Dragoon Road, Deptford. To this very day, I never knew the name of this road! This was the road at the top of which, as a kid I would stand and watch the London Marathon all those years ago. Dad working nights and the rest of the household making the most of weekend lie ins, I remember sneaking out on those April Sunday mornings to go and watch the thousands of people run past the bottom of this road on our estate. Little did I know that years later fate would have me 1) living in the South again, and 2) I’d actually join this band of runners making their way through the streets of London.
On my continued quest to qualify for the holy grail of marathon running; the Boston Marathon, I was on the lookout for another flat fast qualifying race for Spring 2013. With a few under our belt already, we were on the lookout for a race that none of Team Bones had yet ran and so it was that we all put our names down for the Brighton Marathon. It ticked all the boxes: it was a Boston Qualifier (BQ); it was in the UK; the course was reported to be flat and fast, and it was in April which meant that if I did get my BQ there was plenty of time before the Boston ballot opened up in early September for the April 2014 race. Yet, as most UK marathon runners will confess to, we’d all also put our names in the ballot for the London Marathon out of habit, knowing full well that our chances of getting in would be slim to none anyway, but hey you never know right!
As October 2012 approached, we (Team Bones) already started putting in some base miles before the real training began. We all had it in our head that we’d only be running Brighton. I mean, the chances of getting in through the London Marathon ballot are always slim at best due to it’s popularity. It is the second biggest marathon in the world, pipped only by the New York marathon in terms of runners – around 46,000 compared to London’s 37,000. I had been lucky enough to have run it back in 2008 (marathon #2) for the Scope charity, but my other 2 buddies in Team Bones were still annually trying to get into this Bucket List run.
WHAM!! it seems luck was on my side (or not depending on how you look at it!) as only my ballot place came through in October. This was to the relief of the rest of Team Bones as it meant I was going to have to run 2 marathons in the space of 7 days! It never even crossed my mind to defer the run for another year. I instead saw it as a new challenge. You hear of runners doing it all the time, doing 7 in 7 days or 12 in 12 months; or some seemingly crazy combination of X number of marathons in Y days and all in the name of helping to raise money for charity. So how hard could 2 in the space of a week be right?!
The plan in my head was going to be this: I would treat Brighton as my A race and then try to ‘enjoy’ London the week after as I had an inkling that the 6 days recovery would not be enough for me to try and go hard again so soon. If all went well, I’d hack 6 minutes or more off my PB (3:11 – Frankfurt) to come in under 3:05 for the BQ and then ‘celebrate’ by going nice and slowly in London to really soak up the atmosphere. After deciding a few years ago that it would be fabulous to travel the world and complete the World Marathon Majors Series (then, comprising of 5 races taking in New York, London, Chicago, Boston and Berlin but in 2013 to have Tokyo added as a 6th), my attentions turned to how I was going to get into Boston.
As with all the other Majors, you can get into Boston either via a charity place, through guaranteed places that companies such as www.209events.com offer or through their ballot. However, getting in the ballot isn’t just a case of putting your name in the hat and hoping for the best. You’ve also got to have run a qualifying time to even be able to apply for Boston. For me, this has always been the goal: to prove to myself that I can train myself to be able to run a BQ. My first ever marathon was back in 2007 in NY, coming in at 4:09. To get into Boston, I would need to get to the finish line of a qualifying marathon 1 hour and 5 minutes or more quicker than that first 26.2!
Training wise, I was going to be sensible and address my strength both in terms of the running itself but also making sure I was putting in the time with strengthening and conditioning my body. Taking the day of the Brighton Marathon (14th April 2013) as a starting point, I then worked backwards in the diary to give me a start date to the training.
As we all know, training over the winter of 2012 was testing at times. We had some of the hardest conditions to train in, with the snow, wind and rain making us wince just a little even when we looked out of the window, let alone head out to run around in it in shorts and a t shirt (or rather looking like the Michelin man as was the case with me)!
Training went well and we were coming to the glorious taper but then I must have picked up a niggle at the Reading Half marathon on the 17th March. According to my training log, the left leg just wasn’t right from then on. Even with some physio, plenty of rest and skipping a few of the last training sessions, I was still not 100% happy with it as we headed down to race Brighton the month after.
