Yorkshire Marathon

After running my first marathon in Preston last year I hadn't intended to run another, reasoning (rationalising) that it would  be difficult to go much faster so I decided to run an ultra instead.  But when the Yorkshire Marathon was announced it didn't take much persuasion for me want to run. I lived in York for over a decade and I wanted to be part of what looked like a great race. I'm glad I was quick off the mark as it filled up fast.

In an effort to overcome the "I can't go faster" mentality I had been training with the Dunbar running club, and the opportunity to run with some very talented and fast runners, as well as do some structured interval training definitely offered the chance of a better time. I wrote a whole blog on the many reasons I now felt I could go faster than last year.

Pre race

We headed down to York on the Saturday. Having lived in York for so long there we're a whole bunch of people we wanted to catch up with so had a lovely lunch with friends and then a birthday party to attend which coupled with a three and a half hour drive made for a busy day.

We stayed with our friends Lex and Trav who were brilliant hosts. Lex ran the marathon too, and had a great race in her first marathon getting round in a shade over 4:30. There was plenty of pasta and pizza for tea, although I had to restrict myself to just the one beer which felt quite hard, but I consoled myself with the thought of how many I could enjoy to rehydrate the following day.

I slept fairly fitfully I was definitely awake at three listening to some very heavy rain, and then  had a dream that I hadn't bothered to turn up to the marathon but was too ashamed to tell anyone. I was almost a relief to get up and have breakfast. I had shredded wheat and toast and then a little later some malt loaf, which I also took a few slices of too the start.

Ready to go after a good breakfast

I was very lucky to avoid too much hassle getting to the start, as one of our old neighbours had very kindly let me leave the car on their drive, ten minutes away from the university, so it was a short and hassle free trip to the start at York uni.

My wife was an undergraduate at York and I well remember my confusion on my first introduction to the campus many years ago when we went for a few drinks in one of the university bars. The whole thing is a magnificent and confusing homage to concrete and I was quickly lost. Chalking my confusion down to the darkness and a my earnest desire to fully appreciate the refreshments on offer, I was surprised to find that even in daylight and sober it's a confusing place. To be honest I suspect that Julie spent three years there without ever actually being able to find her way around, but she was hampered by the need to give a wide berth to the many geese who flock to the university to terrorise economics students with fear of all living creatures.

The concrete jungle on a quieter day

Anyway to this confusing tableau the marathon added  extra layers of complexity by adding in fiendish one way systems and fearsome security guards to enforce them, and I was mentally exhausted by the time I found myself at the back of the immense baggage drop queue. I feared the worst at this point, but to the honest I think I just arrived at peak time, the queue gradually moved, and the subsequent queue for the toilets wasn't too bad.

I was lucky enough to run into a old university friend Graham, who I hadn't seen in 15 years on the way to the start, and then to bump into team Dunbar who were ready to race, and finally to my old boss Kev on the start line. It was great to see so many friendly faces. Rain threatened but never materialised, and we were off. I started in zone two. Given that this was numbers 1000 - 2500 and I was number 1005 I was a bit miffed to have just missed out on a spot in zone one, but actually it was fine, it took a couple of minutes to get over the line and we were running freely straight away.

The massed ranks at the start

The route and the plan.

The route started off by going through the centre of York then headed out through the suburbs, into the countryside and surrounding villages as far as Stamford Bridge before heading back via a couple of out and back sections, some more suburbs and a cheeky wee hill at mile 25.5.

My plan was to try and get round in 3:30. This needed a 8:00 minute per mile pace. Although I was concious of the need to bank some time earlier one in order to counteract any later slowing down. I hoped to be a the significant right turn at seven miles in 55 minutes, at the turn in Stamford Bridge at 14 miles in 1:50, then 20 miles in 2:40.

And we're off

The first mile or so was fine. I'm always surprised by the variety of pace, with some of those ahead going very slowly and some people flying past from behind, but it settled down very quickly. I was immediately kicking myself as I checked my pace on my garmin which was annoyingly still set in kilometres not miles. Julie works in km and had used it to run the Glasgow half, and although I had thought on many occasions I needed to turn it back, the Gods of procrastination had waited till race day to give me a kicking. At least an eight minute mile is easy to convert into a five minute km so it wasn't too mentally taxing.

The run through the town was fairly quiet as it was early in the morning. but the atmosphere by the mister was electric. I've had the privilege of running past the Minster before in the 10k and it is always amazing to run past with the bells ringing and the crowds cheering. Things quickly settled down and the run through Heworth and down to Stockton-on-the-forest was fairly uneventful.

I was carrying four gels and some sesame snaps (basically sesame seeds and sugar, one of the few foods I look back on without nausea from the Clyde Stride), I soon realised that in all my planning I had forgotten to plan when to take these and decided to alternate the two at the water stations which were every three miles.

Road marathons are in some ways quite dull, people aren't all that chatty and tend to be pretty focussed on what they are doing but it was nice to chat briefly to a few people as we went round. At one point a guy behind me took a call on his phone, I really wanted him to come past with a Dom Jolly comedy phone shouting "Hello I'm running the marathon" but sadly it was not too be, he was just keeping his supporters up to date - the pressures of the modern marathon.

"Hello I'm running the marathon"

The support in the villages was great, many of these people had been trapped in their villages by the marathon road closures, and in spite of this they were still happy to cheer us on. There was a great toddler in Stockton on the Forest who came out of his house looked down the road and shouted "Dad, there's millions and millions of people." I also remember a scout troop somewhere round here and some great music. As someone who has been banned from drumming for crimes against rhythm, it's the drummers who I remember most I think there were two lots on the course and they sounded really good.

The seven mile mark came in 55:34, the half in 1:43:54 (this is actually a PB for me in a race), and the 14 mile point in 1:50:21, all going to plan.

Route 166 

We were now into the out and back sections along the A166. I didn't mind the first out and back at all it's nice to see all the other people and to look for people you know ahead and behind. I saw former boss Kev up ahead and Dunbar runner Ann just behind.

