Tim's 2012 marathon training by tnmboswell

• The 2012 Virgin London Marathon

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  Apr2920128:13 p.m.

  So here it is, the 2012 Virgin London Marathon through my eyes.

  Just one important thing to mention first.  You may well have seen in the news that a thirty year-old woman called Claire Squires died shortly before the finish of this year’s race.  Claire was a close friend of my friends Lucy and Martin, and news of the tragedy reached them on the afternoon of the race, within a couple of hours of Martin crossing the finishing line.  They were, and still are, obviously very upset by what happened, and I think the everybody who took part in the marathon -  and the whole running community at large - has been affected in their own particular way by the news.  I hope all of Claire’s family and friends can draw some sort of comfort from the wonderful tributes that have been paid to her by people donating to the Samaritans in Claire’s memory.  At the time of writing, her fundraising has reached £880,000 – with more than a million pounds pledged when Gift Aid is factored in.  If you’d like to donate in Claire’s memory, please visit http://www.justgiving.com/Claire-Squires2 .

  Out of respect, I’d thought very seriously about not posting a race blog.  After all, chasing a personal best and talking about my day isn’t important in the grand scheme of things.  However, I do feel I owe it to everyone who’s supported me in so many ways over the past four months to let them know how things went.  More of that support later, but for now, here’s my marathon story.

  

  The latest weather forecasts had been predicting a sunny start with showers later in the day ... far better than those of earlier in the week.  When Martin came to call for me just before 7.30am, it was a cool but beautifully clear morning.  Perfect.  We walked to Charing Cross station and caught the train to Maze Hill station.  The walk up Maze Hill itself seemed as long and steep as ever, but we arrived at the green start just before 8.30am.  Even though this was more than 1¼ hours before the start of the race for the elite man and masses, there’s always plenty to see and do and the time went quite quickly.

  

  With bags duly dropped off and endless toilet visits made, we got into our starting pens just after 9.35am and we set off at 9.45am prompt. Setting off from green start really is fantastic.  There’s the chance of some celeb spotting (Gordon Ramsay amongst others), the loo queues are comparatively short (although I’m sure some of the ladies present did smile at the rare sight of men queuing for the toilet), and you’re over the start line really quickly – not much more than a minute in my case.

  The first few miles were all about keeping the pace down.  This actually was a little bit easier than it had been in previous years.  Only three weeks earlier, I’d had to stop short of completing my longest training run of 24 miles due to IT Band Syndrome (see previous posts for all the gory details!).  The prospect of this recurring, together with lots of phantom knee and leg pain in the week before the marathon, made me determined to take things easy early on.  So it was a fairly conserative start to the race - ironic bearing in mind the fact I passed Shadow Chancellor Ed Balls not long before the green and blue starts merged. 

  I’d decided to keep as many motivational mantras in my head as possible, and I began repeating them over and over from fairly early on in proceedings.  Looking back, those that were really helpful included “You’ve done the training.  Now this is YOUR day”.  There was the “Endless River of Kindness” video on YouTube (see previous posts), and there was this mantra, which had been posted on my Facebook wall the previous day by a fellow runner.

   

  What’s really useful about having run the London marathon before is that you know what to expect.  Of course, there were a few small changes from previous years, and seeing (and hearing) the Olympic test event at the Royal Artillery Barracks at Woolwich was one of 2012’s early highlights.  This had come just a short time after a wonderful view from the roundabout over the A2 towards the Olympic Village on the other side of the Thames.  It was in the first few miles that I realised that things were warming up a little – I’d not expected to feel quite so warm so early in the race!

  I blogged after last year’s marathon that although lots of people don’t seem to like the first half of the race, I really do!  The real suffering’s a long way off, the atmosphere’s fantastic, and the pubs blasting out music, people leaning out of windows, and general carnival atmosphere is just as prevalent as in the second half of the race.  I found myself really looking forward to hearing the drummers who make all the noise they possibly can, beneath a flyover after about 5 miles.  They didn’t disappoint!  There was the brass band playing the theme to “Family Guy”, there was a sound system pumping out “Come on Eileen”, with both runners and supporters clapping their hands above their heads.  And there was The Cutty Sark - back on the route this year - and passing it again after 6 or so miles was brilliant.  Equally brilliant, as ever, was the almost frenzied support in the Greenwich area – just a sign of things to come! 

  I was happy with how things were going so far – no sign of IT Band troubles, the phantom knee pains proving to have been just that, and I was just about where I wanted to be, pace wise.

  From the Cutty Sark, it was a matter of counting down the miles to Tower Bridge - not long before the half way point. I’d worked out a hydration and nutrition plan for the race, and stuck to it religiously.  A few mouthfuls of water at 3 and 7 miles, a bottle of Lucozade sport at 5 and 10 miles, and 4 Jelly Babies at 4, 8 and 12 miles.  Odd though it sounds, just keeping on track with eating and drinking gave me plenty to think about!

