So it is now 4 weeks since the "shot".
I saw a running specialist on Friday as I have managed to creep up to 5 miles with no dramas.
Stability is an issue as I have been "off games" for 6 months.
Good news is that Athens Marathon (No 10) is ON like Donkey Kong.
Here's the rub: No more than 3 runs a week for the next few months!
Will keep you posted on my ascension to 10 k and beyond.
Suffice to say that I am made up BIG TIME.
Showing posts with label London Marathon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London Marathon. Show all posts
Sunday, 19 April 2015
Saturday, 15 March 2014
Chapter 12: London v James: The Re-Match (London Marathon 2013)
Well of course London was the logical next step. I had conquered my demons of sleeplessness and sub 3:30 terror in Spain and had London in my sights.
The experience of San Sebastian taught me a couple of important lessons. Firstly that Half Marathons were a good way to get into the marathon mind-set and presented a different type of challenge and secondly that I should prepare myself for a sleepless night pre-marathon and just go with the flow rather than working yourself into a frenzy.
But naturally the road to London was not without it’s pitfalls.
For one, the winter of 2012/2013 was bitterly cold and seemed to go on indefinitely. This meant that much of my training in the first 2 months of the year seemed to be taking place in the gym on the treadmill. Of course I mixed things up, doing repetitions as well as distance and strength work.
I also did another 2 half marathons to prep for London – Watford and Reading.
This was a miserable race, sleet, snow and wind chilled me to the bone and yet I made it round in 1:31…Sub-130 was now in my sights and yet I still did not feel completely cool about doing halves…I needed the “whole” deal.
All was going well until the week before the marathon when I was struck down with a dreadful stomach virus that meant I lost a considerable amount of weight and therefore energy. It was literally touch and go as to whether I would run. But slowly and surely my confidence increased sufficiently for me to attempt a mile, then 2, then 3 in the lead in to Marathon weekend. And on the Thursday I sought the “OK” from the GP to race.
The race was on and I had a score to settle…4:14 had to be smashed and I wanted to beat my San Sebastian time.
I had volunteered to raise money for Jewish Care charity to did a little running “pose” ahead of the race which was fun but held me back a little from reaching my pen. IT did get me talking to James Tarlton, a fellow Jewish Care supporter who was about to run his first Marathon.
On the previous Monday, 2 youths had set off a bomb at the Boston Marathon finish and killed three souls and injured many more. As a mark of respect we all wore black ribbons when we ran.
It was hot at the start and though a mere fortnight before there had been snow on the ground I knew this was going to be a warm one.
After 30 seconds silence ahead of the start in memory of Boston we were off.
Memories of the course from three years earlier came flooding back. Something new however was the appearance of a man in a Borat-style mankni ahead of me in the pack. People winced as they watched the “garment” ride up his crack – yuk!
I love the part of the course when the three starting groups all converge like small tributaries joining a big river – it really gives you a sense of the sheer scale of the event.
Once again it was like running past a great street carnival. The combination of the events of Boston the week before and the sunshine brought people out in their masses – I had never seen support like it. Throughout the entire course people were egging us on.
Just before I went over the halfway point I spotted my brother and his girlfriend – gave me a massive lift and I crossed the halfway point in line with my target pace (around 1:35) so I knew that a PB was in sight at this point.
Then it was over the iconic London Bridge and a sharp right after Tower of London and into the no-mans land that is Docklands. It was not too bad and I came out the other side under the false sense of security that it was nearly over….WRONG!
The “wall” hit me like a slap in the face at mile 18 and my illness from just a few days earlier caused me to be searching for energy reserves…I simply had none.
But then I saw my wife and daughters cheering me on, pausing briefly to give them high fives… Then but a few yards later my brother, his wife and daughter and more high fives…
Then I was on my own and crawled to a walk, my face grimacing as all my muscles tightened and the pain shooting up my thighs.
Another shout from the sidelines, this time my friend and fellow Prince nut Manoj Jangra – I was too far away from him to high-five him but instead he got an outstretched hand/pointing finger and a loud grunt.
So close now….Approaching the Houses of Parliament along the Embankment..it’s a long slog though and once you turn right past Parliament you have nearly ANOTHER mile to cover before the finish.
Willing myself forward and resigning myself to the fact that I had missed getting a PB, I trotted along pat Buckingham Palace and then saw the time.
A half-hearted “sprint” and I crossed the line.. Unbelievably I had shaved a minute off my San Sebastian time. The body can do amazing things even when you think all is lost you can rebound and surprise yourself.
I posed for my photo and used some insane hand gesture to indicate that this was marathon number 6…instead looked like a weirdo.
Tingling in the face and hands returned but I knew what to do this time: salt and sweet drinks.
Then came one of the toughest bits of the race. I had to get myself from the finish line in Green Park to Russell Square where my nephew was having his birthday party in a bowling alley and where I would meet my wife and family for the car journey home.
