It took 16 weeks of training, nearly 1000 miles of running, over £300 worth of massages, three pairs of trainers, a subscription to Runners World, 8 weeks without drinking, 7am wake-up calls on fifteen consecutive Saturday mornings, one cold (man-flu), many, many hours of talking about it and a weekend in Amsterdam, but I got my sub 3hour time for a marathon! In fact I got 2hours 55mins and 36seconds to be precise.
Even though it has been 10 days now since I finished my second marathon I still can’t believe that I did it or how I got there.
The journey didn’t just start 16 weeks ago, but long before that. I remember way, way back in November 2006 thinking about running a marathon. In fact, truth be told, I’ve thought about it for years. I guess it has crossed most people’s minds at least once in their life, the idea of running a marathon. Well it was November 2006 I first gave it serious thought. My friend Mike had told me that he was putting his name forward for the ballot for the Edinburgh Marathon for May 2007 and I was instantly compelled to do the same. Mike and I had spent a lot of time in recent years jogging round Arthur’s seat and had talked about doing a marathon on more than one occasion. We never did one. We had done the Alloa half marathon in 2004 and the Edinburgh half marathon earlier in 2006, but not with any real training. 13.1 miles had been the furthest I had ever run in one go. I entered my name for the Edinburgh marathon draw.
It was a month later, at the beginning of December, that I received confirmation that I had been successful. I was in. I was going to run a marathon. After getting the confirmation email I stood up in my office and proudly proclaimed that I would be running the marathon. My colleague Ian, was quick with encouragement asking, “Why?”. Others around the office stared vacantly at me, as if I was slightly mad (I have since, in their eyes, confirmed this ten times over!).
“Why?” was a good question. I didn’t really have a reason other than that it seemed like a challenge and it was something a lot of people have done in order to say that they have done it, so why shouldn’t I? However, as the question played in my mind, the idea of the challenge began to really resonate, but I also found additional reasons. My dad had been a good runner in his day and done lots of marathons and I thought it would be a good idea if at least one his children completed a marathon to carry on the family tradition, but to be honest this wasn’t a huge driver behind my motivation. Turning 30 had also entered my thoughts. I don’t turn 30 until next year (not long now!), but at that time I did think about trying to do one big thing before hitting this famous landmark and the marathon seemed to fit, but this wasn’t that important either. Ultimately it was the thought of the challenge that motivated me the most and I knew that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly, no messing about. I said to myself that I was going to do it and do it under 3 and half hours – a very respectable time for a marathon. Most people just aim to complete one or aim to get under 4hours. I remember my dad telling me that he thought I would get around 3hours 45mins if I trained hard, which made me that much more determined.
One thing, which most people know about me, is if I get something in my head and get a sense of competition about it or determination then it can very quickly become an obsession, something that I must do and must achieve (almost to the expense of everything else). The marathon quickly got into my head.
I began training properly in December. In December I could run 10K comfortably enough in about forty-eight minutes and I also went to the gym fairly regularly. I was reasonably fit. I weighed just short of a 100kg and although not fat or particularly overweight, I certainly showed the signs of a guy that liked the odd drinking binge and the occasional fish supper or two.
I started reading articles on the Runners World website, which became my online bible. This enabled me to put together a training programme, which along with some good advice from my Dad (who has become my over the phone running coach this year) helped me get underway.
Training never felt hard to begin with. I just started clocking up more miles and ran more frequently. I did quite a bit over December and got off to a good start, which carried on into January. My first challenge came on the day of my 29th birthday – it was the 5.2K Greater Winter run, which followed Queens Drive round Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. I ran it hard and felt great doing it finishing in 23 mins. It was a great start to the year and after a hard night on the booze to celebrate I was motivated for the rest of the winter.
Training quickly became serious for me and unlike in the years before when any good or bad excuse to miss a run was gladly taken I began to feel disappointed in myself or annoyed if I missed a run. If I did miss a run I made every effort to make it up at other times during the week. I remember running at 6am on a January morning, ankle deep in snow, slush blowing into my face, as I made my way round Arthur’s seat determined to get in the day’s necessary 6 miles. I had a meeting scheduled after work that day, so the morning was the only time I could go running and I wasn’t going to miss it.
