon who were doing the half and who got a fair bit of good natured abuse for slacking off. At the top of the hill by the castle after about 1.5 miles, there was a wonderful descent, it was fabulous to open out and fly down it. This wasn't going to be a cautious run, I was just going to run how I felt (as long as that was at least 9 minute miling). I caught up with Richard with whom I ran a fair bit of Windy this year, and we spent the next 10 miles together, having a good old chat. We were particularly taken by the show pony runner, in the tightest compression top imaginable and high stepping along with his arms aloft like he was in a dressage compeition. It was a shame I got busted while doing an impression..... Richard told me off a bit for speeding up at about mile 11, hard to avoid when the half marathoners start picking it up in their final miles, but we stuck together to give them a panto style boo when the route split.

Almost immediately, I both lost Richard and my garmin gave up. It was telling me to delete old laps and inviting me to press enter, which I thought would delete the old laps. No luck, it had stopped counting both the distance and the time so I had to turn it off. It was a bit of a worry, I didn't know how reliant I had become on the Garmin and suspected it was "very", and now I didn't even have a watch. 13 miles to go and the only thing I could do was run at a comfortable pace and hope it was fast enough. Scientific eh? I asked whoever was around me at every few mile markers for a rough idea of the time but that wasn't quite accurate as it had taken a few minutes to get over the start so we were all on slightly different numbers.

Luckily, I was having a great day, feeling fresh with no pain and really really enjoying it. On days like this, it all comes together, you just feel invincible, like you could run for days (guess that what I'm training to do!) and like you're running on air. I had a bit of a chat to a few people, a guy running with his future son-in-law, a guy running for Multiple Sclerosis, a few of 100 club guys, I like hearing everyone's stories about their running, all these very different people with a shared interest. At about mile 19, you get to Holme Pierpoint, a long stretch of water used for regattas, which could I suppose be a bit boring. I loved it however, you can see for miles and it was brilliant spotting all my mates in front and behind me. By the time we got off the water, I had a cracking runners' high and probably looked a bit mental - bit of a hill, woohoo! bottle of water, woohoo! speakers playing new order, woohoo! friendly marshal shouting you're looking good, woohoo! Only 4 miles to go, woohoo!

Given I don't have another marathon for two weeks, I thought it was about time to put my foot down and really nail a sub 4, and going off the various times from other runners' watches, I was looking at about the same time as yesterday. Sub 4, woohoo! Shut up Naomi, you're just getting annoying now.. I was a bit tired in the last few miles and had a rather sore big toe (which turned into a giant blister, nice) but kept it together to cruise along the last bit of embankment and pick it up a bit over the last few hundred yards to cross the line in a gun time of 3 hours 52, exactly the same as yesterday.

The last three races have been 3 hours 51, 3 hours 52 and 3 hours 49 (chip time), that's 8'49, 8'48 and 8'46 pace per mile respectively, just extraordinary. It would appear the legs are quite happy at about 8'45-8'50 pace, with or without the garmin. So that was a sub 8 weekend, 7 hours 41 in total and two sub 4s so I'm absolutely delighted, especially given how enjoyable they've been. The question is now, could I do that for another 8 days? Definitely today, I'm feeling full of energy and bouncing off the walls, and probably tomorrow. Beyond that is less certain, but with massage and proper rest and nutrition I'm feeling much much more confident about the TiT.

Long straight stretch of tarmac = one happy runner

The Three to Go Marathon, Day 1 of a Sub 8 double attempt

2009-09-14T23:27:00.000+01:00

The 3 to go was Day 1 of my first double (back to back marathons on consecutive days) since June, with Nottingham on Sunday. As a tester for the TiT, I wanted to run the two in a total of sub 8 hours, especially considering the 3 to go is fast and flat for a trail mara. It's off road but along good gravel towpaths and tarmac paths along the Lea Valley from St Margaret's to Hackney.

