12 months running log….

…and finally here is my belated running log for 2013/14, possibly the least yearly mileage I have put in since my return to running/multisport in 2002. Whilst I only logged a miserly 1,228 kilometres of running, I still managed to complete the Colworth marathon, Snowdonia Marathon, Powerman Zofingen Duathlon and a World Record for 12 hours running indoors on a treadmill. So, whilst he miles were low, there was some quality stuff in there. That said, if you extract the quality effort which accounts for 420km of racing, I only trained for 808km last year…

The winning shoe, if that’s what you can call it was the Inov8 X Talon 190s. This was my third pair and I once again felt very comfortable in them although initially I found the heel tabs were too high and caused problems with my Achilles tendons. i used them to good effect throughout the year and raced in them at the worlds in Zofingen. Sadly however i have worn one of the lugs which is consistent with my current forefoot strike. In all, they have covered 232.2 of my kilometres, about 1/5th of my total running. They were however only just ahead of my Inov8 192s with 231.6 km to their name. In third were my Newton Distance with 192.4km.

In summary then, hardly a vintage year for total crop, but a fine vintage none the less with a 7th place at the worlds and my second Guinness World Record.JC 12 hour record


Marauding Scots held up by the wall

Somewhere between leaving for London this year and my overdue arrival at the finish line, I was asked how many marathons I had completed and had taken this extended time to consider my answer. Prior to last year, the question had always been “Have you done THE marathon” and it had always been a thorn in my side that I had not. Obviously, the Thornborough in the side had been a reason or excuse for several years, but last year I laid that particular ghost to rest too. I had done many marathons and, at last, had done THE marathon too! This year, therefore, I had greater expectations. My running had been slightly better, although still lacking in consistency, but, more importantly, the Achilles heel which are my calf muscles had remained pretty much injury free.

A strong finish from Greg at Oakley did not dampen my enthusiasm for round 2 this year and, so confident was I, a hastily arranged footie match and brisk walk on the Beacons was an almost acceptable taper. Last year I had fussed and worried my way through the final days, this year I was relaxed and happy, despatching Dave off to collect my race number and chip and enjoying a pre race lazy day in London with mum and bbq with friends.

At 22:15 on Saturday evening I left West London and consciously started my pre race focus ready for THE marathon. I had just transferred my running kit from weekend bag to overnight bag and was mentally checking the contents. So much for my pre race focus, I had forgotten to pack my contact lenses and would be unable to literally focus on race day! Not a good start and I spent the journey wondering if I was about to pay a high price for my relaxing day.

I was! To dampen my spirits further, I arrived at close to midnight to find my hotel room ‘filled’ with a certain gentleman. The twin room turned out to be not only a double, but a double about the size of your average single. The bed was similarly scaled and, with no other room at the inn, the less than pleasant prospect of sharing became a reality. Well Mr Pepper, what’s the worst that can happen? To make sure it didn’t, I quickly laid down some ground rules. Dave however duly supplied both race number and contact lens case to allow mine to ‘rest’ for the night and therefore it seemed quite harsh to relegate him to the floor. My contact lenses were to get more sleep than I!

At best, I dozed through the night but, to be honest, I never sleep well pre race. I wasn’t about to let on though and highlighted Dave’s unfair use of 90% of the bed, his extraordinarily tuneless nightly breathing routine and, of course, his less than appealing boat race (well we were in East London) at 6am or any other time come to that. I believe that he replied similarly. We both also cursed the less than savoury odour which we had put down to each other before realising that the drains were not up to the task either. Morning greetings were made in an appropriately deep and manly voice just in case there had been any inappropriate contact in the night!

Breakfast preceded the final preparations and we both watched the elite race starts on the tv. We now had 45 minutes to reach our own start lines and bade each other farewell and good luck on the common. I finished my prep alongside the MK team and joined the queue to hand in my bag. Co worker Debs passed by and I was not long in my ‘pen’ when I heard Dee’s call. We shouted our best wishes over the hubbub and I settled down to the final 20 minutes of anxious wait.