Sixteen weeks I trained for Edinburgh. I trained hard reaching a peak of 55 miles a week. The nearer I got to the marathon the harder it became. I was involved in the Scottish election, as a candidate in Edinburgh West and an agent to two local government candidates which required a great deal of my time during March and April (the months that demanded the greatest amount of training), as well as that I worked full time, and just to add another time pressure I got a dog! I always found time to run though. In April my typical day would start at 6am with a 30min walk for the dog, followed by a 1 to 1½ hour run. I would then go to work from 9am till 5.30pm, before going home to walk and feed the dog, before going back out to do work on the campaign trail from 6.30pm till 8.30pm. I would get home at 9pm work on the computer for an hour and try as best I could to be in bed for 10pm before repeating the process the next day. Sundays were the hardest though, as I would get up at about 7am, eat a bowl of porridge, go back to bed for an hour and then get up at around 8am to walk the dog. I would then get myself ready for my weekly long run, which was about 22 miles. I would set off at 9am and get back at noon-ish. I was usually exhausted, but didn’t have time to rest, as I would have to get showered and changed to take the dog out for a 2hour walk straight after. Once the dog had been knackered out, I then had to go back on the campaign trail for a couple of hours. If I was lucky I would be home some time after 4pm or 5pm for an evening’s rest, before starting the whole thing over again the next week.
To make things worse I had also developed a constant and nagging pain at the top of my right leg, which wouldn’t go away. I would feel it every step of every run for over a month. It miraculously disappeared with a week to go until the marathon and has never come back!
As horrendous as all this sounds, it was a great time. I loved having a dog again – most surprisingly it’s the morning walks I enjoyed the most. Those thirty minutes of the day of just me and a wild Labrador trying to break his lead to get to the park were great. I loved doing the elections (although the result sucked somewhat!) and most of all I loved my running. It had awoken in me a passion I never knew I had, I was driven by a determination to succeed and it gave me confidence in everything else I did. The endorphins (or ‘the happy dolphins’, as Claire in my office calls them) were great. I love the feeling of finishing a long run where you’ve ran hard and felt strong, there’s nothing quite like it.
I also lost 20kg, almost without noticing. It was only when my clothes literally started falling off did I realise that I had lost that much weight. That and everyone in my office telling me to eat more, which I had been, loads and loads more. If you ever want to eat as much as you like, train for a marathon. Although, as a warning it doesn’t mean you can eat what you like. Just lots of good stuff! Eating five times a day is now my daily routine. I have breakfast, yogurt o’clock (circa 11:30am), lunch, second sandwich time or fruit o’clock (crica 4pm) and then my dinner. If I am really hungry I’ll also have supper before I go to bed.
May was great! The election was over and my training was winding down (runners call this, the taper) in order to allow my body to prepare for the run. The 6am starts to the day were long over and despite a horrendous 10K performance at the BUPA Edinburgh run at the beginning of May I was starting to feel as though I could run fast. At the beginning of April I had run a 1hour 26min half marathon, which had been the best I had felt ever when running. I remember thinking after that race that I had a good chance of getting under 3hours 30 mins. The rest of April and the beginning of May had not gone as well (see injury problems above). The taper though had helped my body to recover and in those final two weeks my body was starting to feel injury free and strong. In the days before the marathon, I secretly began to think I could get between 3hours20mins and 3hours25mins – both well under my target time.
The big day came on Sunday 27th May 2007. It didn’t disappoint. Despite the wind, the rain and the sand blowing into my face for the first 9 miles I ran hard and fast and felt great. I started fast, but then I always do! However, I managed to maintain my pace and when I crossed the halfway line in 1hour 31mins I knew I was going to get close to hitting the 3hour 20mins mark. I went even faster after the halfway point and really started pushing past people, which was a great feeling. Nothing beats passing someone on a run, but that’s the competitive person in me coming out and no runner will tell you they don’t enjoy passing people!
It was only when I got to mile 22 that I hit the famous wall that everyone talks about. It wasn’t bad, I never stopped, I never walked, I didn’t even go that much slower. I did, however, struggle a little, my legs felt heavy and tired and my mental strength had gone as well. Only my will power and determination drove me on. At mile 24 I got two bolts of cramp up each hamstring and I thought for a horrible moment I was going to come to a grinding halt. It didn’t, I kept going. When I saw the 1 mile to go marker, I made myself a promise that if I really wanted I would never have to run another mile again – just this one, just this last one. I did run it and nothing quite beat the feeling when I turned into the finish at Musselburgh Race Course, especially the sight of my friends whose face’s I saw visibly drop in surprise and disbelief as I emerged round the corner far ahead of when I said I would. I crossed the line in 3hours 3minutes and 49seconds to hugs and praise from my brother who like a rhino in a china shop had barged through all the barriers to get to the competitors side of the finish line.