It was also at this point I started to see a few people I knew in the crowds and it was great to see some people I hadn't seen in a while. Thanks Vinny and Sam, Lucy, Rose and Sue a friendly face is always a welcome boost

It's around mile 16 that the first signs of fatigue set in. I'm slowing, only by 5 or 10 seconds per km, but I'm having to work harder to do this pace, and this section is gradually downhill. I haven't got enough time in the bank to be slowing so soon, and it's too far out to start pushing too hard. I see Ian and Richard from Dunbar as I start the 2nd out and back, both looking good, as Graham who is flying along a little behind them. I see someone being put into an ambulance (never a great morale booster) and head down to the turn.

The back bit of the out and back was from mile 18 to mile 19.5 and it was all uphill. Not steeply uphill but the kind of gentle but un-remitting uphill that gradually saps your strength. I went into this section just a little bit behind plan and came out of it with any hopes of 3:30 having gone. It was just hard, and I did not have the legs to run it fast, I ran it slow and plenty of others walked. Running slow was still too much as in the latter part I began to feel very sick. This wasn't unexpected I often feel sick but this was a lot worse than normal. 

The hard bit

I got the the end of the A166 section and turned for home, I was thinking I'd be faster if I just stopped and was sick so this is what I decided to do. As soon as I had decided this I was right in the middle of a village so decided I'd wait until I was out of the other side before puking. Then I was confronted by a camera, stymied again, I thought I'd better run past. Then finally I found a likely spot and stopped. Could I actually manage to be sick, not a chance, my body which had been saying for ages that it would like nothing more than a quick vomit decided to change its mind and there was nothing I could do to persuade it otherwise.

I ran on, I went slowly, I tried to run faster, I couldn't, I wanted to stop, I didn't, I wanted to walk, I didn't I just moved forwards, slowly. It was good to get to Murton, the support here was good and Laura was another very welcome friendly face, I kind of felt bad afterwards for the high five though, given I'd just had my fingers down my throat trying to be sick. Luckily for Laura I'd offered her the other hand.

Crossing the ring road was a milestone, and the support through the suburbs was great. I was running at about 10 minute mile pace now and accepting that time goals had gone I was just trying to enjoy the experience. Which I sometimes achieved.

A picture is worth 1000 words, and this is a graph so it's even better

So the final act of note was to get up the hill. I was fairly accepting of my fate now, resigned to running up the hill, my body didn't need much persuasion I just got on with it on autopilot. There was a guy walking just in front of me, I'd seen him giving himself a good talking too at the bottom of the hill and having given up on my own targets I kind of didn't want him to do the same, although for all I know he might have been on for a massive PB, non the less I gave him some encouragement and got him running up the hill a lot faster than I could.

Along the finishing straight and I'm scanning the crowd for Julie and boys. The spectating logistics have been complex so I don't know if they're actually here, but Julie got in trouble at the Glasgow half for not high fiving the boys in the finishing straight, and I don't want to befall the same fate.

The crowds are massive and by the time Julie calls my name it's too late for a high five, but great to see them. I jog on too the line, I pass the guy I'd encouraged up the hill and scare the life out of him giving him a pat on the back as I go past. The video shows me applauding the crowd as I approach the line, I can't actually remember this but I guess it is true, and then over the line and stop.

I keep waiting for someone to put a medal around my next, but this doesn't happen, so I go and get my goodie bag and find the medal and put it on. Somehow this seems important. I sit down kind of feeling on the verge of tears but not quite being able to cry, this feels a bit disappointing. I the end I stand up and go and find my family.

Two minutes with the children in a crowded finish area reminds me that watching with two children is definitely harder than running, and I'm very grateful to Julie for making the effort. One advantage of the pink medal is that the boys aren't fighting over who gets to wear it - they don't seem keen at all. But my nieces seem quite taken with it when we see them later on.

Pink

Julie keeps trying to make me eat, but I don't feel like anything. In the end we go to meet my mum and sisters who have come over but missed the actual race, I get some chips and cake in the cafe and the recovery process begins.

The walk back to the car is fine, and I think this probably does me a lot of good although walking down steps is tricky. Then back to Lex and Trav's for wine and beer and tea.

3:45:06.

Afterwards

I've been trying to convince myself I'm not disappointed, sometimes I succeed. The truth is it was a great race and enjoyed lots of it, especially the support which was excellent, seeing the people I knew and running through one of my favourite cities. The truth is also that if I'm being honest with myself everything was set up for a good run and I know I could and should have done better. 

The only conclusions I can draw are that perhaps I ate and drank a little too much which made my stomach worse, so next time out eat and drink less. That the day before wasn't as restful as you would normally want. And that I perhaps lack a bit of metal fortitude when it gets tough, or didn't want it enough and that's why it didn't happen. Not sure how to fix this.

Next up is a wee 53 mile jaunt next April.

Why I'm going to do better in this marathon than last time

A nice positive title, but there are a number of reasons why this is true. So in no particular order...

Experience - I've now done a marathon (and an ultra) so this isn't the big step into the unknown that it was last time. I know what 26 miles feels like, I've done it twice in races and once in training, and whist I wouldn't say it holds no fear I know what I'm getting into.

Distance training - As a result of running the Clyde Stride in July I've done a lot more distance training and have a lot more long miles in my legs. Last year I ran 18+ miles three times in the run up to the marathon. So far this year it's been nine times (plus one race).

Speed training - I tried last year but I was a bit unstructured and found this hard to do on my own. This year running with the club has helped with weekly tempo runs and interval sessions which have undoubtedly made me run faster.

The route - Preston was hardly UTMB but it was undulating in places. York is mostly very flat. Also I've reviewed the route in full on google streetview so I have a better idea what to expect.

The weather - I may be tempting fate here but it would struggle to be worse than Preston. Preston was so bad that it has mentally scarred everyone I know who ran it except for me. York will be better, and hey if its not I know I can run a decent marathon in the wind and rain.

Weight - I'm certainly a couple of pounds lighter than I was last year - less to drag around the course with me.

Having a garmin - I didn't have one last year so was tracking the run on my phone, which was in my pocket and wasn't giving me the same kind of real time info a garmin provides. If things are going well, knowing that this is the case will provide positive reinforcement and make me faster.