At every marathon I run, I like to jog down to the finish area on Race Day eve morning to get a mental picture to help me focus for the race ahead. Brighton was no different, and our hotel had been purposefully picked with a view of the finish on Madeira Drive to minimise the time it would take me to crawl back to freshen up after the race. Even on the morning of Race Day eve, I knew my leg wasn’t 100%.
To pull out on the eve of the race would have been heartbreaking for so many reasons. First and foremost, because I’d feel like I’d let so many people down. So many people that support you in so many ways as you clock up all those miles in training. Then after so many months of effort, to not race would feel like a massive wasted effort. Then there was also the charity (British Red Cross) that I’d decided to run for too. I’d feel like I had cheated those that had sponsored me to run, had I pulled out. The decision was made. I was going to race Brighton, get around London the week after and then get fixed up properly.
The next time I would run would now be in 24 hours time, joining the others at Withdean Park for our start. Between now and then, we had as little planned as possible to maximise rest time on Race Day Eve. Not that there weren’t many stalls at the Expo that we could have spent lots of time (and money!) trawling around, but time off our feet is always preferred when you’ve 26.2 miles to run the morning after.
After the expo, I headed to the Holiday Inn as the Teenage Cancer Trust had asked me to talk to all of their runners at their pre-race pasta party. Giving the talk really drove it home as to why I couldn’t pull out of Brighton nor London: Running would help raise money for charities such as the Teenage Cancer Trust and the British Red Cross, who use the money to help so many people in times of need.
Team Bones and a few other friends running Brighton all met up for one final carb rich dinner before retiring to bed nice and early. Race kit was all laid out, checklists were double-checked and it was time to try and get some shut eye before the race. However, a combination of nerves and excitement, and I must admit a little doubt, all meant that it wasn’t the best night of sleep I’ve had before a marathon.
Arriving at Withdean Park in plenty of time, us mere mortals were treated to The Kenyan show. In their blue training shell suits, the athletes and their pacers warmed up from about 45 mins before the race. Up and down the incline of Withdean park, they zipped as if the hill wasn’t even there. Awe inspiring to watch as I warmed up http://takeachallenge.org/Why-Warm-Up a little more gently to conserve energy!!
As the gun went off at 9am, the true elites quickly disappeared off into the distance as I tried to settle down into my target race pace. The route would have us heading back down to the seafront, turning left to run past our hotel, out to Ovingdean, back along the seafront all the way to the powerstation and then back to the finish just past the Brighton Big Wheel, on Madeira Drive.
All was going to plan and my average was around the 7 min mile mark, which would bring me in under 3:05. Drinking regularly, taking on the gels every 40 mins or so and feeling good and relaxed until about mile 19.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/304619250
Until this mile marker, everything was feeling good but I think a combination of the warmer weather than we were used to training in and miscalculating my carbs for the race meant I bonked hard. Not so hard that I stopped and couldn’t move any more, but hard enough that I remember having to slow down as my body had no choice but to switch to using fat as energy. This and me trying with all my might to maintain pace reduced me to feeling like I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My eyes just wanted to roll into the back of the head and I even remember having to shut my eyes for the Power Station section of the run. The left leg niggle thankfully hadn’t reared it’s ugly head over the course of the run, but by mile 21 I knew my fuelling mistake had cost me my BQ.
Coming into the last 800 metres of the race, I spotted the fluorescent green wigged FMP and we exchanged a look which told her in an instant everything I was feeling: that I knew I’d not hit my BQ but wouldn’t give up; that I was angry for making a mistake in my A race; that I was knackered like never before; that I wanted to finish as fast as possible; that I needed a bloody great big hug.
Tears of relief, anger, happiness, sadness, tiredness and elation were already welling up as I crossed the finish line, so it was no surprise they erupted as I finally got to FMP with my medal in tow.
Having come in at 3:15, I was not a happy bunny knowing that it all went to pot in those closing miles. The tanks were well and truly empty by the time I got to the finish line, so on the day I had ran the best I could. Just gotta tweak the old fuelling strategy and not make the same mistakes again. I’d miscalculated how many grams of carbs I’d need on the run and paid the price as there was just nothing left to help me sustain the pace for those lost 6 or so miles.