It was an amazing feeling and I knew straight away that I would not be taking up the offer I had made myself on the last mile.
I knew I had changed forever, when I could not drink the can of Stella that I had brought with me for the finish or even eat the burger that had been given to me in my moment of triumph.
Within days of finishing and still struggling to walk I rang Edinburgh Athletics club and asked when and where I could join. I was told by Alex, the coach, to take three weeks off and then come and join in a training session.
After a drunken and debauched holiday (a whole other blog entry!) I made my first appearance at the club. It was like inviting a sex addict to the playboy mansion.
The flames of my running obsession were quickly fanned into a full on blaze. It was great to be surrounded by people, that like me, loved to talk about running and all things associated with running. Everything from what shoes to wear, what watches to buy, what races you had entered, what times you had achieved to how many times a day you ate and what you ate, through to what hurt and where. Add to that people who are as competitive and as driven to run fast as me then what more can someone (well, someone like me) want?
I very quickly decided that I wanted to enter another marathon. The runners at the club seemed to think that I would have been disappointed with my time at Edinburgh, as I had been so close to going under three hours. This I learnt very early on is the hallowed mark that all good club runners aspire to achieve. I wasn’t disappointed and even with hindsight and new achievements I am delighted with the time I got at Edinburgh and will always be proud of that run. However, I knew then that I wanted to run under three hours for a marathon.
The Amsterdam marathon at the end of October seemed to be the perfect time and place to run my second marathon. There were also a few people from the running club planning to do it, which gave us instantly something in common.
Training for Amsterdam was different to training for Edinburgh. My Dad has always said that the more miles I can run the better a marathon runner I will be. So I took his words to heart and increased my training up to 70 miles a week – a big time commitment. I also took the advice of the club’s coach and introduced some quality training sessions into my runs. As a result my training was far better for Amsterdam than it was for Edinburgh. I also had new friends who knew about running, or who I could at least compare notes with. Training had always been fun, but now it was great fun. Running club night on Thursdays became sacrosanct and nothing could get in the way of it. It was great to meet up with everyone, talk running and do some good training.
The closer the race got, the more my target, the sub 3hour mark, started to play on mind. I really started to put a lot of pressure on myself over it. My obsession for running now had its own little sub-obsession. Every time I went out to run this was always in the back of or actually the front of my mind. By the time I left for Amsterdam I knew I would be disappointed with anything other than a sub 3hour time. 2hours 59minutes and 59seconds would have been wonderful, 3hours 0minutes and 0seconds would have been a disaster.
The taper, which I had enjoyed immensely before Edinburgh, was this time nothing short of awful! It had all started well, with a fourth place finish at the Dunbar 10 mile race. I ran that race feeling, fit and strong and confident that I would get under three hours in Amsterdam. After that race though, my mind began to fill with self-doubt, I noticed a niggling pain in my right hamstring (which, to be honest, had been there on and off since March!), and that constantly worried me, I also got a bad cold with less than two weeks to go. The cold which never kept me in bed, did stay with me right up to the race, but on the day was nothing more than a little sniffle, however, it was far from ideal preparation. I am now an expert in home remedies and if I ever get a cold again I am going straight out to buy a jar of Manuka Honey.
Despite all of this, I arrived in Amsterdam in good spirits. I was with quite a few people from the running club and others through various connections. My friend Rob had come as well (I had convinced him on our drunken and debauched holiday that he had to run a marathon). I felt a sense of excitement and adventure being in Amsterdam and this had taken my mind off the marathon, which was strange as that was the only (and I do mean only) reason why I was in the city that weekend.
The morning of the race I felt lethargic and heavy in my legs, but I kept telling myself I would be fine and that today was the day that I would run the race of my life. The stadium was magnificent and a great place to start. Being at the front of the line-up also helped, as it meant I could get away well and not have to worry about fighting my way through the crowds.