Peer pressure - I know a lot more people running this time, and am keen to beat some of them, last time I was more concerned just to finish.

Goals - Last time my main goal was to finish, although I was always fairly confident this would be under four hours. This time I'm a bit more focussed on achieving my potential timewise (which is nothing stupidly fast 3:30ish).

Nutrition - I ran out of energy a bit last time towards the end, this time I will eat a bit more which will hopefully mean I feel a bit stronger later on.

Belief - I believe I can go faster and run stronger in the Yorkshire marathon.

The story of my first marathon - Preston 2012

I'm running my second marathon next month, so it seemed like a good time to look back on the first one. I did it last October, before I had aspirations of being and ultra runner and it became de rigueur to have a blog.

It all began in 1179 when King Henry II conferred on the good people of Preston the right to hold  a Guild celebration. This took place every 20 years. Little happened for another 800 years or so, and they the good people of Preston enjoyed a further boon when I was born. Little happened again until the third player in this unlikely trinity stepped up and the EU named Preston a city of sport 2012, the city rose to the challenge by scheduling the inaugural Guild Marathon (2012 was also a guild year) to be run once every 20 years. When the EU, King Henry II and I get it together the results can only be good.

I was talked into it by my friend Julie, she was a recent convert to Marathon running taking the novel approach of training lightly, and entering at the last minute to avoid getting stressed by this. She was running with her friend Sharon who was attempting to run five marathons in five weeks to raise money in the memory of her mother.

To Sharon's glamorous list of Amsterdam, Liverpool, Chicago and Berlin was added Preston, as a finale no less. To be honest I didn't take much persuasion to get involved a hometown marathon that wouldn't come around again for 20 years seemed the kind of opportunity not to miss. I was in.

This was in March, in April I ran my local 10k in a then pb (46 something) and the next day went and ran for 13 miles to see if I could do it. I survived so the official entry went in. I had six months to prepare. By this point I had been running 2 or 3 times a week for a year or so, and had in the more distant past run a couple of half marathons so I had a base to work from.

Looking to draw on the accumulated wisdom of others rather than think for myself, I read a decent amount about how to train for and run a marathon. The thing that struck me most was "four months to a four hour marathon" this was the first thing I read and it gave me the basic building blocks of having a long run, a tempo run, some kind of speedwork and a slower run. I tried to incorporate all of these.

I spent a glorious few days writing a detailed plan of what to do when. I never followed it, life and my own random whims got in the way too much, but it was reassuring to know it was there, being ignored - I may not be following it but at least I had a plan.

What I really did was this.

• I tried to run more, 4/5 times a week.

• Once in a while I tried to run longer than I ever had before, but not week in week out

• Sometimes I ran up some hills

• Sometimes I did some fartlek - usually one fast mile, five fast minutes and a final fast mile.

• In the penultimate month before the race I ran 20 miles plus 3 times

• In the month before the race I did less

The first 20 mile run nearly broke me, that was when I realised that I needed food and water to go for three hours, this sounds obvious but I'd always managed OK without in the past. The second 20 mile run felt good, and the third one was compromised by the wind, but this wind training paid dividends later.

I ran the Edinburgh 10k at the start of October and got a massive pb on a very hilly course. This is probably still the most complete run I've ever managed and made me believe I was in great shape for what was to come.

Mentally I always felt strong, possibly as a result of misplaced self confidence, but in the run up to the race I never had any doubts I could do the distance. My stated goal was sub 4h and I never really doubted that I'd do this either. I had no real basis for this intrinsic confidence but none the less I always believed in my own ability. My more stretching goal was 3h30. I didn't tell anyone this nor did I really take any positive steps to achieve it, this was simply a best case scenario if it all came together on the day. I had no expectation of reaching this goal, and I didn't.

So the race was on a Sunday. Although I've long since fled the Lancashire nest for colder climes, we still have plenty of family down there (my wife is a fellow Lancastrian). We drove down on the Saturday, left the kids with my mum for the night, she would bring them to watch the finish. Went to Preston, registered and went for a pizza, I remember sitting in Pizza Express with my number thinking it all seemed pretty real.

Julie and Sharon had brought a small army of Scottish runners down for the last leg of Sharon's challenge, and hosted a small gathering the night before where I had more pizza and pasta. Plenty of carbs. After a pretty busy day I actually slept pretty well the night before, especially considering I wasn't in my own bed, and we were putting up some of the Scottish contingent at my in-laws house.

Up early the next morning. Shower and breakfast (muesli, toast, malt loaf and banana) and off. I picked up my friend Gareth, who is also running his first marathon. He seemed nervous. Mrs T stayed behind, she'll get a lift in later for the finish.

All this time I'm kind of aware that the weather isn't looking all that promising it's grey and windy. We get to the guild hall. I lose everyone as I go to check my bag in and am glad of a few minutes to myself. I plaster my nipples and go to the toilet, eat some more malt loaf and I'm ready to go.

I'm wearing a yellow high vis nike top, purchased in San Francisco many years ago and a staple of all my running, and some adidas shorts with a pocket at the back which has my mobile in it. I'm using this as a GPS tracker primarily so I've got something to look back on and so my family can see where I'm at. I'm wearing brooks ghost shoes, and I forget about my socks. After much deliberation I'm not carrying any gels or anything, just relying on what is on the course. I also have on an old jumper to keep me warm in case we have to stand around at the start for ages, I'm planning to ditch this on the start line.

I head outside and meet up with people again, the weather is looking looming. The start is on the flag market in Preston city centre. I have many fond memories of being drunk here on various New Years Eves, but to be honest I'm fairly focussed what needs to be done. We all stand towards the back and then realise we should be further forward and push our way to somewhere around the 4 hour marker. There are only a thousand or so running so it's not too busy. I don't remember a starting gun but the crowd gets the message and we all start to move. Some quick "good luck"s are pretty much the last I see of everyone until the finish.

There is a kind of nervous tension to the first mile, I'd planned to go pretty slow, as a guard against going too fast and there are lots of people to get in my way to ensure I stick to this. I'm pretty impressed by the soldier in full pack and gear who is doing this as training for his next tour of duty in Afghanistan, at the same time I really hope I beat him. I've been here before in the York 10k trying and failing to chase down a gingerbread man, but the soldier seems steady rather than speedy.