As I approach the elusive 3hr barrier of the marathon, the margins for error have become even more narrow. You’re trying to run at such a pace that you’re burning up energy faster, so need to keep a keen eye on your carb intake. Hydration and electrolyte is even more important, as any dehydration could come between you and being able to push to the very end of a race. Out of these 3 components of race nutrition, I had nailed the latter 2. Unfortunately, I’d miscalculated the first and it had cost me a BQ.
Team Bones regrouped for some much deserved Fish and Chips on the seafront before we headed our separate ways. 1/3 of the Team had achieved a PB, the other a time he’d not expected because of so many injuries in the lead up to the race and me my 2nd fastest marathon time to date. Getting to the marathon start in one piece is tough enough, but then you’ve got to have so many things go right for you on the day of the race too. The marathon distance is unforgiving and little mistakes/weaknesses can become magnified several times over by the end. Another lesson learnt at marathon number 12.
As soon as we got back home on the evening, it was all about recovering as quick as possible for London the following weekend. Straight into one of many ice baths in the following days, coupled with hobbling around London to train clients and turbo sessions at home to loosen up the legs. Not a pretty sight and I must admit a little worrying as the 2nd marathon in 7 days fast approached.
The day after the Brighton marathon, on the 15th April, I came home to find FMP in tears. It didn’t sink in until I saw the videos: Someone had set off bombs at the Boston Marathon. We were both in utter shock and disbelief as the news came through. That such a cowardly attack could have happened at all is so sad. Yet to see it happen at a running event, an event to which thousands of runners, whom I feel will always be my fellow runners, made it all the more painful to watch. Then it dawned on us: had I been quick enough to qualify back in 2012, FMP and I would have been at the Boston Marathon 2013. We were not the only ones to think that either, as we gradually received texts/emails/phone calls in the following hours to check that we’d not been at the event. Luckily for us, we weren’t.
In an instant, all the aches and pains I had been worried about suddenly paled into insignificance. There was now no doubt in my mind as to whether I’d be running VLM or not. I now wanted to run more than ever, to join my fellow runners in a show of solidarity against the terrorists. A figurative ‘up yours’, if you will, to anyone that thought they could intimidate us to stay away from the Marathon.
For VLM2013, my sisters came down to watch me run for the first time ever. It was really cool to finally be able to share the marathon build up with them, from taking them on a whistle stop tour of the expo at the ExCel centre on then knowing that I’d be seeing their faces on the course!! It was also lovely to finally meet more of #TeamMotivation in person. Both @Kaz_Wright and @Anth_Hubbard were running VLM2013 as their first ever marathons. After good luck hugs, it was time to set off to our respective start pens and get running!
I’d promised FMP to go easy on this run, after bemoaning my self-inflicted niggle that had Brighton has now resulted in my left leg feeling about 60% normal. Coupled with the overall general fatigue that the rest of the body was still feeling from the previous marathon, I had said I’d see how the first mile of the race went and then either pull back or carry on depending on how the body held up.
At the start line, the temperature was already creeping up and so I discarded the long sleeve compression top underneath the singlet. Lining up about 20m from the line, a gong sounded to mark the start of the 30s silence. All 37,000 of us stood united in complete silence, thinking about what had happened just 6 days previously. We were going to be running for Boston and all those innocent people that were involved. We were going to be running for every supporter and runner out there. No matter what, we were going to finish this race for all those that couldn’t.
As the gun went off, we sped off over the starting mat to the sound of a thousand beeps as everyone started their watches. The first few miles are normally pretty emotionally charged, as you realise what all those months of training have been building up towards. I love looking over my shoulder just briefly to see the swathes of people as a big beaming grin breaks out on my face. You just can’t help it, as we make our way through the initial miles that take us out of Blackheath and the long way round towards Greenwich.
The leg seemed to be holding up to the pace for the time being, as we whizzed along at around 7 min mile pacing. However, the body had some surprises in store somewhere between Miles 5 & 6. Having felt ok up to this point, the intention was to continue at this pace for as long as possible and then pull back as and when the body started complaining. At some level, I had the stubborn (and foolish) notion that if I could hold the 7 min mile pacing, I could possibly go for the BQ again just 6 days after my Brighton attempt. What was actually going to happen was that the fatigue that my body still carried and hadn’t had enough time to recover from would only rear it’s ugly head and slow me down.
