NDJ's London Marathon - week 13

This diary entry could also be accurately titled 'From the Sublime to the Ridiculous'...

Tuesday was amazing. I was only supposed to run for 35 minutes, so I decided to go out and run a fast 5k, which I haven't done since all this marathon training started. And it was bloody joyous, not just for the river at sunset and the ducks and the actual real live utterly random pheasant (which looked far too glossy to be wild - I suspect an escape in the manner of Chicken Run or similar), but because I had forgotten what it was like to feel fast and strong and finish with a joyful sprint that leaves you with a giant face splitting grin that lasts for hours afterwards. Granted, I'm five minutes slower than my 5k PB, coming in at 33 minutes, but that's only to be expected, and when running makes you feel this good, who cares?

Thursday was supposed to be an hour's run, but there was Life Stuff going on which meant cutting back to 45 minutes was the only sensible option. It was fine, steady enough, fast enough, etc etc. No pheasants though. 

And so we come to Saturday, and the 18 mile run. Or, more accurately, the 13 mile run followed by 5 miles of pathetic run-walk awfulness. Yes, reader - I bonked. Or hit the wall. Or fucked it all up. However you prefer to describe it really. On the plus side, I know what happened - I started off too fast, running my fastest ever half marathon, but then had absolutely nothing left in the tank. I've never felt so exhausted. I simply hadn't the energy to put one foot in front of the other any more. It wasn't a mental block - I was trying very hard to give myself a pep talk - it was a physical one. 

Research tells me that bonking happens when the body has consumed its supply of glycogen from the muscles, and can't convert the carbohydrates you're taking on during the run (sport beans etc) fast enough to replenish the reserves. There's also an element of dehydration slowing the absorption of those carbohydrates in the first place. And the best way to encourage this disastrous state of affairs? Start off at too high an intensity.

I'm hoping this is lesson learned. After all, 16 miles last weekend was fine, and I started struggling a lot earlier than that yesterday, so it wasn't about the distance. But however much logic you apply, it doesn't quite stop it being scary. I managed to limp through those last 7km through sheer force of will, but could I have limped through 21km (i.e. to a full marathon)? No, not a chance. 

Next weekend is the last long run, 20 miles, before scaling back to 13 and then 8 in the couple of weeks before the big day, which is 4 weeks today. I simultaneously want longer to prepare, and for it to be here so I can get it over with. I'm already starting to think about life on the other side of it. 

Don't forget, my suffering is in aid of Crisis, who support those suffering far worse. Please donate a few quid here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015

NDJ's London Marathon - week 12

There are some things about marathon training that you probably won't know unless you're lucky enough to have close friends who've done it, and feel comfortable discussing bodily functions. Such as, during the longest runs stage (i.e. now) you won't feel fit from it, you'll feel like shit and your body will go all to hell in the most unexpected ways. Some of the benefits I am currently enjoying include spots, eczema, dodgy digestion, and perhaps more predictably, painful joints. I was hobbling like an arthritic old lady by Saturday night after the 14 miler. On Sunday, anything that involved my knees bending (like, you know, sitting down) was difficult. And by Monday, the nagging pain in my left hip had become a stab with every step I took. Frankly, it's bloody ridiculous.

Now I admit, with the exception of my weekly Pilates session, I probably haven't done enough strength/physio work, so scared along by the hip pain (bursitis - lovely name), I did physio work on Monday night, and prayed it would help me get my Tuesday run in. It did, in that the hip pain was lessened, but I only did half an hour instead of 45-50 minutes, because the pain was flaring up again and sometimes even I am capable of exercising common sense.

Pilates on Wednesday, with its wondrous benefits in the core and hip areas, had a huge positive effect, but I decided to play it safe on Thursday and do another round of physio work rather than run. I figured that would ultimately have more benefit to the weekend long run than another short, and possible hip provoking, run would.

Preparing for a 16 mile run yesterday was very different to the week before - I wasn't scared of it, but I was worried about whether my hip would hold up. To that end, as well as taping my knees, which I have done on long runs in the past, I also followed instructions to tape a giant asterisk over my hip, with the pain spot right at its centre. Did I mention my tape is tiger print? It was quite a look... though thankfully mostly covered by my running tights.

Whether it was the physio, the tape, the extra rest between runs, or just my body adapting to the training, the 16 mile run was better than last week's 14 miler, at least while I was doing it. I still have a tendency to start off too fast and then struggle at the end, but I stuck to my run 5k then walk 1k formula, and although the last couple of kilometres of the fourth round of that were particularly tough, the1.75 'rogue' kilometres to finish the run (25.75km in all) pulled out a last burst of energy, and I finished feeling pretty okay, in just over 3 hours. My hip was twinging slightly and my knees were a little sore, but physically I felt in better shape than at the end of the 12 and 14 milers.

Well, until I almost fainted in the shower, couldn't really eat dinner, and keep feeling like I was swimming through glue.

I honestly don't know what happened. I followed my usual routine of water and cereal bars straight after the run, then stretching and showering, but my body just didn't cope very well for some reason. It was a little bit scary until I googled and found all the other runners with the same reactions after long runs, but even then, it wasn't a pleasant way to spend the evening.

Today I've been okay - knees and general leg muscles much less sore than last week, though hip has flared up again. I'll work through some stretching and gentle physio this evening and tomorrow, and then be running again on Tuesday. It's bizarre to think there's only two proper long runs left before the marathon (the half marathon two weeks before no longer qualifies as a long run, in this context). Honestly, I just want it to be over now.