It took a while to get there but finally I could bask in the glory of having conquered London and having wiped 51 minutes from my inaugural time just 3 years earlier.
I felt great, unstoppable and now had a new target in mind for my next race: Florence......
The experience of San Sebastian taught me a couple of important lessons. Firstly that Half Marathons were a good way to get into the marathon mind-set and presented a different type of challenge and secondly that I should prepare myself for a sleepless night pre-marathon and just go with the flow rather than working yourself into a frenzy.
But naturally the road to London was not without it’s pitfalls.
For one, the winter of 2012/2013 was bitterly cold and seemed to go on indefinitely. This meant that much of my training in the first 2 months of the year seemed to be taking place in the gym on the treadmill. Of course I mixed things up, doing repetitions as well as distance and strength work.
I also did another 2 half marathons to prep for London – Watford and Reading.
Watford: Hilly Sonofabitch
Raining at The Start of Reading 2013
Elation at Reading 2013. But the Elusive 1:30 Still Evaded Me
All was going well until the week before the marathon when I was struck down with a dreadful stomach virus that meant I lost a considerable amount of weight and therefore energy. It was literally touch and go as to whether I would run. But slowly and surely my confidence increased sufficiently for me to attempt a mile, then 2, then 3 in the lead in to Marathon weekend. And on the Thursday I sought the “OK” from the GP to race.
At The Expo With The "All Clear" to Race from my GP
The race was on and I had a score to settle…4:14 had to be smashed and I wanted to beat my San Sebastian time.
I had volunteered to raise money for Jewish Care charity to did a little running “pose” ahead of the race which was fun but held me back a little from reaching my pen. IT did get me talking to James Tarlton, a fellow Jewish Care supporter who was about to run his first Marathon.
Jewish Care "Pose"
On the previous Monday, 2 youths had set off a bomb at the Boston Marathon finish and killed three souls and injured many more. As a mark of respect we all wore black ribbons when we ran.
It was hot at the start and though a mere fortnight before there had been snow on the ground I knew this was going to be a warm one.
After 30 seconds silence ahead of the start in memory of Boston we were off.
The Start of London 2013
Memories of the course from three years earlier came flooding back. Something new however was the appearance of a man in a Borat-style mankni ahead of me in the pack. People winced as they watched the “garment” ride up his crack – yuk!
I love the part of the course when the three starting groups all converge like small tributaries joining a big river – it really gives you a sense of the sheer scale of the event.
Once again it was like running past a great street carnival. The combination of the events of Boston the week before and the sunshine brought people out in their masses – I had never seen support like it. Throughout the entire course people were egging us on.
Just before I went over the halfway point I spotted my brother and his girlfriend – gave me a massive lift and I crossed the halfway point in line with my target pace (around 1:35) so I knew that a PB was in sight at this point.
Crossing London Bridge Using my "6 Marathons" Gesture: Arse!
Then it was over the iconic London Bridge and a sharp right after Tower of London and into the no-mans land that is Docklands. It was not too bad and I came out the other side under the false sense of security that it was nearly over….WRONG!
The “wall” hit me like a slap in the face at mile 18 and my illness from just a few days earlier caused me to be searching for energy reserves…I simply had none.
But then I saw my wife and daughters cheering me on, pausing briefly to give them high fives… Then but a few yards later my brother, his wife and daughter and more high fives…
Then I was on my own and crawled to a walk, my face grimacing as all my muscles tightened and the pain shooting up my thighs.
Pain Coming into Parliament Square
Another shout from the sidelines, this time my friend and fellow Prince nut Manoj Jangra – I was too far away from him to high-five him but instead he got an outstretched hand/pointing finger and a loud grunt.
So close now….Approaching the Houses of Parliament along the Embankment..it’s a long slog though and once you turn right past Parliament you have nearly ANOTHER mile to cover before the finish.
Willing myself forward and resigning myself to the fact that I had missed getting a PB, I trotted along pat Buckingham Palace and then saw the time.
The Final Few Yards
A half-hearted “sprint” and I crossed the line.. Unbelievably I had shaved a minute off my San Sebastian time. The body can do amazing things even when you think all is lost you can rebound and surprise yourself.
I posed for my photo and used some insane hand gesture to indicate that this was marathon number 6…instead looked like a weirdo.
Triumphant at London 2013
Tingling in the face and hands returned but I knew what to do this time: salt and sweet drinks.
Then came one of the toughest bits of the race. I had to get myself from the finish line in Green Park to Russell Square where my nephew was having his birthday party in a bowling alley and where I would meet my wife and family for the car journey home.
It took a while to get there but finally I could bask in the glory of having conquered London and having wiped 51 minutes from my inaugural time just 3 years earlier.
I felt great, unstoppable and now had a new target in mind for my next race: Florence......