As the race comes down hill out of the city centre everything settles down. I'm running well at this point along the closed off dual carriageway. My pace is a good consistent 8.15ish. This is an out and back section so I keep myself amused looking out for people I know behind me. I shout a hello to Julie but everyone else passes unnoticed. The out and back section also means I get a look at the leaders, the guy out in front is from Blackburn and is getting a great reception, a kind of rolling cheer, from the massed ranks of runners as he goes by. He is called Ben and goes on to win by miles.

The course heads back into the city and the through the suburbs to the countryside. The only thing I remember about this is some speed-bumps, clearly I was travelling too fast in a residential area. As the route heads out into the countryside at around nine miles several things become apparent, the country lanes have an annoying camber which forces everyone into the middle of the road, the weather is actually pretty windy and rainy, and the chat of all the other runners around me is annoying. I speed up slightly to neutralise the latter, I perhaps should have identified this as an early step on the road to mental deterioration, as I'm fairly sure that they were all very nice people having a nice chat about their nice marathon.

I run some more through the wind and rain along some pretty quiet roads. One chap chats to me as I pass him. He's struggling with an injury, I tell him he's doing well and move on, not anticipating at this point how galling it will be when he passes me later on.

It's a cliche but at mile 18 I start to feel like I'm having to dig deeper to keep going at the same speed, and from mile 21 with the course starting to head back into the city I'm very concious that I'm starting to struggle.
I have two strong memories from this bit of the race, the first is a very kind spectator giving me a jelly baby. I was delighted and thanked them with a very heartfelt "I love you" and ran on. Sadly as soon as I had the jelly baby between my teeth my stomach woke up to what was going on and made it very clear that if I sent down any jelly babies it was sending them back with interest, so to my disappointment I had to spit it out. I felt pretty sick all the way to the end.

The other thing I recall was just how hard this bit was mentally. By this point I had nowhere to go at all in my head which was full of pain and tiredness and not a nice place to be. I had read about Paula Radcliffe repeating the names of her children in her head as she ran just to have something to think about so I tried this for a couple of miles here - obviously with my kids rather than Paula's. It helped pass the time but really I just wanted to switch off from it all.

All things considered I found the closing bits hard by managed to keep going albeit I slowed down by about 20 seconds each mile for the last 6 miles, having been pretty consistent beforehand.

At some point the half marathon runners merged in, I remember running behind a runner who with the greatest of respect did not look the athletic type and wondering "how the hell is she ahead of me" before realising she was completing the half, but this took a long time to work out.

As we came back into the city centre the wind was very strong swirling around the buildings, at one turn the runner in front of me just stopped as he turned the corner and wind hit him. Past a few of the pubs I used to drink in as a youngster and I'm back at the market, and suddenly my mum is running along behind the barrier shouting my name, there is a whole bunch of family and friends supporting which feels great, but I just want it over, I run round the corner and over the line.

I cross the line and burst into tears, the mental effort of trying to hold it together for the last bit has taken its toll. Someone gives me a medal, it all feels good but not as exhilarating as I'd expected - I'm too tired for that.

I go and find my family, they give me some concerned / disgusted looks and I realised I'm covered in blood from my nipples. Everything else hurt so much I didn't notice the loss of the plasters or all the layers of my skin. They don't actually hurt until I get into the shower later.

Everyone looks drenched so we decamp to MacDonalds. I have a cup of tea which tastes great and some fries which are pleasantly salty and sit quietly still quite numb from it all. I didn't quite realise when I was running how wet and windy and cold it actually was. One of Julie's friends actually gets pulled from the course after 25 miles with hypothermia, and she lives in Scotland so it must be cold. All that running into the North Sea wind in training has clearly paid off.

My family heads off and I got back to race HQ to wait for Gareth who I need to give a lift home to. The finish looks very different now as most of the runners are in, the crowds have dwindled and it is really pissing it down. Anyone who has been out there for 5+ hours has had a very hard day indeed. Gareth finishes and has no warm clothes at all too put on, he looks cold, I go to the car and a get him a fleece, and watch warmth slowly return.

And that was it 3:44:52 for 325th place out of 1137. We go back to the in-laws house. Almost immediately my youngest son cracks his head on the coffee table. There is lots of blood, I'm really not sure I could cope with a trip to A&E, fortunately the blood stops and he seems fine. Although a few days later the Dr back home remarks that it could have done with a stitch or two.

Take out curry for tea, and in a few days I can even walk properly again.

10 things I learned running my first ultra

Well it's been ages since the Clyde Stride and I've had a decent amount of time to reflect on the experience. I'm sure I learned plenty.

1. Sometimes it is hot - this will make you run slower unless you are Moroccan. Having done some research apparently no matter how I train I can't become Moroccan. This means when it's hot I need to adjust the plan accordingly. The sun had made it's point pretty firmly in the race before I realised this, I should have twigged sooner.

2. 40 miles is a long way - it really is, there is no real way to appreciate this without doing it.

3. Reconnaissance pays dividends - I'd recceed the course. This saved me worrying about where to go, and gave me a better understanding of what is to come. Plus I didn't waste time or effort running any extra miles.

4. It's easier to run with someone - in the last half of the race pretty much all of the best running I did was when I had someone to run with, or was leapfrogging someone. All of the worst bits were when I was on my own. Trying to run with others even if you can only hold on for a bit is worthwhile.

5. Freezing things - On a hot day freezing the water and where possible food in my drop bag was the single best idea ever.

6. Rehydrate carefully - I found that a can of strongbow at the finish helped replenish my alcohol levels which had depleted during training and dropped alarmingly during the race.

7. Shade - There is no point sitting down at a checkpoint in the blazing sun. Find some shade.

8. Get things ready - My dad was taking the piss a bit the night before when I was wondering round the house in a panic preparing drop bags and clothes and telling him and Mrs T over and over what the plan was, and giving them little print outs telling them the planned split times. But this all helps ensure it is right on the day and gives you  confidence everything has been done. I'd be more chilled next time round but it really felt like a trip into the unknown.