It was already warmer than last year and so I continued to drink my electrolyte drink and ate my banana whilst trying to stay as shaded as possible. We cheered the wheelchairs away, took a final leak on the grass, threw away unwanted food and drink and allowed ourselves to be entertained by the commentator – anything to help pass the time. Time passed remarkably quickly and on the hooter I started my watch, bade my neighbours good luck and jogged over the timing mats.

The down side of the ‘good for age’ field is that we start immediately behind the ‘celebrities’ and this year they seemed more numerous than ever, one group spreading across the whole road. For the 2 hour 30 men this is really something they could do without and at least one runner was tripped whilst trying to negotiate the chaos. A few choice words were also exchanged. To redress the balance slightly I spoke to Sally Gunnell and wished her well.

I got into my stride quite quickly thereafter but tried to hold myself back. The opening miles are very fast if you allow them to be (just ask Greg) and any over use of energy systems will be paid for later on. I took pace for 3 miles with an MK runner but used a brief surge to draw alongside and have a chat with Elvis who, as per last year, was running just ahead. Now, I’ve done some research since last year’s humiliation and most reports suggest that Elvis takes drugs. A few also suggest that he is dead but I don’t believe them for this is the second year I have seen him at London! I also had to follow a huge Scot wearing the most uncomfortable looking national dress on what was already becoming an extremely hot day. I did try to chat but couldn’t understand a word he said! Our conversation was a succession of “Pardon?”, “Say again?” “Eh, what?” etc…until breathing required me to give up hope of successful communication.

The miles were slowly passing by and, encouragingly, I was on schedule but still hadn’t settled in. The prospect of seeing the girls at 9 miles stopped me from settling down and I therefore gave in on early focus, concentrating instead on using each and every water stop and consuming a gel every 4 – 5 miles. I try to discipline myself to running the blue line (shortest route) but, on approaching the pre arranged corner, I moved out from the inside and immediately spied the Olney Runners banner. The screams and high pitched squeals of delight confirmed successful observation – the girls were quite vocal too!

Encouraged by my progress (estimate 60 – 63 mins to OR corner, actual 61 mins) and delighted to see the support crew, I was now able to settle in a rhythm. Sadly, however, at exactly the same spot as last year, I felt the initial strains in my left calf muscle. Refusing to believe that it would happen twice in the same spot I concentrated on my running action and continued to do so until half way. Half way so soon? In reality the time was not passing as quickly as I would have liked but I did cross the line at 1 hour 30 mins…bang on for an even split 3 hours.

No girls at the pre arranged 14 left me a little depressed however I concentrated on upping the tempo slightly to try and get to 20 miles with a spare minute. The thought of having to do a final 10km in 40 mins was beginning to feel beyond me and as I ran into the docklands I was beginning to feel the heat. On some parts of the course the air was completely still, had already been consumed by the several hundred runners in front of me, and was still being consumed by the 100s of thousands of cheering supporters. Despite keeping my heart rate low I was struggling for breath.

Just short of 17 I saw Greg up ahead and realised just how fast he must have been out of the blocks for me to not see him until now. I quickly evaluated my options. I could sacrifice any hope of a sub 3 hour and sit comfortably behind him, confident of taking him on the sprint finish. I could keep my current pace, slowly draw passed him and he could tag on leaving me to do all the work, beating me on the sprint finish. I could cruise by and destroy any ambitions he may still have by putting in a quick 3 miles and leave him dispirited which would also leave me with just a quick 10km to get that elusive (for 18 years) sub 3. Before I could decide, a drunken bystander shouted “Come on Olney Runners” and then, as if seeing double, shouted “Come on the other Olney Runner!” Greg looked back.

