Running a marathon – some think it’s crazy, the last thing they’d ever want to do. To others it’s what they live for, the thrill of pushing oneself to the limits both physically and mentally, exploring the boundaries of mind-over-body.

For me, running’s a timeless pleasure; a chance to pit body against environment, away from all mod cons and pestering distractions. It teaches perseverance, clears the mind, removes stress, keeps you fit, makes you happy and, most importantly, gets you moving.

I’ve run 26.2 miles before, but never as part of an official marathon. Sunday 15th April was therefore my debut, in the lively city of Brighton.

Here’s my account of the training that got me there, and the race itself.

End of year, 2011

Looking back, I remembered the pain of the Downlands 30 back in July, a formidable 30 mile running challenge across the undulating and windy terrain of the South Downs. I’d pushed myself harder than ever before, completing the course in 5.5 hours. It was predominantly unmarshalled, so you had to carry your own water and carbohydrate replacements. As an event it had taught me the importance of training properly, with dedication and focus.

Put simply, I knew the pain to expect from the Marathon.

I’d heard that 4:30 is the average time for men completing the marathon distance, with 3:30 a reasonable target for a recreational runner wanting to really test themself. Under 3hrs is a common goal for the more ‘gifted’ amateurs, and under 2:20 for the ‘elites’.

I’ve always enjoyed running, but have never had the best physiological make up to be considered a ‘natural’ or ‘gifted’ contender. I therefore set myself a goal of 3:30, believing that with the right training I could achieve this time. Not bad for a debut.

First things first

I knew that to achieve my target I’d first need to gain the required training knowledge. Running over 20 miles is not simply a case of donning a pair of running shoes and pounding mile upon mile of tarmac. It actually becomes quite scientific.

My main source of inspiration was Runners’ World – http://runnersworld.co.uk

This gave me the sub 3:30 training plan I required, plus the real-life stories and words of advice I required to get smart and keep going.

The plan I chose was 12 weeks’ long, and included a variety of weekly workout types – strength training, easy runs, tempo runs, threshold runs, speed sessions, hill work and the weekly long run. Throughout the 12 weeks you’re taken to a maximum of 20 continual miles and taught the basic dos and don’ts of injury prevention. You’re also taught how to eat right, plus the importance of sufficient rest and nightly sleep.

I also began watching some motivational videos around areas such as strategy, running psychology and the all important ‘keeping going’.

Cold mornings

Perhaps my biggest challenge was when to train. With a taxing job and a family to look after, daytimes and early evenings weren’t really viable options. I therefore started rising early each training day (~5am) and getting sessions in before breakfast. Strength training was done in the gym on the way home from work 3 days per week, plus I cycled 10 miles a day.

I stuck to the plan January-April, a challenge I don’t claim was easy. It took perseverance; I’m not a morning person and the weather was often freezing cold. I did miss a few sessions due to other priorities, so didn’t train as hard as I could have, had I followed the plan religiously. Looking back, cramming higher mileage and getting more sleep would have improved my finishing time.

My favourite session was hill repeats. In races I’m strongest on hills and finishes, enjoying the sensation of all-out effort. My least favourite sessions were the threshold runs, involving sustained fast pace over 6-8 miles at a time. I always ran on my own, enjoying the solitude and concentration it allowed.

On March 4th I ran the Eastbourne Half Marathon, to get some race experience and ensure I was on target. It was a tough run, with hills, rain and wind competing against us all.

Getting close

The end of March saw the beginning of the infamous ‘taper’. This is a time, typically after your final 20 mile training run, when you begin winding the miles and effort down in preparation for the main event. Apparently it takes the average person 3 weeks to fully recover from a 20 mile run, hence the critical timing and purpose of the taper.

Whilst I knew in theory that this taper was doing me good, it did feel as though I was losing some fitness. During the final week I even stopped cycling to work, just to ensure I was fully rested and recovered.

15th April, 2012

The sun was shining and the wind wasn’t too strong (~13 mph), meaning the run out towards Ovingdean wouldn’t be overly strenuous, and I’d be in with a chance of hitting 3:30.

I’d slept over at a friend’s house the night before, to be as close to the start line in Preston Park as possible. At 7.30am, clad in running vest and shorts, with number carefully pinned in place and kit bag filled with essentials such as energy gels etc, I set off on the 30 min walk to the starting area. The atmosphere in Preston Park was one of nervous energy; thousands of people milling around in various stages of pre-race preparation: stretching, jogging up and down, getting ready for the official warm-up, in huddles chatting, packing kit bags for the baggage lorry, downing energy drinks/gels or taking a last minute loo stop.

After handing my bag over to the baggage lorry crew, I found some space and warmed up for 30 mins or so, doing ‘dynamic’ rather than ‘static’ stretches, as we’re all told to do these days (static stretches are left for after the race).