If Edinburgh was tough, both physically and mentally, then Amsterdam was pain and mental torture for 26.2miles. At times I thought I’d hit the wall, as I ran through the start. Throughout the whole race my mind raged in conflict, one half telling me to quit, to give-up, that I could get a sub 3hour time another day, that I wasn’t fit, I wasn’t well, it was okay to ease off, and the other half told me to keep going, that I could do it. I was never sure which to believe, but I know which side won. With every mile I broke down the rest of the run, working out what pace I needed to do to get under 3hours. Physically I felt awful too, for whatever reason my legs had felt like lead weights since arriving in Amsterdam. The tops of my legs above the knees were tender and ached and my right hamstring had been niggling for months. I felt all of this and more from the very moment the starting gun fired into the air.
For most of the race I actually ran very fast and despite feeling so bad kept a good and fairly steady pace. I’d passed the halfway mark in under 1hour 25 minutes, which on reflection may have been slightly fast, however, I did enjoy those banked couple of minutes at the end of the race.
The last 12 km or 5 miles of the race were the worst. I have never felt so tired, depleted, sore and have never wished so much for something to be over, but deep down, from somewhere I found what I needed to keep going, to keep striving forward and to keep my target in sight. Again, at the last mile I am sure I made myself a promise that if I really wanted, it could be the last mile I ever ran.
As much as I didn’t enjoy the race, at least not like I enjoyed Edinburgh, I learnt a lot about myself during this last 6 miles. I found courage and heart. I found self-belief and determination, all of which made finishing this marathon so satisfying. I know that at the end of the day this does not compare even remotely to some of the horrors that so many people in this world have to face, but it means a lot to me. I guess those last six miles can be the best and worst reasons for running marathons.
I finished in 2hours and 55mins and 36seconds. Quite literally this was the hardest thing I have ever done and one of, if not the most, satisfying.
With my legs cramping from top to bottom I keeled over in whelps of agony just past the finish line. Laying there in pain with two stewards pushing my legs up trying to ease the spasms, and one photographer poking a lens into my face to capture my moment of anguish, I’ve rarely felt better.
I started this year determined to do a marathon before I was 30 in a time of under 3hours and 30mins. At the end of the year I’m still 29 (for a few more weeks anyway) and I have done two marathons and broken the sub 3hour mark.
So what next, well seven days was all I could bare before brushing off the little dust that had collected on my trainers and heading out for a run. But that was still six days more than I gave myself to decide that I would run marathon number three next year. After all, I now need to break the 2hour 50minute mark!
Even though it has been 10 days now since I finished my second marathon I still can’t believe that I did it or how I got there.
The journey didn’t just start 16 weeks ago, but long before that. I remember way, way back in November 2006 thinking about running a marathon. In fact, truth be told, I’ve thought about it for years. I guess it has crossed most people’s minds at least once in their life, the idea of running a marathon. Well it was November 2006 I first gave it serious thought. My friend Mike had told me that he was putting his name forward for the ballot for the Edinburgh Marathon for May 2007 and I was instantly compelled to do the same. Mike and I had spent a lot of time in recent years jogging round Arthur’s seat and had talked about doing a marathon on more than one occasion. We never did one. We had done the Alloa half marathon in 2004 and the Edinburgh half marathon earlier in 2006, but not with any real training. 13.1 miles had been the furthest I had ever run in one go. I entered my name for the Edinburgh marathon draw.
It was a month later, at the beginning of December, that I received confirmation that I had been successful. I was in. I was going to run a marathon. After getting the confirmation email I stood up in my office and proudly proclaimed that I would be running the marathon. My colleague Ian, was quick with encouragement asking, “Why?”. Others around the office stared vacantly at me, as if I was slightly mad (I have since, in their eyes, confirmed this ten times over!).
“Why?” was a good question. I didn’t really have a reason other than that it seemed like a challenge and it was something a lot of people have done in order to say that they have done it, so why shouldn’t I? However, as the question played in my mind, the idea of the challenge began to really resonate, but I also found additional reasons. My dad had been a good runner in his day and done lots of marathons and I thought it would be a good idea if at least one his children completed a marathon to carry on the family tradition, but to be honest this wasn’t a huge driver behind my motivation. Turning 30 had also entered my thoughts. I don’t turn 30 until next year (not long now!), but at that time I did think about trying to do one big thing before hitting this famous landmark and the marathon seemed to fit, but this wasn’t that important either. Ultimately it was the thought of the challenge that motivated me the most and I knew that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly, no messing about. I said to myself that I was going to do it and do it under 3 and half hours – a very respectable time for a marathon. Most people just aim to complete one or aim to get under 4hours. I remember my dad telling me that he thought I would get around 3hours 45mins if I trained hard, which made me that much more determined.