Option 3 it was then, although I did ask after Greg’s welfare without hanging on for the answer! I upped my heart rate from 152 to 162 and put in not 3, but 5 miles, at least feeling as good as one can in such conditions and after such distance. As arranged, the girls were just before 22 and I took out my final gel, depositing my belt with them. Their cheers encouraged me further and, on an Olney Runners adrenaline surge, I upped my heart to 165.

This was it then and, at 22, I dug in alongside a girl with the cry “There’s a sub 3 hour to be had here!”. She answered in broad Scots and so I introduced her to tam o’shanter who was just hanging on. They conversed in a frightening concoction of gesticulations, spittle and battle cries and I viewed the muscle bound, hairy torso with some fear – she’d done well to get this far! Almost simultaneously the marauding Scots hit the wall and fell away leaving me to a final two miles of OR powered 165 before my energy levels began to falter also. Suddenly, every step became more difficult. My quads lost the power to lift my legs and I had to literally will each step out one at a time. The final two miles were going to hurt but I was determined not to put on a similar showing to last year’s dismal display. I also didn’t know where Greg was.

With 1.5 to go I tried to push again – it’s only a BFT for heaven’s sake! This was not total collapse, thankfully, but, at Big Ben, I knew I had missed the 3 hour slot. Trying to keep my eyes open in case the girls had made it to the finish, I hung on to my group and pushed for the line. 3 hours 1 minute 40 seconds. Disappointingly, 2 seconds slower than last year!

I stumbled to collect my medal and I dragged myself up the ramp for the chip removal where the girl left my lace undone. Causing a queue behind me, I stayed still until she realised that I was going nowhere until she had done it back up again. There was no chance of my reaching down for it! Last year, I collected my kit and got changed immediately but this time I realised that if I stopped I probably would not get going again – probably ever! The heat was now completely oppressive and so I staggered over to the O meeting point, hung my Olney Runners sweatshirt onto the tree and lay down with a shirt covering my baking head. I was cooked!

I was awoken after a while and bravely embraced by Sarah and Ruth. I wasn’t to find out just how filthy I was – covered in gel, drinks, dirt and a mixture of my own and the Scot’s snot – until later. Sorry guys, I hope your tetanus jabs are up to date! Other familiar people came and went but I remained partially removed from the scene, my frazzled brain left somewhere 2 or 3 miles back. An unsteady and crowded walk away led us to a welcoming pub where I found my second wind and enjoyed a few pints and great company from our fellow runners and fantastic supporters. The ritual airing of the feet took place but at least I didn’t leave half a toe in the ash tray this time!

Once again this was a fantastic experience made more enjoyable by Olney Runners’ desire to be both supportive and entertaining at the same time. Great company, captured on some great photos. The grimaces during are genuine. The smiles after are genuine too. The satisfaction complete.

Well, nearly complete. I may have one more go at the elusive sub 3 before retirement…..anyone want to join me next year for THE marathon?


Beaten by a resurgent Elvis

Finally, after 26 years of trying, I completed the London Marathon on Sunday. In an emotional roller coaster of a day with some terrific support from Olney Runners, I limped home thereby completing what I had set out to do in 1981. Despite having trained throughout 8 winters specifically for the event, this was the first occasion I had actually got to the start line but probably also the least prepared I have been. At 17 I could have taken each of the 26 miles in my steady stride, at 42 it would have to be yard by bloody yard.

The winter’s training has been haphazard at best. Insufficient time to work on speed and quality meant that the longer endurance runs became the cornerstone rather than complimentary to the training programme. With available training time also meant to be split between running and cycling and a longer than expected recovery in the autumn from IMUK, the base period was already suffering when I lined up at the Bedford Half in early December with my usual inflamed left calf muscle. A sprint finish later and I had seen off fellow clubman Greg in a respectable 1 hour 24 mins but I had also seen off another couple of weeks of training by aggravating my calf. Never mind, I’ll start in earnest after Christmas and now had another fellow clubman, Dave Pepper, whose name came out of the Olney Runners’ Christmas Draw and Dee Bethune, an habitual London marathoner, for training company.