Finally we were invited to enter the correct starting corral, depending on what colour number you were wearing (red for under 4 hours, blue for under 5 and green for under 6). As numbers began to build at the front of the red corral, the energy became palpable; nervous banter and the smell of deep-heat muscle rub filled the cold morning air, with everyone trying to stay warm and motivated for the long road ahead. The five minute warning came and went, then the 10 second count down. The runners all bunched together, desperate to get going. The gun went and we all moved off, following the elite runners for an initial circuit of Preston Park.

Not too fast, now

The main mistake people make in a marathon is to run the first few miles too quickly, causing lactic acid to build up, forcing the heart to work too hard too soon. I was careful to stick to my race plan, using my GPS watch to maintain a steady 8 min/mile pace. Once the rush of the first mile was over, I picked the pace up a little until I’d caught up with the 3:30 pace makers. Then it was time to zone out, get into ‘the flow’ and enjoy the wonderful marathon atmosphere.

And so the first few miles rushed by – down London Road, round the North Laines, the Old Steine, up and round The Level, past St Peter’s Church and then round and up St James’ Street (the first hill). At mile 5 I was feeling good – time to take some water on – very important to stay adequately hydrated with intake of both water and high GI carbohydrates at the correct intervals. I chose a mixture of SIS energy gels and Powerade drink.

Moving on out towards Ovingdean the crowd remained in good voice, with the roads widening and the headwind beginning to slow the pace just a little. I remained with the 3:30 pace makers, who skilfully increased and decreased the pace dependant upon various factors such as incline and road width etc.

We pressed on out, throwing a 180 degree turn at Ovingdean college and then beginning the long straight all the way back to The Hilton Hotel and the half way point. By this time it really was a case of maintaining pace, keeping spirits positive and ensuring a continual adequate intake of water and carbs. The 20 mile mark always looms large in the mind of a marathoner, as this is where the body can run out of glycogen, causing energy levels to drop to the point where the mere thought of putting one foot in front of the other can seem an impossibility. This state is often referred to as ‘hitting the wall’ – every marathoner’s nightmare, to be avoided at all costs.

Halfway

I passed halfway in 1:44, right on track for a 3:30 finish.

Then came the toughest part of the race (so I’d heard), running all the way down Church Road, before returning via a Boundary Road loop, new to this year’s event. Half way down Church Road, with the sight of a mile of straight road ahead of me, I allowed despondency to set in. 17 miles down and I was beginning to get tired, the thought of having to retrace my steps not proving a great motivator.

I saw the 3:30 pace makers move about half a mile ahead of me before I finally picked the pace back up again, to an inner chant of “I can, I can, I can”. And so began the most gruelling part of the run, no longer fun and completely reliant upon mind over body.

Mile 20

At mile 20 we passed through a giant red inflatable gate, displaying words to the effect of ‘The road to hell – we know because we’ve been there’ (I can’t remember the exact words as my brain had other more important things to concentrate on, such as simple self preservation!).

The road out to Shoreham power station and back was eerie in a way – the crowds were thin and all that could be heard was the patter of footsteps, heavy breathing and the occasional person crying (yes, crying) out in pain. Through gritted teeth I kept the pace up and made it back to Hove seafront. The crowds became heavy again, with much applause and handfuls of out-stretched jelly babies and orange segments. The encouragement was loud and the pathway through the people was narrow, a little like scenes I’ve seen in the Tour De France where the crowd surges in, clambering to high-five the passing cyclists. I actually found this rather off-putting, as all I wanted to do was zone-out from the pain I was feeling and concentrate on reaching the finishing line.

A little blurry

I don’t remember much of the next 2 miles, except that it felt like a blur, a euphoria of pain and no-holds-barred forward motion. Thoughts of stopping were painfully cast aside every few seconds, with complete concentration given to throwing one foot in front of the other, eyes fixed on the ever-nearing Palace Pier.

As we exited the promenade back onto the road I managed to pick the pace back up to around 7:30 min/mile, reminding myself it was just 1 mile to go. By now I knew the 3:30 goal was out of reach, so focus shifted to finishing in under 3:45.

With half a mile to go I again increased the pace, entering Madeira drive at around 7 min/mile. Where was the finish line? I expected to see it as I passed the end of Palace Pier, but it remained obscured from view. I wondered how much further I could keep going, but increased the pace again nonetheless. Then I saw the finish gantry – never before had the word ‘FINISH’ looked so appealing! I sprinted for the line, crossing in 3:42. A good effort I thought as I collected my finisher’s medal and t-shirt.

The hardest part of the marathon was still to come – returning to my feet after pulling on some warm clothes, then walking up the steep flight of seafront steps and hiking the 2 miles back to the car. I hold this as my greatest victory that day.

Will I run Brighton again in 2013? Yes I will (already signed up!), but this time I’ll train harder/smarter and achieve under 3:30.

Do I recommend you have a go? Definitely, or at the very least go and cheer the runners on.

As Kathrine Switzer is quoted as saying:

If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.

Some questions for you:

It’s helpful to spend time exploring questions such as these, helping you to reflect and ensure balance in your life.