9. Don't leave your finish line drop bag at the finish and have to run back to pick it up.

10. If you're ever passing, the newsagents in Kirkfieldbank does a mean tropical flavour ice pop. Just the thing on a hot day and a strong contender for the best 10p I ever spent.

It still feels like a weird thing to have done. It didn't have the same emotional intensity as my first (and so far only) marathon, and while it was immensely satisfying to finish there were no tears, just a relief it was over and a great sense of satisfaction. It certainly gave me more belief in myself and is an experience I'm keen to repeat.

Clyde Stride 40

Where to start. It started like so many of my days with a train ride. But today was not the daily commute into Edinburgh but the start of a big adventure. After navigating the train and the Glasgow subway system, which is more fairground ride than mass transit system, I arrived at Partick railway station and the start of my first ultra the Clyde Stride 40.

In reality it had all started much longer ago, although perhaps without an awareness of where it would all end up. As I pulled on my trusty running top I reflected that when I bought it in San Francisco for $10 in 2007, I had no idea it would accompany me around a marathon let alone an ultra.

Anyway, registered, changed, drop bags in the van, long queue for the toilets in Morrisons and I'm ready to go. Lee (the fantastic race director) says she is going to give us a blether, this is Scottish for come and listen to the race briefing. Key message it's going to be hot.

And then we are herded into an underpass and readied for the off. A couple of guys are busy practicing cracking their whip. My initial hopes that they are simply unconnected passing S&M enthusiasts are dashed – they are the sweepers. One seems decidedly proficient, I decide to keep out of his way. And then we are off, I start towards the back and try to start slowly. The first 10 miles take you through Glasgow along the riverside path, this is the only section I haven't recced so I'm hoping that the navigation is easy and I have people around to follow, both prove to be the case.

My tentative plan was to run the first 10 miles in around 1:25, and I stick to this pace well. As it turns out it's the only bit of the plan that works. Even at 9 in the morning the sun feels hot, and there is a nagging voice at the back of my head that I'm perhaps going to fast. It's hard to know I've never done this before.

Glasgow gets a bad press at times, but on a sunny Saturday morning its a very pleasant place for a run. We pass the stadium being built (I assume) for next years commonwealth games, and apart from a penchant for the good people of Glasgow to build their bridges just slightly too low to fit comfortably underneath all is good. I have my 9bar at 3.3 miles and my gel at 6.6, it all feels textbook. A passer by asks where we are going, to much bemusement when we tell him, Lanark is a long way away. I get chatting to a fellow runner and we arrive at checkpoint 1.

I've never done a checkpoint before I was a bit nervous about it all and wasn't sure what to expect, but it all went smoothly. I found my drop bag grabbed some malt loaf, filled up my water bottles and away. I set off quite fast after leaving the checkpoint, almost certainly too fast. The sun was well and truly up now and there was no getting away from the fact it was hot. Hotter than the forecast.

Much of the next few miles were through some very overgrown fields, but there wasn't a lot of cover and somewhere along here it felt like the heat got into my body. It wasn't going to leave for the rest of the day. I walked the hills, fine, I'd always intended to do this, but stopping to reattach the bottom of my number felt like a bit of an excuse to stop, and gradually I felt myself slowing.

I did my good deed for the day, by reuniting the runner in front of me with the gel he had dropped, and my good karma was rewarded when a very kind lady offered me a jelly baby at the David Livingston bridge. The route was more forested now and I was hoping the shade would reinvigorate me. It didn't. I really struggled for the next few miles up to CP2 at 18 miles.

It was hot and I walked for a long time especially on the road section through Blantyre, a notable low on an otherwise very scenic course. I reached CP2 in just over 3 hours, this was actually on plan, but I knew by then any plan was shot. I planned on being strong in the second half of the race and I felt anything but. I resolved to sit in the shade for 5 minutes and let myself recover slightly.

I'd frozen the bottle of water I left in my drop bag, this was one of the best ideas of the day, as when I got there it was deliciously chilled. I enjoyed a drink, and forced down some warm scotch egg and some bombay mix, and some very kind marshalls filled up my bottles. The end seemed an impossibly long way away at this point but I thought I could make it to CP3 and worry about the rest later.

I set off again walking and carrying the rest of my 1 litre bottle of iced water with me. This was too big to run far with, but I knew there we're plenty of bins in Strathclyde park where I could ditch it in a mile or so. I remember this as being the hottest part of the race. There was no shade and it was now 12.30 and the sun was beating down. I drank as much as a I felt I could with one eye on my healthy fear of dehydrating and one eye on my healthy fear of overhydrating and, tipped the rest over my head. Someone who may have been a marshall, or may have been a kind spectator asked how I was, “hot” I replied “I know” she said in the kind of tone you use with children when they are poorly and there isn't a thing you can to to help them.

The next bit was hard I tried a have a disciplined walk run strategy where I would run three quarters of a mile and then walk the remaining quarter, but I couldn't stick to it and just walked and ran as I felt, which was a lot more walking than I'd wanted. In the end I made it too the famed cow field.

We'd been warned to look out for cows but there were non to been seen, excellent I thought, I'll slip through their field undetected and I ran along following the river. At one point I was about to hop down the bank and soak my bandana in the river, only to notice a large cow swimming down the middle of the Clyde. Naively I'd been expecting the cow attack to come from the field, clearly underestimating the amphibious assault the beasties had planned. I postponed refreshing my headgear and pushed on quickly.

I left the field and walk/ran through the woods trying to eat a sesame seed bar. My recce run on the route seemed to pay off I only had one slight hesitation about the route, and was able to reunite a couple of other runners with the correct direction. It was not a day for running unnecessary extra miles, my body felt like it was working really hard just to keep cool, running on top of this was an effort for it. I ran into CP3 with a runner who I'd been leapfrogging on and off for a few miles as we walked and ran.

More frozen water at CP3, went down a treat mixed with my flat coke, I also put away half a bounty and some bombay mix and had another sit down in the shade. All this sitting around at checkpoints was very bad for my time, but I think was necessary in the heat. I rang Julie who was waiting at the finish to keep her updated with progress it was now 5:10 into the race and I reckoned I'd take 2:30 for the last section.