The training continued to be haphazard and I never quite got into the programme. Some pleasant morning runs to work (12 miles through the famous Wychwood Stud where the Devil’s Horsemen’s horses took to chasing me across their fields, Emerson Valley, Furzton Lake, Teardrop Lakes and Loughton Lakes) were too infrequent. My usual 15 mile route became a long slog and I could never quite find the time in the day to add those quality sessions. I missed out on the Watford Half and embarked on the Marie Curie 15 miler as a test of stamina – only to be found wanting once again. A seventh place finish scant consolation for a hard morning’s work.

In between, I still managed the annual masochism that is the Big Cow Winter Duathlon Series. The revised course of 4.5km, 16km, 4km has meant a reversal of the cycle loop at which I had become reasonably adept. I didn’t enjoy the new direction. The slightly longer initial run caused many a raised heart rate and those final few extra uphill metres resulted in more stressful and therefore less efficient first transitions. Battling the opposite way on the bike was never comfortable and I always found an excus to go slow – the January ice made the Zipp too twitchy on the corners and the February wind stopped me in my tracks on the modst climb. However with a less than satisfactory 10th and 7th place behind me I produced a slightly more respectable 5th place in the final round to achieve a 3rd overall in the Vets.

This was getting me no closer to a London start and so once more I lined up at the Oakley 20, the scene of at least two of my previous pre marathon downfalls. With Ironman Austria colleague Toni the only Olney representitive (Dave having hobbled out of London contention the week before) , I shared the journey with Deb Self who was training for London for the first time. With a determined plan to this time take it steady, reach the finish line and under no circumstances speak to Imogen, the cause of so may of my failures, I made my way to the start. The plan came under immediate attack for there she stood, between the briefing point and the start line. I could not be so rude as to just walk by and, by mile 6 we were still chatting. By mile 8, Imogen was chatting and I was nodding, by mile 11 I was gasping as usual.

Although Im had also planned to ‘take it easy’, she was constantly being reminded that she was the second lady and so at 12 miles she apologised (there was no need, honestly!) and off she went to pick up the pace by 30 seconds a mile. At mile 17, deja vu, well almost, this time my right calf expired and I set myslf up for yet another round of expensive physios and an anxios three weeks to see if I would make the start line of the World’s greatest marathon.

To keep me amused I had to track down some support stockings to ease the tension in my calf muscles and improve the return of my running action. Deb O was more than happy to locate said hoisiery and then laugh when they were applied, but with a feeling of just wanting on get on with it I booked a hotel in what must have been the only room at the inn, a half mile from the start line. A busy working week detained me til Saturay afternoon and, as a stress reliever, I do not recommend a last gasp dash to the London Docklands to register, especially when the outside temperature was heading toward the 30s and the temperature inside my head was reaching boiling point. The hotel receptionist discovered what they taught me to say 20 years ago in the Paras when she tried to charge me more than the exorbitant rate I had already paid on line. No little lady, that is not how you try to endear yourself to me.

Thankfully race morning was cool and I lined up 10 metres behind the celebreties, as close to the front without actually trampling on anybody. Sadly I joined the waiting ranks 45 minutes from the off, however I had food – a banana – drink, and a t shirt I could throw away with 5 mins to go. Dee came over to shout out good luck and I was joiend by Paul H- a former Para and now a guide runner for a blind Olympian marathon runner. I had no palns to stay up with them but on the off we all bade our farewells and wished each other luck.

Slight drizzle kept everyone cool through the first two or three miles and I was happy with my 6:50 pace and enjoying the early atmosphere. Miles 3 – 6 became a little more crowded as all the starts merged into one road and I watched as Elvis ran passed me looking very strong on his come back performance. I wasn’t too botherted as I thought I’d have him back before the encore. At mile 7 I met up with fellow vet Phil Redden and we chatted for the next few miles, our progress now being punctuated by the band of Olney Runners supporters who had come down to chear me on. I had feared missing them in the crowds but the shrill voices and OR banner made them instantly recognisable! They ran a back double to see me at 7 and 9 and I was basking in their support until mile 10 when I started to go backwards. Something was already wrong and I had yet to reach the midway point. Surely it was not a lack of energy, despite the difficult preceding week and I was taking a gel every 6 miles and carrying carbo drink to keep the glycogen high and drinking water at every opportunity.

