Week 16 - The Race - Day 112 of 112

Everybody out!

The plan was in place and it was to run out for the first 6 miles and get up to a 7.30 mile pace. Hold that until halfway then drop the hammer for the next 6 miles to &.20 and then foose the legs at 7.10, hold on for the last two to take me under a PB. If I did not feel great then the conservative plan was to drop back and accept a three and a half hour marathon. I could have had no excuses as the sun split the morning sky. I was up at 6.45 and woolfed down my porridge and glugged down my Infinite carbo drink. Out of the door by 8 to get the DLR down to Greenwich. The crowds were already manic as I tried to board the train. Amazing there were actually people on the train who were not going to the marathon and they had one hell of a problem trying to get off the train at their stop. Got off the train at Greenwich and wanted someone to take a picture. I asked one of the stewards. No he said. Not allowed. Against regulations. What a lot of bollocks! Have a great race...not! 

Can you take my picture?

The walk to Greenwich Park was surreal. A mass of people in various shades of lycra in quite contemplation on a Sunday morning. It felt warm. Much warmer then Boston last year so hydration was going to be important. As we trailed through the park it was impossible not to get excited. This is what Ihad trained 16 weeks for. All the pain, the injuries, the early mornings all seemed worth it as the anticipation grew towards the start of the race. Walked by the Blue start for elite and good club runners and was astonished to see one of them having a sly fag before the start. I mean come on. I could not believe it. Passed the wheel chair competitors who had just competed the previous week in Boston. What a speed they were getting up to. I got a bit lost trying to find the Green Start. Should have looked in the sky as there were huge balloons signifying where the start was. Duh.

The only way...

First celeb spot was just as I was about to enter the Green Zone. A bunch of blokes being papped with two girls. Boy band? No. I had to ask. "That's Arg!" this women said. "And!" was my response. "The only way.." she went on. "The only way is.....?" came my response. "You don't watch the only way is Essex do you" she replied. "What do you think!" came my response as I walked off to get into the starting area. Does that rate as "D" list.

With 40 minutes to go I was not going to be caught short. I stood in the queue as soon as I got into the starting pen. I wasn't going to get caught out by this beginners mistake. And just as well as the queue took an interminable age to reduce in size. The inevitable happened once I got to my allotted cubicle. No bog roll. Disaster. I may not have succumbed to the beginners mistake of waiting to long to stand in the queue but I was certainly guilty of an even more elementary blunder. Why didn't you take your own. Note to self! It's amazing the absorbent nature of a cardboard when that is your only option!

Where's the start?

The nerves now start to set in amongst all the competitors. This always has some strange consequences. For two women of a certain age who should know better it involved them in front of most of the green start to drop their pants, kneel behind a burger van and have a pee. There is no shame just before a race. Once you have evacuated your bladder or bowels it is now on to the second consequence which is talking a heap of shite to anyone who will listen. How many marathons did you say you had done and gosh that was fast or one I got from this guy from the Midlands who said that training must have been tough as apparently Scotland have been snowed in since February. Oh dear oh dear!. Let's get started so I don't have to listen to any more of this pish!

Pre race

And there's a faller! Someone falls in the first mile as he fails to negotiate a hump in the road despite the fact that at each hump there are marshals with big signs saying "Watch the Hump!" and rather amusingly shouting "HUMP" every thirty seconds. I pass Arg in the first mile. I swear he was already walking. The first 5 miles are easy. I keep it at a very steady 8+ mile pace. It is the best part of the race. The running is easy and you cannot possibly contemplate the pain that will inevitably come to you in 3 hours time. Pain. What pain. That won't happen to me this time. 

Before the pain came the hilarity. I am now 6 miles in and on my left handside I begin to hear alot of laughter. A one off maybe. Someone has said something. No. The laughter continues and is getting louder. Screams indeed. Then out of the corner of my eye...It's a bloody streaker. Not a stitch on other than a pair of trainers. He's old 50+ and is loving it. All I can see are his cheeks wobbling just out of sight. But the thing is he keeps running. I then realise that he has a mankinny on and this is the skimpiest of costumes with his number clearly on his nethers. The reaction of the crowd was priceless. I pressed on and got into my rhythm then I heard the laughter again but this time it was right behind me. Mankinny man was now running next to me. He was still larging it up. I ended up running with him side by side for a couple of miles then decided a picture on the front of Monday's Sun is unlikely to go down so well as work.