Unfortunately, between miles 5 & 6, the calves began to really protest. The kind of protest where you feel like if you push too hard then they would explode. They’d already been tight before I’d lined up for VLM. They were now threatening to ‘go’, which reduced my stride to something more akin to a quick jog. I suddenly wasn’t able to fully push my legs behind me and hence follow through with a knee lift and landing. Instead, it felt like more of a shuffle which reduced my pace to some of the slowest running I’d done in a long while. Far slower than even my slowest long run pace.
Seeing family and friends really did help to lift me during the course of the run (this was no longer a race for me). Then to add to that the wall of noise we runners were treated to by the hundreds of thousands of supporters along the course, it did really feel like you were being carried along at times. Asides from family and friends, I don’t remember many other faces as such as they passed at a blur. However, just thinking about the sheer noise makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
My toughest point was when we reached Canary Wharf. After being reduced to a limping shuffle, the knees beginning to really ache as the force of every foot strike began to really take their toll, I remember slowing down to a walk as the pain was so severe. There was energy in the tank as I’d made doubly sure to stock up on carbs (2 before the start, and then 1 every 30 minutes or so to try and hit that 60g/hour marker) this time round but frustratingly the legs just weren’t going to let me push them with any kind of push off that vaguely resembled a more forceful leg cycle. Walking and drawing on the energy from the crowd for 30s or so, fellow runners ran past me patting me on the back, shouting my name too. ‘GO PANMAN’!!
Knowing that we were into the last 6 or so miles made the pain all the more painful. Normally, it’s at this point that the race normally starts. Yet on this day, the race was already over. I’d known that going into this race it was going to be tough, but I still had 6 miles to go and my legs didn’t feel good. I knew that if I tried to run normally, either the calves were going to go or I was going to cause myself even more damage than I’d already done. It was going to be a case of minimising the pain by shuffling at best and grinding it out to the finish.
Finally coming along the Embankment with Parliament off in the distance and the London Eye peeking out through the trees, the home straight was in sight. If the cheering had been deafening before, it now seemed to have reached even higher heights as operation shuffle continued. According to my stats, I was passed by 1251 people in the last 7km but at the time, I couldn’t have cared less. What I was engrossed in was playing off the crowd, thanking as many race volunteers as possible along the way and feeding off the energy and buzz in those closing miles.
http://www.runpix.info/arace8/00/lon13/finord_one.php?id=8170&ad=000%7C008&dt=42&ev=lon13&ot=bn2_
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/304619326
Our last pre-arranged meeting/cheering point had been at Westminster on the right hand side of the road, but FMP and my sisters were nowhere to be seen as I ran into Parliament Square. The bright green wig was nowhere to be seen on the right, so I then turned to my left and was so happy to see them standing on a grassy knoll waving and screaming. The tears had already started to well up with less than a mile to go!!
I remember seeing the sweet sight of Buckingham Palace coming into view, turning our backs on it and having the last long 200m stretch of the Mall before us. Time to suck it up and enjoy the crowds one more time as we approached the finish line. The clock didn’t matter. The pain didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was to just be thankful to have been able to run, as I put hand on heart and crossed the finish line in 4:09.
The next priority was now to begin recovery as soon as possible, as I knew my legs were in a bad way, in particular the left peg. Medal in tow & picking up the kit bag, even just hobbling along towards WhiteHall was already proving very uncomfortable. Normally, I wouldn’t begin to feel the aches and pains until later on in the evening, so I knew damage had been done.
As I’d ran for the British Red Cross, I made my way to their reception and was greeted by the family and friends and a massive cheer. They even had showers available, which was a godsend seeing as we were meant to be heading straight off for a slap up meal and I hadn’t fancied sitting in a restaurant in all that sweaty/sticky gear.
Had I not been running for the British Red Cross, had my family and friends not come to support me, had it not been VLM only a week after the Boston bombing, I probably wouldn’t have ran. I probably shouldn’t have ran. However, I’m glad I did the 2 in 2, but I can safely say I’ll never do it again. As I sit here after 4 weeks of intense physio and only cross training during that time, I can look back and be proud but at the time it was about the toughest marathon I can say I’ve done so far and during the recovery my legs really did feel like they were broken. My hat is well and truly off for those that the likes of #10in10 or #30in30 or some crazy combination of runs in as many days!! Don't even get me started on Eddie Izzard!
I shall never again complain about having to run just the 1!! RIght now, I'm relishing the thought of coming back even stronger for the next one.