At 11 my left calf muscle began to expire and Phil ran on. It’s that old medial head again and I awaited the next sighting of the OR crew so that I could pull out before I caused any more damage. Mile 13 appeared and with it the 7 minute mile pace maker came by. I had lost my early gains and no sign of the girls. I did however spy Imogen running the opposite way with the elite women and offered my usual support. Still no sign of OR so I decided to ‘get thee behind me’ 7 minute man and push on as best I could. Debs and Neil cheared me through the mid point – 1:28:30 – spot on for a sub 3.

From 13 to 18 I dug in and worked as hard as I have ever done in a race. My calf deteriorated and as I tried to alter my running action to compensate, my quads decided to join in with the complaint. The 7 min man was 10 yard ahead and I just had to keep him in sight to justify the misery. At 19 the girls returned and I briefly thought of quitting but with just 7 to go and still being on target (2:15:17 at 20 miles – a vet pb) there was no reason why I shouldn’t.

The crowds by now had become 20 deep and the noise was deafening in some places but I struggled to join in the fun as it was taking all my energy just to stay on the road. I had been looking forward to returning to the City and viewing the architecture of my childhood from this rather unusual perspective however by now I had tunnel vision and just needed now to finish. The 7 min mad was now out of sight and I had 10 minutes for the final two kms but even then I knew that the game was up. Having average 4 minute kms to date, now it took me nearly 6 and I felt myself falling backwards as dozens of runners streaked for the line. I missed the girls at 26 but by now I was rolling badly and had already satisfied that this would be an honourable finish, saluting the crowd and almost walking across the line in 3:01:38.

I met loads of people I knew after the race. Coaches collecting their prodiges and runners either delighted or disappointed in equal numbers. I rang the girls and they met me under the O tree from where we found a pub with one free stool which I quickly appropriated. All I fancied was a pint of Guinness which was duly provided and I sunk into my stool and appreciated the refreshment with much satisfaction. With the manners of a long distance runner I then took off both shoes and socks and treated my feet to Elite’s post competition freshment cream……bliss! As ever, the end of my formerly frost bitten toe came away and we suddenly found ourselves a little more space as people moved away!

Thanking the OR girls who had so diligently supported me, and now coming to terms with the satisfaction of completing London, I passed on my appreciation and noted that it must have been difficult to spot me in amongst the many thousands. The reply was as accurate as it was disappointing, “That was easy”, they responded in unison, “when Elvis came by we knew that you wouldn’t be too long. In fact, just behind the the guy in the big red heart…..and the chap in a dress………and St George towing the dragon!”

So the phoney season is over and it is now that the real racing begins. The British Duathlon Champs in Edinburgh is tomorrow and I have just finished cycling the bike course with Michelle Lee. I need a top 5 finish in my category to qualify for the Worlds which will be a tall order. Having watched Michelle today she will come in
the top 3 in the elite in this her first international as a duathlete – you heard it here first!




Monday 10th Feb – back on track

I am finally beginning to feel as though I am in a position to push on with my training again although I am trying to remain patient……only a month to go before I get the green light to push on!

Despite this, I was able to put in a very solid session at the track with 10 x 1,000m off 6 minutes.  Consistent splits of 3:55, 3:56, 3:49, 3:48, 3:48, 3:45, 3:51, 3:50, 3:58, 4:00.  The first 5 reps were in my Newton Distance shoes and the second 5 were in my Inov8 X233s.

Hopefully these efforts will help to set me up for the spring when I can add cycling and swimming back into the mix again!