Friday, 14 March 2014
Chapter 5: London Marathon 2010: A New Obsession
The London Marathon like many of the big city marathons really starts with the expo when you pick up your running number and chip and get coaxed into spending unnecessary amounts of money on stuff you don't need. I made a fatal error. I listened to the masseuse who explained to me that I should take the first 6 miles easy (10 minute miles) and then step it up. Seemed sensible to me so that strategy stuck in my head.
I dreamt of turning up to the Marathon start line in my crocs and woke up with a start at just past 6am.
My buddy Josh Cohen (who would later run the Loch Ness marathon with me later that year) took me to Stanmore tube for the long journey to Greenwich and fired me up with tales of bravado and marathons he had run over the years.
Lining up on 27th April 2010 in my starting pen, my goal was to achieve a sub-4 hour time. Looking back, how on earth I figured I could do this on my training was beyond imagination but there I was in the red pen getting slowly doused in rain.
I looked around and everyone was wearing shorts and running vests. I felt smug, in my 2 t-shirts, leggings, waterproof running jacket, rucksack with 2 lucozade sports and 2 bananas. What a novice!
We were off and it took about 2 minutes to cross the start line. The majesty of the inflatables and balloons were very exciting. And we were off! I was running a marathon, still sore from my first ever 20 mile run the week before.
I quickly overtook Darth Vader and a bizarre looking giraffe and plodded my way to the Cutty Sark where I decided I should pick up my pace.
I’d left it too late and was already over the 2-hour mark by the time I had reached Tower Bridge. My goal had slipped through my fingers and instead of feeling invigorated that I was over the half way mark I felt dejected and tired.
The final 13 miles were the hardest and most unpleasant I have ever run. My leg was killing me. My hips were killing me. I felt sick and wondered how on earth I would make it to the end. But I did not walk thinking if I was to do so it would be game over as I would lose any momentum (partially true).
I spent the last 10 miles looking for my wife and kids but could not see them. The last few miles along the embankment I felt like I was literally dragging my leg but the end did come.
I crossed the line in 4 hours, 14 minutes. Immediately I had pins and needles in my face and hands (through salt depletion and dehydration) and stumbled over the area where you have your timing chip removed and your medal awarded. I met my wife and kids and promptly burst into tears.
Unless you have run a marathon and dealt with your own demons it’s difficult to describe the feeling when you finish. Relief, total exhaustion but pride starts to build and although my experience was marred by a lack of preparation and in my mind a poor time, I had reason to celebrate.
Lying prone on the couch people that evening were calling me and popping by, congratulating me on my time, which was deemed to be respectable. I thought they were all humouring me.
And then a strange thing happened. I felt that I had let myself down, that I had not applied myself properly. I knew that I had a runner’s DNA but I was not putting it to use. There was unfinished business that I needed to take care of.
My first ever Expo and number!!
I dreamt of turning up to the Marathon start line in my crocs and woke up with a start at just past 6am.
My buddy Josh Cohen (who would later run the Loch Ness marathon with me later that year) took me to Stanmore tube for the long journey to Greenwich and fired me up with tales of bravado and marathons he had run over the years.
Lining up on 27th April 2010 in my starting pen, my goal was to achieve a sub-4 hour time. Looking back, how on earth I figured I could do this on my training was beyond imagination but there I was in the red pen getting slowly doused in rain.
Never seen as many runners! Baaaaa (felt like a sheep)
I looked around and everyone was wearing shorts and running vests. I felt smug, in my 2 t-shirts, leggings, waterproof running jacket, rucksack with 2 lucozade sports and 2 bananas. What a novice!
We were off and it took about 2 minutes to cross the start line. The majesty of the inflatables and balloons were very exciting. And we were off! I was running a marathon, still sore from my first ever 20 mile run the week before.
RED Start
I’d left it too late and was already over the 2-hour mark by the time I had reached Tower Bridge. My goal had slipped through my fingers and instead of feeling invigorated that I was over the half way mark I felt dejected and tired.
The London Bridge "Lurch". Game over for sub 4 hour :(
The final 13 miles were the hardest and most unpleasant I have ever run. My leg was killing me. My hips were killing me. I felt sick and wondered how on earth I would make it to the end. But I did not walk thinking if I was to do so it would be game over as I would lose any momentum (partially true).
I spent the last 10 miles looking for my wife and kids but could not see them. The last few miles along the embankment I felt like I was literally dragging my leg but the end did come.
I crossed the line in 4 hours, 14 minutes. Immediately I had pins and needles in my face and hands (through salt depletion and dehydration) and stumbled over the area where you have your timing chip removed and your medal awarded. I met my wife and kids and promptly burst into tears.
PAIN. PAIN. PAIN
Lying prone on the couch people that evening were calling me and popping by, congratulating me on my time, which was deemed to be respectable. I thought they were all humouring me.