One of the highlights of the race was the crowd support. Having run Boston and New York I have to say that London was even more impressive. What London lacked in exuberance it made up for in volume of both noise and numbers. Everywhere seemed mobbed. As far as I can remember there were very few places that were not lined 3/4 deep. The Cutty Sark, Tower Bridge, Canary Wharf and the last 3/4 miles including the Mall just blew me away. it was hard at Canary Wharf not to increase the speed with the kind of support that was shouting you on.



The flat - I could have jacked it in there and then

Reached halfway in around 1.40 and pressed the hammer down with little effect on my pace. There just wasn't anything there. Not a good sign. I soldiered on at 7.30 pace. I managed another couple of miles at this pace then the wheels started to come off. Got to 16 miles then hit 8 minute mile pace. By 19 miles it had slipped to 8.29 pace. A recovery at 20 miles took me back to 8.04 pace then an inexorable slide towards the finish at nearer 9 minute pace rather than 8 minute pace. I remember feeling great at 15 miles and then suddenly the gu gels that I had been taking began not going down so well. I remember trying to increase the pace through Canary Wharf only for me to feel the gloop in my stomach making every effort to escape through my oesophagus. Thankfully I did not chunder. Not at that point anyway. Since completing the race I have thought about my nutrition and have come to the realisation that these gels are maybe doing me as much harm as good. The syrup and sweetness is not a good combination at 20 miles and I recall an number of rather grotesque burbs as I tried to digest yet another gel. The gels I had did not need to be drunk with water but the ones being handed out at miles 14 and 21 did. I thought that i would be smart and take onboard the course nutrition to avoid me having to take an extra couple of my own. This would have been fine if i had some water to take with the Lucozade ones. They were revolting. I distincltly remember ripping off one of the Lucozade gels and gagging on it as I turned right into canary wharf at mile 18 and thinking that I had to get some water but not getting any for another mile. Not a good place to be.







Photo changed to protect the guilty



I got chicked by The Fake Bake who is this wonder women of a runner who runs for Bellahouston in the 55-59 age group. She sped past me after 19 miles. You may wonder why I was able to spot this women out of the thousands that were running. It is nothing to do with this womens age but something rather more synonymous with this great city. Every time I have run a long race this women has towed the start line. You cannot miss her. She has long black hair - which I recall on Sunday was died purple - long hair on women of a certain age looks odd and she is no exception. She is a sight to behold. with her signature fake tan. She certainly turns heads.  Now this is no ordinary fake bake. This is your full on Weeggie Orange Job. But God love her she can run. At that age she clocked 3.14 at Loch Ness when I ran it last year and today I got chicked by her as she sped to a 3.28. I doff my cap to you Mrs Fake Bake. The names have been changed following legal advice to avoid some defamation action but I would claim veritas in my defence!

Split	time	diff	min/km	km/h
5K	00:24:16	24:16	04:52	12.36
10K	00:48:24	24:08	04:50	12.44
15K	01:12:08	23:44	04:45	12.64
20K	01:35:49	23:41	04:45	12.67
HALF	01:40:51	05:02	04:36	13.07
25K	01:59:23	18:32	04:45	12.64
30K	02:24:18	24:55	05:00	12.04
35K	02:50:56	26:38	05:20	11.26
40K	03:19:04	28:08	05:38	10.67
finish time	03:31:51	12:47	05:50	10.3

My fridge magnet

The weather was beginning to take its toll as we approached 20 miles and there were a few forlorn figures at the side of the road being attended to by the those good people of St John Ambulance. I recall one guy who had collapsed in front of me as I was going along Bird cage walk. I was of a mind to stop and help but he was already being helped by a couple of fellow runners. At this stage I knew a sub 3.30 was on the cards if a kept crawling along at under 9 minute miles. Then a strange thing happened. Initially I though it was a call from someone that I must have known. "Go Jonathan. Keep going Jonathan!" I acknowledged and trudged on. Then it happened again. Now I know very few people in London and they had said they were going to be on the Mall not at Birdcage Walk. I did not have my name on my vest. Maybe my blog has gone viral and these were fellow bloggers acknowledging my efforts. By mile 24 my head was a scrambled mess and I just could not fathom why the crowd knew my name? I looked round as the crowd shouted my name again and saw what could have been an image of me in 10 years. A Bob Cratchit moment. There was this guy who was struggling more than me doing the death shuffle with "JONATHAN" plastered on his top. Fate? Call it what you want but I felt at that stage 3.30 was less important than helping a fellow Jonathan cross the line. In retrospect I am not too sure that he was that keen to have some Scotsman bellow at him urging him to pick up his legs. I am surprised he didn't just tell me the "Fuck off and finish your own race!" As we crossed the line he did seem appreciative of my efforts or at least that is what I am telling myself.

