Figs, Farro & Farts.....But Fighting Fit @ 40? The Gladiators' Guide To Physical Rejuvenation. by aphrodisiologist

     So, the preparation period and first six weeks of diet and training had, all-in-all, gone pretty smoothly, which means –so they tell me- I had now achieved the base level of fitness required for the next stage of training.

     Woopee! The foundation stone had been laid, the hardest bit was behind me and, looking back, it hadn’t actually been all that bad. I now had every reason to feel confident, cocky even, about the completion of my first marathon in April.  I could already see the Queen waving encouragement and shouting ‘go on Sean’, as I sprinted past her house and turned into The Mall....my family cheering proudly as I continued, even increased my pace, the soundtrack from Chariots Of Fire or Rocky or An Officer And A Gentleman or any one of those inspiring films pounding through my headphones as I dip over the finish line in slow motion. I had done it!

     But then....with these pleasant thoughts in my head, with the finish line in sight....along came Christmas, snow and ice to cock it all up. I had, sort of, pre-empted the festive problem by ensuring that –as far as the official Marathon guides go - I had over achieved in my sixth week’s training period. In terms of distance, I was a good few weeks ahead of myself and, whilst I knew that didn’t mean I could slack off altogether, made me feel better about the inevitable slow down that the increased business and family commitment caused. Week seven and week eight were, as far as I was concerned, a write-off. My running was spasmodic and did not have any real structure to it. The diet was no better although, apart from Christmas day itself, I did manage to consume at least one of my ‘Roman’ meals each day. Fags, coffee and beer loomed larger then ever and I entered week eight a broken man, my head now filled with images of the Queen sticking two fingers up, my family turning away in disgust and the soundtrack to the old Hamlet cigar adverts playing in my ears.

     I really did believe that all my previous effort had been undone and that drastic action was called for. I had to prove to myself that the fitness had not gone altogether and decided that week nine had to begin where I had left off at the end of week six. So, on the Monday I ran the ten miles again.....considerably slower this time and with much heavier legs but, none the less, did do it. I then continued, in spite of the snow and hazardous ice, for the next two weeks, with longer than required runs. I knew, from talking to other runners and looking at the website blogs of more, that I had done well to keep going through the terrible weather. The diet was back on track also and, with continued calorie adjustments to match varying levels of training, my weights and measurements were remaining pretty constant.

     So it was with a renewed vigour and resurgent confidence, that I rushed headlong into week eleven and was, once again, at the height of my confidence, brought straight back down to earth with a big bump. It happened during what had now become a very routine and easy six or seven mile run, when after only a couple of miles my legs decided they no longer wanted to move. I stopped and rested, then resumed my run but the legs that had now acquired their own independent brain, decided to stop. And, no matter how I tried, they continued to stay stopped. I had to accept that it was not going to happen and trudged, despondently, home. I continued trudging for another couple of weeks and, once again, began to doubt my ability to complete the marathon.

     I started to read the training books I‘d housed in the toilet last year and, ‘till this point not given the attention that my diet had provided ample opportunity for. It was clear that, in an attempt, to make up for the Christmas lapses, I’d over trained which, it seems, is far more damaging than under training. I took a few days off, got some rest, ate well and had another look at the official marathon training plan. I now conceded that the author knew much more about marathons than I did and, touch wood, the decision to stick to this plan from then on seems to be working. I have followed the plan to the dot from week thirteen and finished week nineteen with a three hour run that was somewhere between eighteen and twenty miles.

     I know that the business end of my training is still ahead and there will be another very untimely test with my extreme business commitments over Easter. But I won’t let it panic me this time and once again, for now at least, I’ll remain quietly confident that I may be seeing the Queen at the end of this month!