I did run a marathon tho
Lessons for the long run
This piece is about my experiences of running a marathon to raise money for the charity ‘Melanoma Focus’. If you would like to donate to the fundraising page, which closes at the end of May, please find it here.
I began the year by writing a piece about my intention to run a marathon.
It seems fair, as a man of my words, to check back in with you now to say that the marathon is complete. The race is run.
I ran all through the winter. Indeed, my early-year runs, clad in a layer of running Christmas presents – thermal leggings, a running sweatshirt and, most usefully, thin black gloves – were some of my most pleasurable ones of the whole process. There are few people out at that time, and when you spot somebody out on the trails in late January, you know you’re both going all-in as it were.
To run from mid-January, as I did, means that your training coincides with the spring; you are working towards both a race and the end of winter. I recommend it. I’d also advise a minimum of five months serious training; I did four, and felt just a bit short of where I needed to be, having started the year with a bout of flu.
My training schedule said four times a week; one short run, two medium ones and a long one Sundays. At the age of 40, I found I could manage three; one short run, one medium-length and one long one Sundays. Once or twice, I got out on a Sunday to do the long run and my body just would not comply.
All in all, I reckon I did about 80% of the training mandated; as ever, things happened, illness and niggles. Another factor was boredom, particularly as, mainly due to knowing their distance and being able to measure my pace on them, I tended to run the same few routes. As such I tried to plan in organized running events and I ran two organized event half marathons during the training period. I found running with other people motivating to keep going.
One nice thing about training for a 26.2-mile run was that my times over all the shorter distances improved too. I saw my half marathon time go from 2 hours 29 minutes to 2 hours 17 and then 2 hours 10. In addition my 5k time went down below 26 minutes and will, I hope, continue to improve. I didn’t feel much acceleration across this process; what was improving was an ability to maintain a constantly steady pace, an overall increase in endurance. In addition, I found I could run longer differences more easily and with less suffering.
I got one minor injury during the running and rested until it was better. I was lucky, but I think at my age there’s no other choice than to be cautious, which is a general description of my attitude to distance running.
Overall, I found the health benefits surprisingly linear; more regular running saw me become more fit generally. If you’re running to lose weight, I wouldn’t expect too much at my age, but then again, I didn’t watch my diet particularly closely. It was only in the last weeks and the marathon itself that weight began to shift – I lost 1kg over the course of the race day itself.
I didn’t really cross-train, mainly because I am too lazy. I did a bit of yoga, and cycled, but I’m just not interested enough in any part of running other than the running to exercise outside of that. This has to be a general rule: The right sport for you is the one you love doing.
The main error I made during the training was failing to schedule a formal run longer than a half marathon, say a 20-miler, which I could have run with other people and hence felt compelled to complete. Left to my own devices my training topped out at about 16 miles for the longest run. Don’t get me wrong, that’s still a huge slab of running, but what I needed was the psychological confidence that I could do the second half of a marathon, as well as just experiencing what the second half of a marathon feels like. The demands in the second half become much greater; in the back 13 miles things start to get a bit proggy, a bit hallucinatory, a bit far-out. I just needed to have that in the bank a month or so ahead of the race, and though I ran an awful lot, I never quite got there.
Overall, my main lesson from the training is that a marathon is the point when a commitment to run becomes more than just a casual one. You’re basically giving up every weekend to run for a third of a year or more, and there can be a sense that, tired after a working week, all you have to look forward to is ‘Oh, running again.’
On to the race itself.
I ran the Milton Keynes Marathon on May 1st; I didn’t get into the London one, but my interest was in running the distance rather than doing so at any particular location. Besides, I’ve heard so many people do London it can become impossible to actually run.
The night before my race I didn’t sleep well, not due to nerves but that, without my knowledge, a heater was left on in my Airbnb room. The result was that I felt spaced out and drowsy the morning before, even a bit feverish. That’s an important thing to bear in mind: No matter how much you train, you might not necessarily feel on top form the day of the race.
Still, I made it to the starting line. From that point on I felt pretty much pure pride in being there, and was fully relaxed at the starting gun; with a distance of 43km, you don’t feel how you start is that crucial.
The first half was a dream, going along really smoothly, chatting to people, never running better. Unfortunately, from just over mile 16, my marathon became a mess; my running became stop-start and by the 20th mile I was experiencing pretty bad cramp. It wasn’t a case of forcing myself to run on. I just couldn’t. I had reached the limits of what my body is capable of at the present time.
Indeed, as I came again to the finishing line I witnessed the sight of the pacer for 5hrs 15, the lowest of my target times, overtaking me. In the end I finished just over 5hrs 20, limping over the line in rather a lot of pain. My spouse, hugely proud of me, provided me with an immediate care packet. We ate an Indian takeaway that evening to celebrate.
I’ve been a bit reluctant to tell people my time when I asked because it was much worse than I’d hoped – I was aiming for anything under five hours. Still, hang on. I did run a marathon. My time still represents going at nearly a mile every twelve minutes. And this is from someone who couldn’t run a 5k in 2019. I still retain wonderment and joy at what my body, now in its fifth decade, is capable of – and as a friend reminded me, the first guy who ran the distance died!
One major thing does brings me pride; the large amount of money I raised for charity. I ran the race in memory of my friend Alexandra B. Cooper, who died in 2013. It was to commemorate a decade since her passing from melanoma at the young age of 29.
I won’t say I ran the whole race with Alex by my side because by the end I could barely think of anyone or anything at all. But let’s say I ran in Alex’s spirit – thankful to her memory, but also aware that the lesson of her life and early death was that we should try and make the most out of all our days on this earth, and that even if we waste time we should try and do so joyously.
I know Alex would be proud of me, and thankful to all of you who donated to Melanoma Focus, to aim to eradicate the disease which cost her life.
I’ll have great memories of the day; the early morning walk to the race, the excitement on the start line, the people who I ran with who were asking pub trivia questions as they went, running along with the pacers for half a mile to U2’s ‘Beautiful Day’. The young woman who ran in a dress and without a timer telling the man ahead of me it was all about freedom. The men holding out a sign saying ‘Lube’, with regards to whom it was only on my second time round that I realized they were actually offering lube. I thought they were just praising the concept.
Before the race I vowed that it would be my first and only marathon; a friend told me once that a doctor once told me that he had every respect for someone who ran a marathon once and zero for someone who ran a second one. That definitely held after I crossed the finishing line.
But now a few weeks later a little voice has started. Maybe I should have another go – after all, it’s a bit much to expect me to get everything right first time, and I’ve got 2/3 of the running really sorted. Why not do the last little bit properly?
Also, I’ll know not to eat quite as many jelly babies next time.
Congrats!
Congrats on your biggest achievement in life! Proud of you!