I walked out of the checkpoint to give my stomach some time to settle, and then having finally steeled myself to run was immediately confronted with one of the harder sections of the course. I obeyed the yellow spray paint telling me to jump the first fallen tree and to mind my heid on the next one, and was then confronted with a series of steeps ups and downs which required much walking. The first mile out of CP3 took me 25 minutes which even in the conditions was a little shameful and the distance seemed to pass so slowly every mile seeming to take an age.

I was then faced with a huge flight of stairs which I struggled up and then at the top decided it was time to stop and empty my shoes. This may have been a feeble excuse for a rest but none the less it felt nice and I doggedly tipped a few small stones out. Lots of people seemed to overtake while I was doing this, so I got up and hung on to the last two runners to go past, one of whom was wearing bright red shorts. Having someone to follow seemed to really help and I did a good job of running with them for a short while, but I was hanging on all the time and as soon as the path angled up I thanked them for the tow and let them go on their way, they looked strong and I didn't see them again.

There were more good samaritans manning an unofficial checkpoint. They offered me a cup of water and asked if I wanted another over my head. I said yes and one of their children smiled and seemed only too happy to oblige, an entertaining way for her to pass an afternoon.

I remembered the next section from my recce when it was ankle deep in mud, no danger of that today. I ran lots of this with another runner who had done the West Highland Way race this year. He said he was finding this every bit as tough, which actually gave me a real boost. I was finding it tough by this point and it made me feel a lot better to know that someone with a lot more experience of some really tough races felt the same. He also crystallised the idea of stopping at the shop in Kirkfieldbank at around 35 miles. I'd been idly dreaming of stopping for ribena, but his talk of ice lollies sounded like a real winner.

We ran together for a while and then I ran on a bit and made the shop, I was out of water so stocked up, but it looked like my fellow runners had cleaned the freezer of ice lollies. I helped myself to a tropical flavour ice pop and can honestly say that I have never spent a better 10p in all my life. I walked down the road eating it as happy as I had been all day.

This good mood saw me trudge slowly up the last worst hill of the day. At the top I could start to smell the finish. Down through the forest I was passed by a couple of people including one lady who annoying looked like she was just out for a short jog. I can only imagine I looked a sight in comparison, at least the chap she was running with had the good grace to look knackered..

My legs started to cramp as a I came down into the village of New Lanark where the race finished. I was running the flat and the downs now, it was nearly the end. I was prepared for the one mile loop that takes you out of the village and then back in to the finish, but this must be soul destroying if you haven't studied the route carefully.

I considered carefully whether there was anything left in the tank to defend my position if anyone came past. I felt like I'd earned whatever place it was by now, but if push came to shove I didn't think I could actually stop anyone taking it off me. Thankfully the issue never arose. A minor incident where I was nutmegged by a dog did nothing for my cramping legs, but by and large I knew it was in the bag now.

The finish came into view, down a couple of steps and over the line. Race director Lee looked a little reluctant to administer the post race hug that she is famed for, can't say I blame her at all, but like a true pro she gritted her teeth and got on with it to complete my Clyde Stride experience. I went to find my supporters and immediately had to referee an argument over which of my kids got to wear the medal first. A quick lie down in the shade and a rehydrating can of strongbow later and I'm starting to feel human again.

7:40 and 48^th place, but I'm fairly content just to finish, on a cooler day I'd have been faster but I doesn't really matter. A great day out and I am now an ultramarathon runner.

A great big helping of reality check

I went for a run with my local running club tonight. This is something I've been meaning to do for a while and not got round to, I've never been in a club before and wanted to get an idea of what its all about. I'm also keen to have things to keep motivation going for after the Clyde Stride.

If you run on your own it's all very easy to think you're great. You're faster than all your mates who do the odd 10k or nothing at all, and are very impressed by your ability to string a few miles together. It's quite easy to get carried away and enter an ultramarathon, all you need is £18, a computer and a boundless sense of optimism. It's easy to turn up to a running club thinking "I'll be fine, I'd be a asset to this club"

It wasn't quite like that. Everyone was very nice, but also very fast. Comfortably cruising along at 7 m/m pace. I held on for a while but with a big race looming dropped off after 6 miles and found my own pace.

Keen to go back - can only get faster I think. But will have to wait. Tapering properly next week.

Garmin psycology

I've been taking it quite steady since my 30 mile training extravaganza the other week, running little and often. The light nights make it easier and I managed a full seven days of consecutive running which I've never ever done before.

Still last Sunday evening I remembered that I am actually meant to be training for an endurance event so I went for a bit of a longer run, albeit it with no real plan. I had vague notions of going up Traprain Law, a volcanic hill rising out of the East Lothian farmland, but this felt kind of ambitious and I'd settle for just checking out some new paths on the way.

It was all going fine. I got to the foot of the Law, and realised it was getting late and there really wasn't time to go up so headed back. I'd done over eight and a half miles so new I'd have racked up a decent distance by the time I'd got home.

I'd just started the return leg when my Garmin gives a funny kind of a beep. Low battery. Now however much I like to pretend to myself I'm above this kind of stuff, the idea of having some unlogged miles put the fear of God into me. So for no really good reason my run changed from a leisurely saunter along the river Tyne, to a serious struggle to beat the battery.

The next thing I know I'm tearing along the trails in a way that's totally unnecessary for someone who is on a long run and meant to be thinking about tapering. I was going so speedily I clearly put the wind up what I think was a red deer, which rather than tangle with something as menacing with me thought it would make more sense to leap out at me and bound into the river whilst barking like a dog. The resulting adrenaline certainly helped me along, I'm used to watching out for the buzzards but didn't think I had to fear the herbivores.

On getting back to the road some serious running was done, head down and fast, just over seven minute miles. Whilst doing all sorts of hard sums in my head. If the beep meant 20% battery left and I'd run for 84 minutes the if I reached the North Berwick turning in 18 minutes then everything would be OK. Whole mathematical castles were built on the shakiest of foundations to convince myself that it was all going to be OK as long as I kept going, and fast.