One thing, which most people know about me, is if I get something in my head and get a sense of competition about it or determination then it can very quickly become an obsession, something that I must do and must achieve (almost to the expense of everything else). The marathon quickly got into my head.
I began training properly in December. In December I could run 10K comfortably enough in about forty-eight minutes and I also went to the gym fairly regularly. I was reasonably fit. I weighed just short of a 100kg and although not fat or particularly overweight, I certainly showed the signs of a guy that liked the odd drinking binge and the occasional fish supper or two.
I started reading articles on the Runners World website, which became my online bible. This enabled me to put together a training programme, which along with some good advice from my Dad (who has become my over the phone running coach this year) helped me get underway.
Training never felt hard to begin with. I just started clocking up more miles and ran more frequently. I did quite a bit over December and got off to a good start, which carried on into January. My first challenge came on the day of my 29th birthday – it was the 5.2K Greater Winter run, which followed Queens Drive round Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. I ran it hard and felt great doing it finishing in 23 mins. It was a great start to the year and after a hard night on the booze to celebrate I was motivated for the rest of the winter.
Training quickly became serious for me and unlike in the years before when any good or bad excuse to miss a run was gladly taken I began to feel disappointed in myself or annoyed if I missed a run. If I did miss a run I made every effort to make it up at other times during the week. I remember running at 6am on a January morning, ankle deep in snow, slush blowing into my face, as I made my way round Arthur’s seat determined to get in the day’s necessary 6 miles. I had a meeting scheduled after work that day, so the morning was the only time I could go running and I wasn’t going to miss it.
Sixteen weeks I trained for Edinburgh. I trained hard reaching a peak of 55 miles a week. The nearer I got to the marathon the harder it became. I was involved in the Scottish election, as a candidate in Edinburgh West and an agent to two local government candidates which required a great deal of my time during March and April (the months that demanded the greatest amount of training), as well as that I worked full time, and just to add another time pressure I got a dog! I always found time to run though. In April my typical day would start at 6am with a 30min walk for the dog, followed by a 1 to 1½ hour run. I would then go to work from 9am till 5.30pm, before going home to walk and feed the dog, before going back out to do work on the campaign trail from 6.30pm till 8.30pm. I would get home at 9pm work on the computer for an hour and try as best I could to be in bed for 10pm before repeating the process the next day. Sundays were the hardest though, as I would get up at about 7am, eat a bowl of porridge, go back to bed for an hour and then get up at around 8am to walk the dog. I would then get myself ready for my weekly long run, which was about 22 miles. I would set off at 9am and get back at noon-ish. I was usually exhausted, but didn’t have time to rest, as I would have to get showered and changed to take the dog out for a 2hour walk straight after. Once the dog had been knackered out, I then had to go back on the campaign trail for a couple of hours. If I was lucky I would be home some time after 4pm or 5pm for an evening’s rest, before starting the whole thing over again the next week.
To make things worse I had also developed a constant and nagging pain at the top of my right leg, which wouldn’t go away. I would feel it every step of every run for over a month. It miraculously disappeared with a week to go until the marathon and has never come back!
As horrendous as all this sounds, it was a great time. I loved having a dog again – most surprisingly it’s the morning walks I enjoyed the most. Those thirty minutes of the day of just me and a wild Labrador trying to break his lead to get to the park were great. I loved doing the elections (although the result sucked somewhat!) and most of all I loved my running. It had awoken in me a passion I never knew I had, I was driven by a determination to succeed and it gave me confidence in everything else I did. The endorphins (or ‘the happy dolphins’, as Claire in my office calls them) were great. I love the feeling of finishing a long run where you’ve ran hard and felt strong, there’s nothing quite like it.
I also lost 20kg, almost without noticing. It was only when my clothes literally started falling off did I realise that I had lost that much weight. That and everyone in my office telling me to eat more, which I had been, loads and loads more. If you ever want to eat as much as you like, train for a marathon. Although, as a warning it doesn’t mean you can eat what you like. Just lots of good stuff! Eating five times a day is now my daily routine. I have breakfast, yogurt o’clock (circa 11:30am), lunch, second sandwich time or fruit o’clock (crica 4pm) and then my dinner. If I am really hungry I’ll also have supper before I go to bed.