The first mile included a rather unwelcome footbridge over the level crossing, with dire warnings not to go over the crossing on pain of disqualification. The second mile included the diversion of removing my running vest and repinning my number to my sports bra top as it was already pretty warm. Unfortunately, I managed to spear one of my two gels with a safety pin (I stash them under the straps) so had to down it there and then. I must have looked a complete amateur taking a gel in the first 15 minutes of a marathon.

The field thinned out fairly quickly and I found myself about 20 yards behind a man in an orange vest, for about 8 miles. I wasn't bothered about passing him and didn't want to spare the energy talking (talking also makes me need more water, and the stations were 4-5 miles apart) so he inadvertently acted as my pacemaker, cruising along at about 8'30-8'40 pace. It really did feel like cruising, neither plodding like in a trail marathon, nor pushing hard like in a PB attempt, just a nice comfortable pace, legs turning over easily, breathing easy, enjoying no noise but the sound of your feet on the gravel, the breeze on your skin and the sun on your back. Just lovely.

The route wasn't my favourite, with about 6 miles of disorienting twists and turns through the Lea Valley Park and quite a lot in the second half past increasingly grim warehouses and concrete flyovers but it was prettier than I expected and overall not a bad little race. By about mile 16, I drew up alongside orange vest man and we were to play cat and mouse to the finish (I beat him in the end, purely because he'd threatened to take out a restraining order..). By 20 miles, I caught up with Joe to my great surprise, he wasn't having a good race so I pushed on. In the last few miles, all the recent marathons really paid off, I passed a few people while feeling good with no aches and pains. I was a bit tired but it's so much easier to push on mentally now, plus whatever I did sub 4 today was time in the bank for Nottingham.

I crossed the line in 3 hours 52 minutes, at an average of 8'47 per mile (last week was an average of 8'49 per mile) and in exactly the same position - third senior lady. This isn't good, I'm getting predictable......

The Kent Coastal marathon

2009-09-06T18:51:00.000+01:00

The Kent Coastal was the first road marathon in a long time, since Edinburgh in May and, while I was really looking forward to getting back on the road, I was a bit concerned that all these trail marathons had made me a bit lazy. They've definitely made me stronger, the hills today weren't too much of a problem, but I did have to remind myself to run them (they're a great excuse to walk in trail marathons) and to keep going at the water stations and not stop for a chat with the marshals. This was my first sub 4 marathon when I ran it last year so I wanted to beat that time of 3'58, but really it could have gone badly wrong since I could have lost quite a lot of aerobic fitness over the summer.

My tactic for this race was to run the first half a bit quicker to bank some time for the inevitable windy stretch in the 3rd quarter. Dave and I hadn't agreed to run together but, like Edinburgh, we found we were at a similar pace so we kept each other company in companionable silence, until Allan popped up to provide the commentary. It's a good race to run with other people, especially in that tough 3rd quarter. The first half is fairly hilly but along some nice sea front down to Ramsgate and back, then after you lose all the half marathon runners back at the start/finish, you head out through Margate and further up the coast to the turn around point at 19.3 miles.

This is the hard part, the wind picks up here and it's pretty exposed along a pretty unexciting bit of concrete sea wall. What kept me going here was the company, the thought that I just needed to get to about 19 miles and it would all get easier and the extra strength and endurance from all those marathons I've done this year. The aerobic side wasn't too bad, it did feel like I was pushing it a little bit, but I suspect that's because I've forgotten what it's like to run at that effort for that long without nice walking breaks. My pace had slipped a little as predicted into the wind, and I was finding it pretty tough, but things got much easier at the turnaround point.