I made it back to the outskirts of town, properly knackered and reckoned it was safe to slow so I did. And made to the end of my run without hearing the dreaded beep of a dying Garmin. It ran out 30 seconds after I stopped, and I was left pondering the sheer ridiculousness of it all, unable to work out if the added intensity to the second half of my workout was a good thing or not.

Then I looked at the times somehow in spite of feeling like I spent the whole way home on the edge it was still a very slight positive split, the fast miles had left me drained and the final three were very slow.

All of which goes to show that Garmins can do funny things to you, I'm somewhat stupid for allowing it to, the deer was daft for jumping in the river and no-one really emerges with  much credit.

The land of the ultra-runner

Today I had my first experience of the land of the ultrarunner. That place beyond 26.2 miles which I'd never previously seen before.

The Plan

Simple - run three ten mile loops from my house. The race I'm training for, the Clyde Stride, is split into four segments of 10 miles each with a drop bag at each. So the idea was to test out the food ideas for these drop bags as well as my ability to do the distance and give me a better idea of pacing. I'd selected a mixed loop of trail and road to try and match the race itself, and tried to mirror the terrain as best I could. My fairly ill informed guess before setting off was that each loop should take about 1h 30, and a time between 4h 30 and 5h would be a good result.

What happened

It all went scarily like clockwork, I struggled a little to get going and was a little daunted by the distance to go. The first time my garmin beeped it was quite sobering to think I would hear the thing beep 29 more times before I stopped. I also felt a bit full running so soon after breakfast. But this all passed in about three miles and I settled down into my stride. I ran nine minute miles at first which felt about right and I speeded up slightly as I got into things.

The first lap passed easily after that, and after a quick pit stop I grabbed my headphones and tuned out to a mixture of music and podcasts for the second lap which also felt fairly smooth.

I started the third lap at a similar speed to the first and still felt strong. The marathon passed in 4h 05, and I passed into the mythical land of the ultra. It felt much the same, my legs were still getting a bit sore and I was ready for the end. Although I was pleased that I felt better than I did at 24 miles in the marathon. The last 3 miles I began to slow a bit and I was glad to stop. But overall I felt I ran fairly smoothly.

0 to 10 miles - 1h 33
10 to 20 miles - 1h 33
20 to 30 miles - 1h 36

Total 4h 42

Food

On 1st leg

• 2 slices malt loaf with butter (right at start)
• 2/3 ninebar (around 30mins)
• Energy gel (around 1h)

At first stop

• 2 slices malt loaf with butter

On 2nd leg

• 1/2 bounty (around 2h)
• Energy gel (2h 30)

At second stop

• 1/2 scotch egg
• 1/2 bottle flat(ish) coke

On 3rd leg

• 1/2 bounty (3h30)
• Energy gel (4h)

This all worked pretty well, there was nothing that made be feel bad, although I didn't want things in quite the same volume as I has envisaged - the idea of a whole scotch egg appalled me.

The other thing I learned was that if you put coke in the bottle for my bottle belt, and it isn't totally flat. Then the pressure will build up as you run and the drink fizzes, until it shoots out a fountain of coke onto you elbow - much stickiness. To be honest I think having one bottle of coke and one of water left me short on water and feeling thirsty - not sure I'll do this again.

I took the gels on the move, but walked up a nasty little hill while eating foot on the run.

Animals

Buzzard (again), baby deer (took me ages to work out what they were), baby bird that couldn't fly marooned on the forest floor, hare, mouse.

Conclusion

I was ready to stop by the end, but I think your body gets used to the idea of what it is doing and had I being doing 40 it would have gone on, albeit maybe a bit slower. I'm pretty sure I can do the 40 mile distance and that I have a sensible food strategy worked out, but you never know how it will go on the day. I need to have a bit more of a think about pacing though...

Flirting with my injury

Its been a funny couple of weeks running wise.

I'm running my first ultra in July so it's starting to seem quite close, and I've been trying to step up the amount of training I'm doing. I've probably not been doing too much extra mileage, but I've been doing it in bigger runs. I'd also taken to doing some of my shorter runs over my local hill, with some barnstormingly fast descending - by my standards anyway.

At the end of May I did three runs of 18 miles in the space of 10 days, and my body pushed back suggesting this was a bit much.

I've always had a few issue with my right hip, and this is an injury I've flirted with over the years, thankfully without it ever blossoming into a long term relationship. It seemed to view my three long runs in quite quick succession as an invitation to take things to the next level, and quite cheekily induced its friend my right knee to join in.

I'm not used to experiencing pain when I'm running to the extent I want to stop, so took this as a sign I needed to ease back. I don't really know what is wrong with me. Dr internet seems to keep talking about something called an IT band, but running too much doesn't seem to help and running sensibly seems to keep things under control.

So I had the best part of a week off, and have run only slowly and steadily since then. The key focus is that I need to do a long (30 miles(ish)) run soon as prep for my ultra. In all honesty I'm not sure that physically I need it, but I've had it planned in and I think my confidence on the day will suffer if I haven't done at least one marathon + length run.

So nice and slow running with resolutions to do lots more stretching and to work on my core strength seem to be helping. I listened to a podcast last week in which Marco Consani sagely remarked that no-one stretches when things are going well - I emphasised with this.

Had a lovely run in the sunshine on Tuesday evening complete with baby llama, although I feared for the worst when I saw a buzzard near the start (not a good omen previously) I felt OK so hopefully moving in the right direction.

 

Clyde Stride recce

So todays plan was to recce the 2nd half of the Clyde Stride which I'm running in July. This day had been carefully booked in, we had friends to stay with in the west, and it worked with my wife's work. Shame that it happened to be a complete shocker weather wise. I first got nervous when the rain was pouring down on the M8. My windscreen wipers rarely see speed setting 3, but it was needed far too much on the drive over.

So the plan was this. Drop the family at our friends, drive to New Lanark, leave the car, walk to Lanark train station, get train to Motherwell, run back to car. Simple. First part was fine, walked to the station eating a sandwich (ham salad and coleslaw) got train (£4.10 single!!!, to end up in Motherwell). Got to Motherwell, and after some disorientation found my way down to Strathclyde Park and was properly off on the route.