  Tower Bridge was terrific.  Nearly half way, time to cross onto the north bank of the river, crowds everywhere, everything on track and family not too far away.  I saw my Mum and Dad at around the halfway point on The Highway, and my sister Emma, brother-in-law Dean, nieces Megan and Molly, and nephew Daniel at just after 14 miles.  It’s not just the support when you see family and friends that drives you on, it’s the prospect of seeing them that’s a huge boost too.

  I crossed the half way point in a time of 01:57:57, a couple of minutes ahead of 4 hour pace.  However, if you’d asked me at that point  whether I’d make my sub-4 goal, I’d have said no.  I was feeling quite hot, a bit tired, and buffer of 2 minutes didn’t feel enough, especially as I’d not completed that 24 mile run.  22 miles was a good as it had got, and that was back in early March. 

  Now’s a good a time as any to make a confession.  I broke the golden rule.  The golden rule says “don’t try anything new on race day”.  And I did.  I’d previously tried some energy products called “Shot Bloks” for taste, but not while out running.  They caught my eye again at the Marathon Expo this year, so I bought some.  Trying ‘nothing new on race day’ really does take in every element of the race.  Clothes, food, drink, breakfast, shoes, socks – the lot.  On the day of Expo, I came back with some Shot Blocks and tried them while out on a 4 mile run.  But that was as far as the testing had gone.  You’re supposed to test any drinks, gels and sweets that you’re planning to use on race day on a  long run.  Ideally, more than one long run.  But I broke the golden rule and took Shot Bloks at miles 14, 17, 20 and 23.  It was win or bust.  At least in terms of energy products! 

  Thinking about the route before the race, I’d realised that I had a least favourite part.  It’s the section from about 14.5 to 16.5 miles.  The crowds thin out a bit, the body starts to feel the distance just that little bit more, you’re still 10 or so miles from the finish, the road gets narrow and keeping your own pace becomes that bit more difficult.  At this point, a fellow runner asked me whether we were on course for a sub 4 hour finish.  He seemed pleased to hear that we were, and we chatted for a while.  It was his first marathon, so I shared with him my genuine belief that this was the toughest part of the course.  “Just dig deep and get in with it”, he concluded.  He was spot on.  And at least we weren’t alone in feeling the distance – this was the section where we passed Olympic athlete Iwan Thomas. 

  Many people find the section through Canary Wharf the toughest, but that’s one of those sections I really enjoy.  Of course, it’s a bit disorientating as you weave around the tall buildings, but their height really does serve to hem in the atmosphere.  I found this a tiny bit claustrophobic the first time I ran London – and indeed this is where I stopped to walk that yer.  I was more than happy to embrace the noise this time around, though, and by now we were 18 miles down – only 8 miles to go.  It felt good to keep on running.

  There’s another quieter section of the course once you head out of the Isle of Dogs, but there was another landmark to look forward to.  Last time around, I got really bad cramp at about mile 20 (Poplar High Street), and had to stop to walk.  My pace was holding up, though, and I passed that point feeling for the first time that finishing in under 4 hours was a possibility.  I wasn’t going to let myself do any mental arithmetic until 20.6 miles though.  Then I’d be able work out a ‘worst possible scenario’ for the last 6 miles of the race.

  It was somewhere beyond that ‘cramp point’ that I felt the first twinge in my leg.  I can’t remember which leg, and I can’t remember exactly where on the route it happened, but there was the tiniest, tiniest hint of cramp.  Only 6 miles to do.  That’s an hour.  Keep going.

  It was time to see Emma et al at just over 21 miles, and I took the decision to stop very briefly to give everyone a quick hug and say hi.  That’s fine after 14 miles.  Less so after 21.  As I came to start running again, I felt both calves cramp up, and feared I’d have to stop and stretch them out within just a few yards of starting again.  But the pain got a little better, and I carried on. 

  As well as the section starting at Narrow Street, other tough parts of the course in previous years have been through The City and through the tunnel that leads from Lower Thames Street onto The Embankment.  Walking through both of these sections really hurt before – both physically and mentally – as that’s where I’d had to wave goodbye to the finishing time I‘d really wanted.  Conversely, being able to carry on running through miles 23 and 24, knowing that I just needed to hold things together to finish quicker than 4 hours, felt absolutely fantastic.  Above the road near the Lucozade drink station at 24 miles there was a banner.  It said “2.5 miles and you’re part of history”.  I may have harrumphed a little as I walked beneath that in previous years.  This time around, I nearly burst with pride.