Don't forget, I'm running the London Marathon in support of Crisis. If you're enjoying the tales of my suffering, why not donate a few quid to ease someone else's? http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015

NDJ's London Marathon - week 11

By Tuesday, the fear that came out of failing to run 14 miles last weekend had turned to anger. I was fuming about having to go for a run, I was spitting about how boring it all was, how the training had sucked the joy from running, how I'd rather go and have my other wisdom tooth taken out than go for a run... I spent the first 40 minutes of the 55 minute session writing a mean and sarcastic blog in my head about how marathon training is a soul-sucking, painful, utterly joyless experience; the last 15 minutes were quite good, which in context was terribly annoying.

Remember that thing about Tuesdays being cursed?!

Anyway, the one good thing I did do on Tuesday, though at my husband's instigation and not without grumbling, was order a new pair of trainers. Despite the new running shoes disaster early in my training, I had to face facts that my beloved Nikes had, after almost 600km, given up the ghost, and continuing to train in them was probably a bad idea. So I just ordered the exact same pair of very basic £40 Nike running shoes, and they arrived just in time for my Thursday run. Which was actually pretty good, and included at least five minutes of reasonably joyous running.

And so we come to today. 14 miles to run. I was so scared that I delayed going out by using spurious excuses for at least an hour, during which time I kept having to stop myself throwing up, because that's what happens when I'm that scared. During that hour I seriously contemplated jacking in the whole thing, because of course the real reason I was scared was that I knew this was crunch time. Let's face it, if I failed again, then the marathon wasn't realistically going to happen. 

It's never been one of my goals to run the whole marathon without walking. I know that's a really important component for some people, but I was always planning on walking through my H&N breaks (not least because I lack the coordination to drink and eat while running), and over the last few weeks I've been reading a lot about how much difference walk breaks can make to your body's ability to run further. So I decided to play it safe today, and split the run into four sections: three of 6km each  where 5km is run and the last km is walked, leaving the last section as 4.5km of pure running to the finish (14 miles is 22.5 km). 

And you know what? It worked like a bloody charm.

What I hadn't realised was that apart from the physical benefit, there's a huge psychological one. By focusing on each section, rather than the whole distance, I felt in control and much more confident. To be honest, the first three sections (to 18km) were relatively painless. In fact, it was only the last 3km that hurt and where my pace slowed, but that's been true of every long run - when I did 12 miles, the last 3km were hardest too. Today getting to 12 miles (19km) was fine, it only got hard once I was pushing beyond where I'd been before. Which is kind of fine, until you consider that there's going to be 6.2 miles of that on marathon day, because the longest run beforehand is 20 miles! But hey, that's a worry for another day. And actually, I did sprint the last 100 metres because I had energy left in the tank (and because I wanted it to be over!). 

Once I was home, eating toast and jam in the bath, I felt pretty fine. My legs are aching this evening, but not in a worrying way. And the fear is diminished, at least for now. 

So, 14 miles is done. Next weekend 16, then 18, then 20, then it's tapering down in the lead up to the day itself, six weeks tomorrow. God, in just over six weeks it'll be over. I can't decide if that's brilliant or terrifying. 

Don't forget, I'm running the London Marathon in support of Crisis. If you're enjoying this diary of my suffering, why not donate a few quid to help ease someone else's? http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/nikidjlondon2015 

NDJ's London Marathon - weeks 9 and 10

I had a plan. I really did have a plan. I knew from the beginning that we had a week's holiday in the middle of the marathon training period, and just like with the weekend away in Dublin at the start of the year, I just needed to plan around it.

So here was the plan: in week 9, I would run a normal medium length run midweek, then squeeze in a 10 miler on Friday before we left early Saturday. I would then push the 14 miler due that weekend to the next weekend (made possible by some leeway around long runs being pre-built into my training plan, presumably for exactly this reason), so then all I had to do was make sure I got two medium length runs in during our holiday, aka week 10, before coming home to the 14 miler today.

Yeah, that was the plan.

It started off okay with a nice regular run on the Wednesday, but then my early finish from work on the Friday, which would have allowed the 10 miler, didn't happen as planned, and even when I did get home I had a few more hours of work to get through before holiday. I did go out for a run, but it was a damn fast 5k in between dealing with budget drafts and bazillions of emails. And once we were on holiday, time went so fast, and there were so many pages to write and conversations to have, and beaches to walk on, that somehow those two runs never got done, and then I was going to fit in a quick one on the day we got back, but we ended up getting back later than planned, so that didn't happen, and before I knew it I was facing a 14 miler after not running at all for over a week.

I managed 10 miles, and most of it was horrific. The first 5k hurt because my legs were stiff and out of practice. The last 5k hurt like hell because my right IT band tightened to the point where it felt like I was hobbling rather than running. The 6k in the middle was okay, I guess. I limped home and was vaguely proud of managing not to cry until the front door closed behind me. I was crying because I was so angry with myself, by the way, not because everything hurt, though it did and still does.

I've found it really hard to write this. I guess I'm worried that for some people, it will reinforce the things they already think about my chances of running a marathon. Well, fuck 'em. I'm the only person who knows if I can run a marathon, and I still think I can.

So what's next? Back to the normal training schedule, with a physio appointment to look at the IT band if it's still hurting tomorrow, a Pilates session on Wednesday to get my hips opened up again, and another go at the 14 miler next weekend.