Annoyingly I realised I was carrying far too much water literally minutes after I passed the last bin I could have dumped the stuff in. I didn't see another bin until New Lanark, although I quickly drank the water cos it was pissing me off, I had to carry the bottle all the way with me. Only the Gods of karma kept me from flinging the stupid bottle into the Clyde but I didn't feel I needed more punishment.

Experienced Clyde Stride types are forever banging on about the coo field (Scottish for cow field). It lived up to its fearsome reputation. There were a few stand offs with militant cows, in the end I took to the extreme edge of the river bank to get past them, figuring that in an emergency I could outswim a cow (which I probably couldn't). They let me past, but I did end up with bird shit all over my jacket  as a result of climbing down the sandbanks and never quite felt clean afterwards.

The first bit passes fairly easily, I was a bit put out by this sign which I felt was crying out for a Clyde Walkway west arrow, but I muddled through.

 

 

Mauldslie bridge arrived quite easily and I was lulled into something of a false sense of security about how easy this all was.

 

 

I soon came to a great opportunity for a limbo spot prize during the race

 

 

and then had my first encounter with some proper mud

 

 

I don't own any trail shoes but if I did this is precisely the sort of terrain that would leave me thinking long and hard about what shoes to wear, ahhh the advantages of limited funds. This whole bit through some ridiculously named woods was most unpleasant. However it was nothing compared to the unremittingly grim bit next to the sheep fields after Crossford. Here the mud was both deep and unavoidable. It was hard today as I just couldn't run and slipped everywhere, but on race day with 30+ miles in my legs this would be properly tough.



 

 

It was great to get past this bit and down towards New Lanark, it was all a bit of  a struggle now but the end was in sight. The paths down through the woods were a little hair-raising, but I got there and found the energy to run past the car and to the falls of Clyde, which in spite of the rain were a little tame.



 

 

Then back to the car, a well earned thermos of coffee and back to our friends, where I learned that my eldest had been sick, my trip to the pub was off, and a drive back home in the pissing rain was in order.

 

Still very pleased with my day, I did the distance without too much trouble, my food seemed to work (high 5 gels, a bounty,  a nine bar, some soreen and some haribo) there isn't too much to be scared off in the terrain, and thanks to some mid run plastering, no nipple issues at all.

 

As I missed my trip to the pub, I followed up my tour of Lanarkshire with my own world tour...

 

  





Chasing rainbows

Spectacular weather on my run home tonight, rain, sun, wind. But the highlight was the amazing rainbows over the sea as I neared home.

Ran well too, 7.30 min miles for much of the way. The benefits of a lunchtime cake.

Eat like a pig : Run like a fox

I didn't really intend that this blog would be about what I eat, I think that would be even duller than me talking a lot about running. But given that I'm not telling anyone about this blog I guess none of that matters.

Anyway after not eating very much last week and trying to run a long way, without much success, this week I felt a new approach was called for. Well I say new but actually eating a lot of rubbish and running so I can get away with it, has been one of my routes to success for a long time.

So I tried the same run home from work as last week (18 miles), but instead of the salad and vegetables, I went for toast and muesli for breakfast, for lunch - masses of pasta and a chocolate muffin and some energy gels and a bounty mid run. I'd never ever considered eating a bounty before in any context let alone a sporting one, but I was reading somewhere about someone who ate one during the D33 and thought it might work. Turns out to be a great idea.

I hadn't really done gels since last years marathon, and they required a special lunchtime pilgrimage to the very busy running shop. I think they felt a little bad when they realised I had been waiting 10 min to buy two gels, but I love looking at all the cool running stuff I can afford. They are hideous and messy things, but they do serve a purpose, although I always feel like and idiot running along, trying to curl them up like a toothpaste tube to squeeze out those last few precious drops.

So running home was fine. Held a decent pace all the way. Never felt bad, mentally or physically in spite of taking a longer and hiller route. The wind was also against me, but living on the Scottish coast I'm used to that, and my thoughts on the wind are probably worth a blog in themselves.

The conclusion. Eat, and don't worry too much.

Carbo unloading

So this week, on something of a whim,saw me give up carbs for five days. My wife decided that she was going to so I thought I would give it a try to see what would happen. After all you hear lots of stories of people being very successful on paleo diets and such like.

Now when I say give up carbs, that would be to undersell the 50g of brown rice I was allowed each day. To be fair when we had brown rice and curry it was fine. But when the days precious ration of carbohydrate was in the form of puffed brown rice cereal it was hard not to feel a little mournful. Puffed brown rice cereal is the evil twin of sugar puffs, which themselves are pretty evil so that gives you some idea of how bad the stuff is.

Anyway, in an amusing twist of fate, this week was also to be my hardest running week so far in my build up the Clyde Stride in July. 13 miles on Tuesday and 17 on Thursday. Both after a full day at the office, getting off the train one and two stops early respectively.

Tuesday was hard. For ten miles I was fine and then I really started to struggle, at the end my legs felt like molten lead - sort of like a Victorian terminator - and the slightest hill was a struggle.Any naïve visions of my body adjusting to its new diet and setting down to burn off its abundant fat supplies were quickly abandoned. I got in feeling drained and sick and didn't feel better until I had forced down some brown rice. And when I found myself crying at don't tell the bride and grand designs, I realised that perhaps my emotional state wasn't all it could be either.

By Thursday my five days were over and I had feasted on some muesli for breakfast, and some quinoa for lunch, as well as a pre run banana. All forbidden in the previous five days, but sadly not enough. My run started nicely, a beautiful path, and a buzzard in the trees. As it turned out I was very glad to meet this magnificent bird of prey early on, as had he seen me ten miles later he would have been circling ominously, hopeful of a meal - although if he'd needed carbs he would have been sadly disappointed.

I got to about 15 miles and struggled, not as much as Tuesday, but enough. You kind of get to the point where if you are spending 3 hours of your evening doing something it is disappointing to get to the end and find you haven't enjoyed it. And that was really what Thursday was.

Two days later I've probably put back on most of the five pounds I lost, and haven't run since, so think the lesson was that it was a silly idea. Which I could probably have guessed the before, but I'm glad I learned the hard way.