Our little band of 3 broke up a bit, Allan was looking like he was in a greyhound trap and Dave was starting to tire a little bit (unsurprisingly, on his second mara), so Allan went on ahead and I left Dave behind. He claims he didn't want the company anyway. There was a reasonable cushion of time to get the course PB if I kept moving and happily the legs were obedient, nothing was hurting too much other than the standard bruised feet. I managed to overtake a few people in the last few miles too and got through Margate to run the last 0.2 mile at 7'44 pace which was rather satisfying. My finish time of 3'51 was especially pleasing as it was a 7 minute course PB, and also enough to get a prize for 3rd senior lady. I've never won a prize before, and was so far from expecting it that I was queuing up at the burger van when they announced my name! A cracking day out by the seaside then, and with a few weeks' more training and road marathons, the PB at Abingdon should be achievable.

Allan, Dave and me, and a bloke having trouble sitting down

The Pathfinder marathon - number 30

2009-09-01T19:52:00.000+01:00

The Pathfinder marathon in Cambridgeshire was a lot flatter than Dorset last weekend but required a lot more navigation. Unlike some LDWA instructions, these lacked distances so when we were told to "turn right and after the pumping station and stream, turn right through the gap in the hedge to follow the edge of the field with the hedge on your left", we went sailing up the grassy rutted track for, ooh, more than half a mile rather than about 50 yards. Doh. So this turned into a 28 mile event, at least it was a nice day.

It wasn't the most attractive marathon, lots and lots of flat fields are never going to be very exciting, and the Dorset coastline spoiled me a bit last week with its soaring views, but it was a grand day out with some of my marathon running buddies. And the road season starts on Sunday with the Kent Coastal.

The Dorset Doddle 32 mile ultra

2009-08-24T19:24:00.000+01:00

At the start with super speedy Paul and hard as nails Anna

The names of LDWA events often give you a clue about their severity: the Herts Hobble, the Stansted Stagger etc. The Dorset Doddle, on the other hand, is so euphemistically named that it raises suspicion from the start. This is 32 miles over the Jurassic coastline, from the Jubilee Clock in Weymouth to Swanage covering 10,000 feet of ascent. And it took me 8 hours and 44 minutes.

The route breaks you in gently, with a mile or so along the Weymouth promenade followed by several undulating miles. By mile 8, the hills started in earnest, proper coastal hills that drop down steeply almost to sea level only to rise straight back up again. On more than one occasion, I came round a corner to see the hill in front of me and thought "You have got to be having a laugh". I soon resorted to my How to Climb Hills Without Losing the Will to Live technique - count 10 steps 5 times before promising myself a break to catch my breath, then tell yourself not to be such a wuss and carry on. And repeat.

The scenery was simply stunning, going past King George III on his horse carved into the chalk hills and heading out of Weymouth, the wrong way, Lulworth Castle with its serried ranks of, um, tanks, beaches and coves, chalk cliffs and the coastline stretching into the distance. Lovely. You wouldn't think it were possible to get lost on this race, just keep the sea on your right, but there were a couple of tricky patches, at Lulworth (where admittedly I got distracted trying to buy food, any food, anything at all, god, I was hungry) and into Swanage. There seems to be a theme in races at the moment to do the last mile or so right through a busy town. Running along the beach in a bucket and spade town on a sunny Sunday afternoon with 31 miles and a lot of hills in your legs wasn't the best time to dodge grockles brandishing windbreaks.

I was absolutely done in on this race, haven't had jelly legs like that for a long time. I did realise the absurdity of telling myself "It's an ultra, not a marathon" after a while, but luckily LDWA events are great for taking it easy. You may be the slowest runner, but you'll never be last with all the walkers around so there's no time pressure (apart from the time of last train home). It turned into a very long day out in a beautiful bit of the country on a lovely warm day and some nice new people to chat to.

I really enjoyed this event. Sure, it was extremely hard work but I didn't mind the hills so much, I just think of them as strength training (and of the buns of steel!). There weren't even any patches of wondering what on earth I was doing in yet another ultra, perhaps the lack of time pressure helped there. I'm very happy to be fit and strong enough at last to be able to do a tough ultra at the last minute without breaking. That's got to be progress!

Looking back over Weymouth, this was an easy hill!