May was great! The election was over and my training was winding down (runners call this, the taper) in order to allow my body to prepare for the run. The 6am starts to the day were long over and despite a horrendous 10K performance at the BUPA Edinburgh run at the beginning of May I was starting to feel as though I could run fast. At the beginning of April I had run a 1hour 26min half marathon, which had been the best I had felt ever when running. I remember thinking after that race that I had a good chance of getting under 3hours 30 mins. The rest of April and the beginning of May had not gone as well (see injury problems above). The taper though had helped my body to recover and in those final two weeks my body was starting to feel injury free and strong. In the days before the marathon, I secretly began to think I could get between 3hours20mins and 3hours25mins – both well under my target time.
The big day came on Sunday 27th May 2007. It didn’t disappoint. Despite the wind, the rain and the sand blowing into my face for the first 9 miles I ran hard and fast and felt great. I started fast, but then I always do! However, I managed to maintain my pace and when I crossed the halfway line in 1hour 31mins I knew I was going to get close to hitting the 3hour 20mins mark. I went even faster after the halfway point and really started pushing past people, which was a great feeling. Nothing beats passing someone on a run, but that’s the competitive person in me coming out and no runner will tell you they don’t enjoy passing people!
It was only when I got to mile 22 that I hit the famous wall that everyone talks about. It wasn’t bad, I never stopped, I never walked, I didn’t even go that much slower. I did, however, struggle a little, my legs felt heavy and tired and my mental strength had gone as well. Only my will power and determination drove me on. At mile 24 I got two bolts of cramp up each hamstring and I thought for a horrible moment I was going to come to a grinding halt. It didn’t, I kept going. When I saw the 1 mile to go marker, I made myself a promise that if I really wanted I would never have to run another mile again – just this one, just this last one. I did run it and nothing quite beat the feeling when I turned into the finish at Musselburgh Race Course, especially the sight of my friends whose face’s I saw visibly drop in surprise and disbelief as I emerged round the corner far ahead of when I said I would. I crossed the line in 3hours 3minutes and 49seconds to hugs and praise from my brother who like a rhino in a china shop had barged through all the barriers to get to the competitors side of the finish line.
It was an amazing feeling and I knew straight away that I would not be taking up the offer I had made myself on the last mile.
I knew I had changed forever, when I could not drink the can of Stella that I had brought with me for the finish or even eat the burger that had been given to me in my moment of triumph.
Within days of finishing and still struggling to walk I rang Edinburgh Athletics club and asked when and where I could join. I was told by Alex, the coach, to take three weeks off and then come and join in a training session.
After a drunken and debauched holiday (a whole other blog entry!) I made my first appearance at the club. It was like inviting a sex addict to the playboy mansion.
The flames of my running obsession were quickly fanned into a full on blaze. It was great to be surrounded by people, that like me, loved to talk about running and all things associated with running. Everything from what shoes to wear, what watches to buy, what races you had entered, what times you had achieved to how many times a day you ate and what you ate, through to what hurt and where. Add to that people who are as competitive and as driven to run fast as me then what more can someone (well, someone like me) want?
I very quickly decided that I wanted to enter another marathon. The runners at the club seemed to think that I would have been disappointed with my time at Edinburgh, as I had been so close to going under three hours. This I learnt very early on is the hallowed mark that all good club runners aspire to achieve. I wasn’t disappointed and even with hindsight and new achievements I am delighted with the time I got at Edinburgh and will always be proud of that run. However, I knew then that I wanted to run under three hours for a marathon.
The Amsterdam marathon at the end of October seemed to be the perfect time and place to run my second marathon. There were also a few people from the running club planning to do it, which gave us instantly something in common.
Training for Amsterdam was different to training for Edinburgh. My Dad has always said that the more miles I can run the better a marathon runner I will be. So I took his words to heart and increased my training up to 70 miles a week – a big time commitment. I also took the advice of the club’s coach and introduced some quality training sessions into my runs. As a result my training was far better for Amsterdam than it was for Edinburgh. I also had new friends who knew about running, or who I could at least compare notes with. Training had always been fun, but now it was great fun. Running club night on Thursdays became sacrosanct and nothing could get in the way of it. It was great to meet up with everyone, talk running and do some good training.