  The cramp was getting worse as I emerged from the tunnel onto The Embankment.  I was fine as long as I was running in a straight line.  However – slow down, speed up, move left, dodge right and the cramp would take over as a sort of reminder that it was lurking.  You’d think that running at a consistent pace in a straight line would be easy, wouldn’t you?  Oh no.  This is the last few miles of a marathon where anything – and I mean anything – could happen.  People can – and do – stop running right in front of you at a moment’s notice.   Slow down – dodge around – ouch.  A water bottle, tossed to one side, can appear in the road.  Lift leg, take a small jump over it, hope for all you’re worth that the cramp doesn’t take over as you land.  Pedestrians crossing under supervision in the road.  Road narrows, pace slows, try not think about the fact that both legs are now sporadically cramping from heel to thighs.  Ignore it.  'Pain is temporary, your finishing time is permanent', said one mantra that I’d seen before the race.  Another helpful mantra was – almost literally – shoved into my face over the last few miles.  The back of someone’s running t-shirt read “There’ll be days when you don’t think you can run a marathon.  There’ll be a lifetime of knowing that you have”.  Adjusting that slightly in my heads towards finishing in under 4 hours, I tried to ignore the cramps and carried on.

  I finally let myself properly believe “I could do this” as I ran along The Embankment.  And that’s exactly what I mouthed to my Mum and Dad as I saw them for a second time.  By this point, I knew that even 10 minute miles would get me home in under 4 hours.  I was slowing down, I knew that, and I was one bad move away from cramp taking over, but even a little of walking (if needed) would be ok.  However, except for hugs, kisses and a quick ‘pit stop’ somewhere in Greenwich, I’d not stopped running and certainly hadn’t walked.  I had no intention of doing so now.  What also helped was that I knew what was in store.  Unintentionally, I’d walked most of the last couple of miles of the route the evening before, before meeting up with the support clan for pre-race pasta.  I knew roughly where the 40k and 25 mile points would be, and was able to tick off the landmarks I’d seen the previous evening one by one.

  I also used the disappointment of previous years to motivate me.  The first time I tackled the marathon, I remember passing Big Ben as the clock struck 2pm, I knew that this was the time the BBC TV coverage went off the air, and at the time this felt like a big blow.  This time, I turned right into Parliament Square with the clock showing something like 1.34pm. 

  As ever, Birdcage Walk felt long, but this time there was something to aim for, rather than just finishing.  Knowing that I was going to hit that elusive target made everything worth it.  Worth each of the 75 training runs since Boxing Day.  Each of the 685 miles covered.  And every single bit of the 108 hours, 41 minutes and 11 seconds on the road.  

  As I turned right into The Mall, I allowed myself to start celebrating.  The cramps were still there, but I knew I could walk if I had to.  Not a chance.  I think the first clenched fist came at Buckingham Palace.  It had grown to a full on celebration with both arms up in the air by the time I crossed the line.

  

  I was cramped, sunburned, I’d got a lovely friction burn from my waist pack, and I found out the next day that a toenail had rubbed and I’d bled all over one of my socks.  But pain was temporary.  The satisfaction of being a sub-4 hour runner is permanent.  And so is the inner smile that’s just bubbled to the surface.

   

  I began my mentioning that I wanted to write this blog as a way of thanking everyone who’s supported me in so many ways over the last few months. 

  The list could go on for ever, so let me just say thank YOU if you’ve helped me with sponsorship, encouraging words on Facebook and Twitter, donating prizes, running with me, listening to me banging on about what part of my body is hurting in any particular week and, in my family’s case, spending time and money coming to London to support me.

  Thanks in particular to Helen and everyone from Virgin Money, without whom I wouldn’t have been running the marathon this year in the first place.  Also to Abz from Aqua and Malcolm from Cafe Catalan for their generosity, and to Simon at The Sign Works in Leamington for printing my running vest.  

  To everyone - your support helped me through an amazing day. and at the time of writing, has helped me to raise nearly £600 for the BBC Coventry & Warwickshire Myton Nurse Appeal – nearer £700 when you factor in gift aid.

  Thank you!

  Here's to the next one .... 

   

   

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  Comments (2)

  • Jenny1961 'What a fabulous read Tim and congratulations on reaching your desired goal! I really enjoyed reading your account. I could relax and just relive the race all over again. I agree about rediscovering the delights of seeing the Cutty Sark all over again. By the way I use shot bloks now and prefer them to gels but made a big mistake at the Milton Keynes marathon yesterday. I left my bum bag zip open for ease of access as my fingers were so cold and numb they could barely function. I had taken the bloks out of the wrapper. Unfortunately they had congealed into one big lump due to getting wet- more like shot boulders than bloks! Lesson learnt. Not sure actually if they are any better than jelly babies which I used to use.....' added 30th Apr 2012

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  • tnmboswell 'Thanks Jen! Sounds like you need a knife and fork for your shot bloks ;) Have just seen about your amazing couple of weeks on FB - huuuuge congrats, you must be delighted! ' added 30th Apr 2012

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