Stockholm marathon - #104

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

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. 

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

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

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

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

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.