To kick-off

There are so many things in life that constantly vie for our attention. As we progress from children to adults, we make subconscious decisions on the weight and priority to allow certain things.

I use the word ‘subconscious’ deliberately here.

As humans, we have an inbuilt survival mechanism. We become aware of the things in our society that bring supposed longevity, safety and a heightened sense of self worth and recognition, and over time place increased effort into the maintenance and protection of these things.

Let’s take work, or your ‘career’ as an example. This brings money (hopefully!), status, recognition and a means to be independent and unreliant upon others (or so we’re lead to believe). In turn, we seek to protect our career, some people obsessively so. Once again, this obsession with career can happen subconsciously, we don’t realise the weight of attention we give to it, often at the ever increasing expense of our overall health and personal lives (family, friends and extracurricular pursuits).

The balance of our lives begins to shift.

Insignificant? Me?

A wise friend once suggested:

People are not so much afraid of losing their jobs, more the inability to pay their bills.

Stop and think for a minute: how much of your daily drive to do ‘stuff’, get going, keep other people happy, comes from a deep-seated fear of failure, becoming insignificant or obsolete, a nobody, falling behind in the great queue of progress?

Hey, stop and think about that just a moment longer, particularly the ‘insignificant’ part.

The culture of Getting Things Done (GTD)

Everyday is a never ending list for some people. We strive, we grapple, we plan, we tick things off and we forever seek that next pocket of ‘space’ – that well earned reward. For many the reward becomes a glass or 5 of wine in the evening, or countless film watching, box sets of this and that, endless Facebook, shopping, ‘nice meals’ – heck, anything that allows them to escape the daily grind that will begin again before they know it.

Phew… stop for a second.

Pause for thought

If you’re honest, does this in any way reflect you? Could things be different? Do you really need all this scurrying about in your life? Do you really need to be pacing through the days, weeks, months and years at the pace you currently are? Where’s it all heading, where’s the winner’s podium? I’d suggest it’s likely just a distant mirage.

Take some time today to pace yourself and think wisely about the drivers in your life. My reckoning is that you’ll discover many of them are subconscious—subtle yet powerful—that you’re being carried along by things far deeper than you’d perhaps care to realise.

The real prizes are there for the taking every day – time with family and friends, the beauty of nature around you, wide open spaces… but they’ll quietly pass you by if you don’t stop and look. It’s in these places that, I’d suggest, you may just find a true sense of significance.

Take 5 minutes now to give that some quiet thought, without the distraction of email, telephone, the internet or TV. Difficult? You gotta learn to slow down.

Can you imagine how oddly we’d have viewed the modern office culture just 40 years ago, with our days spent tucked behind a desk staring at a screen? We hardly move, except to take a ‘comfort break’ or walk to a meeting room. I mean, take away the electricity and what are we doing? Just sitting, staring, tapping our fingers.

The comfort of a chair

Yet there’s something fascinating about being able to interact with the world from the comfort of a chair. Knowledge, masses of it, just a click away. We can go anywhere, see anything, talk to anyone.

For many of us, the problem’s simply staying on track; there are so many distractions and means of communication jostling for our attention:

And then, when we manage to escape the office, the social media addiction kicks in:

So… many… ways… to… while… away… time.

In the meantime what’s happening to sit-down meal times, reading our children bed time stories, actually talking to real friends and family – not just playing the game of ‘will you be my virtual buddy’ and ‘I must tell the world all about myself’.

I have a fascination with the depth and breadth of the internet’s virtual landscape and information it brings me, but, the question is, do I really need it? What’s it actually adding to the quality of my life and depth of relationship with those in the same physical space as me? Perhaps it’s a distraction that’s ultimately hurting me; information, advertising, opinion and communication overload…

Social Network importance

Some claim “one’s online social network will become their most valuable future asset”. This may be true, as a necessary means of survival within the virtual society we’re busy building. The reality is it’s rather odd, as the virtual starts becoming more real and important than the physical. It’s all back-to-front and inside-out, but then we never really stop to think about that. Just think how many people spend their evenings communicating online with strangers thousands of miles away, but don’t know the name of their next door neighbour.

Change starts with a choice

For me, hope for change starts with a choice. A choice to live differently and make definite decisions about each area of life. So often we drift, driven by the misconception that we have no choice, that society and culture dictate the pace of life and that there’s no way out. That’s wrong. We can choose to dig our heels into the wheel, slow it down and change course. But to do so requires graft; no truly good thing comes as easily as society permits us to believe; where interest free credit lets me ‘have stuff right now’, a beautiful garden takes much planning and hard work. Real life works that way, but the resulting satisfaction’s far greater, engaging and lasting.

Zen and tea

I enjoy reading Timothy Ferriss’ blog – Experiments in Lifestyle Design. In his post ‘Zen, Tea, and the Art of Life Management’ he made the following inclusion:

I like these comments. Simple choices, refusing to live to the beat of society – positive steps towards change.