The closer the race got, the more my target, the sub 3hour mark, started to play on mind. I really started to put a lot of pressure on myself over it. My obsession for running now had its own little sub-obsession. Every time I went out to run this was always in the back of or actually the front of my mind. By the time I left for Amsterdam I knew I would be disappointed with anything other than a sub 3hour time. 2hours 59minutes and 59seconds would have been wonderful, 3hours 0minutes and 0seconds would have been a disaster.
The taper, which I had enjoyed immensely before Edinburgh, was this time nothing short of awful! It had all started well, with a fourth place finish at the Dunbar 10 mile race. I ran that race feeling, fit and strong and confident that I would get under three hours in Amsterdam. After that race though, my mind began to fill with self-doubt, I noticed a niggling pain in my right hamstring (which, to be honest, had been there on and off since March!), and that constantly worried me, I also got a bad cold with less than two weeks to go. The cold which never kept me in bed, did stay with me right up to the race, but on the day was nothing more than a little sniffle, however, it was far from ideal preparation. I am now an expert in home remedies and if I ever get a cold again I am going straight out to buy a jar of Manuka Honey.
Despite all of this, I arrived in Amsterdam in good spirits. I was with quite a few people from the running club and others through various connections. My friend Rob had come as well (I had convinced him on our drunken and debauched holiday that he had to run a marathon). I felt a sense of excitement and adventure being in Amsterdam and this had taken my mind off the marathon, which was strange as that was the only (and I do mean only) reason why I was in the city that weekend.
The morning of the race I felt lethargic and heavy in my legs, but I kept telling myself I would be fine and that today was the day that I would run the race of my life. The stadium was magnificent and a great place to start. Being at the front of the line-up also helped, as it meant I could get away well and not have to worry about fighting my way through the crowds.
If Edinburgh was tough, both physically and mentally, then Amsterdam was pain and mental torture for 26.2miles. At times I thought I’d hit the wall, as I ran through the start. Throughout the whole race my mind raged in conflict, one half telling me to quit, to give-up, that I could get a sub 3hour time another day, that I wasn’t fit, I wasn’t well, it was okay to ease off, and the other half told me to keep going, that I could do it. I was never sure which to believe, but I know which side won. With every mile I broke down the rest of the run, working out what pace I needed to do to get under 3hours. Physically I felt awful too, for whatever reason my legs had felt like lead weights since arriving in Amsterdam. The tops of my legs above the knees were tender and ached and my right hamstring had been niggling for months. I felt all of this and more from the very moment the starting gun fired into the air.
For most of the race I actually ran very fast and despite feeling so bad kept a good and fairly steady pace. I’d passed the halfway mark in under 1hour 25 minutes, which on reflection may have been slightly fast, however, I did enjoy those banked couple of minutes at the end of the race.
The last 12 km or 5 miles of the race were the worst. I have never felt so tired, depleted, sore and have never wished so much for something to be over, but deep down, from somewhere I found what I needed to keep going, to keep striving forward and to keep my target in sight. Again, at the last mile I am sure I made myself a promise that if I really wanted, it could be the last mile I ever ran.
As much as I didn’t enjoy the race, at least not like I enjoyed Edinburgh, I learnt a lot about myself during this last 6 miles. I found courage and heart. I found self-belief and determination, all of which made finishing this marathon so satisfying. I know that at the end of the day this does not compare even remotely to some of the horrors that so many people in this world have to face, but it means a lot to me. I guess those last six miles can be the best and worst reasons for running marathons.
I finished in 2hours and 55mins and 36seconds. Quite literally this was the hardest thing I have ever done and one of, if not the most, satisfying.
With my legs cramping from top to bottom I keeled over in whelps of agony just past the finish line. Laying there in pain with two stewards pushing my legs up trying to ease the spasms, and one photographer poking a lens into my face to capture my moment of anguish, I’ve rarely felt better.
I started this year determined to do a marathon before I was 30 in a time of under 3hours and 30mins. At the end of the year I’m still 29 (for a few more weeks anyway) and I have done two marathons and broken the sub 3hour mark.
So what next, well seven days was all I could bare before brushing off the little dust that had collected on my trainers and heading out for a run. But that was still six days more than I gave myself to decide that I would run marathon number three next year. After all, I now need to break the 2hour 50minute mark!