And relax!
And then a strange thing happened. I felt that I had let myself down, that I had not applied myself properly. I knew that I had a runner’s DNA but I was not putting it to use. There was unfinished business that I needed to take care of.
Chapter 4: It Begins
I’m not sure whether I had the clichéd mid life crisis but apart from succeeding as a father, husband and working man I decided I needed another couple of goals to spice things up.
I found out recently that there is a funny phrase that sums up mid-life obsessions.
Supposedly ALL males of a certain age fall into one of 4 “M”’s:
• Motor cars
• Motor cycles
• Mistresses
• Marathons
I would also add cycling to this list but I guess it doesn’t work with 4 M’s and 1 C.
I decided in Autumn 2009 that I wanted to do a number of things before I was 40.
1) Play guitar in front of friends
2) Run a marathon
I am unsure as to why the notion of a marathon appealed to me but it did and I signed up to run for British Heart Foundation.
My inaugural run was on 9th August 2009. A 9:30/mile 2.5 mile run. But it was a start!
As I went through training I was enjoying my iPhone app to record my progress with Nike+. It helped me analyse my performance and I could see that training was paying dividends. I could run faster and for longer.
In November I was sporting a moustache as part of “Movember” (funny as I worked for 118118!) as well as my running attire purchased in New York 2 years prior to this but with little use in the intervening years.
Training was slow and whilst I read about training plans and the notion of tapering I did not (and still do not) follow a regimented plan.
Training for a marathon is quite time-consuming but not overly so. The hard stuff comes when you are running in the freezing cold, driving rain and wind day after day. Oh and the fact that for at least 4 weeks you are racking up over 40 miles a week (or at least that is what you should be doing as part of your training plan!).
I was also experiencing pain..I had never experienced pain anywhere before when doing exercise and this was strange. I was getting shin splints that were making it painful to walk, let alone run… things were looking bleak! It was February, 2 months before London Marathon.
On advice of work colleagues, I saw a specialist at Pure Sports Medicine in London’s Threadneedle Street (Dr Amanda Lau) and she looked at my gait, posture etc.. and recommended that I got custom made carbon fibre orthotics (insoles).
It worked and I stepped up my training. This was fortunate as the shin splints had forced me to drop down my mileage. By the end of February I was only at 11 miles maximum. By end March I was only up to 13.5 miles and it was not until the week before the marathon that I ran 20 miles in 3 hours dead (8:56 per mile).
I think that it is safe to say that I was not applying myself properly. The absence of following any semblance of a training plan and sporadic running was to make my first marathon a deeply unpleasant affair.
I found out recently that there is a funny phrase that sums up mid-life obsessions.
Supposedly ALL males of a certain age fall into one of 4 “M”’s:
• Motor cars
• Motor cycles
• Mistresses
• Marathons
I would also add cycling to this list but I guess it doesn’t work with 4 M’s and 1 C.
I decided in Autumn 2009 that I wanted to do a number of things before I was 40.
1) Play guitar in front of friends
2) Run a marathon
I am unsure as to why the notion of a marathon appealed to me but it did and I signed up to run for British Heart Foundation.
My inaugural run was on 9th August 2009. A 9:30/mile 2.5 mile run. But it was a start!
As I went through training I was enjoying my iPhone app to record my progress with Nike+. It helped me analyse my performance and I could see that training was paying dividends. I could run faster and for longer.
In November I was sporting a moustache as part of “Movember” (funny as I worked for 118118!) as well as my running attire purchased in New York 2 years prior to this but with little use in the intervening years.
Training was slow and whilst I read about training plans and the notion of tapering I did not (and still do not) follow a regimented plan.
Training for a marathon is quite time-consuming but not overly so. The hard stuff comes when you are running in the freezing cold, driving rain and wind day after day. Oh and the fact that for at least 4 weeks you are racking up over 40 miles a week (or at least that is what you should be doing as part of your training plan!).
I was also experiencing pain..I had never experienced pain anywhere before when doing exercise and this was strange. I was getting shin splints that were making it painful to walk, let alone run… things were looking bleak! It was February, 2 months before London Marathon.
On advice of work colleagues, I saw a specialist at Pure Sports Medicine in London’s Threadneedle Street (Dr Amanda Lau) and she looked at my gait, posture etc.. and recommended that I got custom made carbon fibre orthotics (insoles).
It worked and I stepped up my training. This was fortunate as the shin splints had forced me to drop down my mileage. By the end of February I was only at 11 miles maximum. By end March I was only up to 13.5 miles and it was not until the week before the marathon that I ran 20 miles in 3 hours dead (8:56 per mile).
I think that it is safe to say that I was not applying myself properly. The absence of following any semblance of a training plan and sporadic running was to make my first marathon a deeply unpleasant affair.
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