The rhino

Fancy dress is a big thing at the London Marathon. I think that there were a number of records run for fastest fairy, school boy and super hero. There is no disgrace being beaten by someone who has a costume that is more or less a contrived effort at fancy dress which has little impact on someones running gait. What is embarrassing is being beaten by something like a rhinoceros or a man dressed up as a lucozade bottle. I though that tthis was going to happen to me. At miles 14 and 22 the race converges with those running 14 miles running on the other side of the street as those running in the opposite direction on the other side of the road. It was at my 14 mile stage that we passed the leaders of the elite race. Wow what a pace they were setting. When I got to mile 22 I heard this shout "Go the rhino. Go the Rhino" My heart sank. I knew I had little more to give and if the rhino had paced his race well there was every likelyhood that I would be rhinod. Thankfully he was on the other side of the road. Having said that it didn't stop me being passed in the closing miles by the Incredidble Hulk and the Super Marios. A super hero I can take but a 1980's computer generated plumber. There is only so much I can take!

Pre chunder

The finish was incredible. It is just a pity that I was not running down the Mall chasing a 3 hour marathon. The support as you pass Buckingham Palace and speed up down the Mall was amazing. I felt that I was floating. it was a very strange sensation having gone through so much pain in the last 6 miles. There was a stage as I hit 20 miles that I thought why am I bothering. Thankfully this did not stay for me long. I got my medal and got my picture taken.  You can have a look at the pictures on
http://results-2012.virginlondonmarathon.com/2012/index.php?content=detail&fpid=search&pid=search&id=0000030F5ECC830000041ED3&lang=EN&event=MAS&ageclass= They are not the best set of pics and given the exhorbitant price that they will be wanting I will have to be satisfied with looking at the digital images.

C'mon Branson - sort it out!

The T shirt is a disgrace! It purports to be an addidas T shirt but is just a knock off. It has no addidas label. It is cheap cotton. I was expecting a tecnical T with some nod to the Olympics. Now I cannot grumble too much as I got into the race on the back of a £30 Good for Age and did not have to fork out a hefty wedge and raise squillions for charity. Piss poor if you ask me. C'mon Branson stop shelling out anymore money to Bolt and fork out for some decent clobber after the race. Whilst I am on my soap box do not get me started on the photographs. I also noticed that the free white running jackets that were given away last year were being hocked at a tenner a pop at the Expo. Everywhere that you turn someone is after your hard earned. It just shouldn't be like that. Having said that I do like my fridge magnet which I have now peeled off to show my time.

It took him 10 miutes to get out!

Medically the leg held up surprisingly. In fact the achilles gave me more of problem than the hamstring. At the start I felt the achilles in the first mile and I thought that this is what I would be facing for the whole race. Whether it was the adrenalin or just the fact that I had not run on it for a couple of days it went away as quickly as it arrived. It is a pity that I could not say this about the pain that I was in after the race. I crossed the line and made my way over to the finishing tunnel. I then made a b line for the medical tent for a sit down. definitely felt dehydrated and I immediately chugged down a recovery drink then followed this with the Lucozade Recovery shake given to all competitors. It just sat in my stomach. it is difficult to describe how i felt. it was a cross between a hangover and the flu. I just could not be arsed doing anything. I watched a comedy moment as the man dressed as a Lucozade bottle took 10 minutes to extricate himself from his suit. I could not move a muscle to help him. Then Kevin Kahler texted me and suggested we meet up beneath the "J" sign on Horseguards Parade. Although this was only 800m away it could have been 800 miles away for all I cared. I shuffled across the parade ground as people jostled and bumped into me. Every bump sent a pain through my body and stopped me in my tracks. I felt awful. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and go to sleep. Kevin was not there so I sat down and waited for him feeling very sorry for myself. He arrived shortly after this and it was like his appearance gave me this temporary high as I prattled on about mankinnyman, the crowds and the "Jonathan " episode. It was as if he was my dealer come to give me another hit. The hit did not last long as we trudged off to the underground. I got half way across Horseguards when I must have turned green. I thought "Oh my god I'm going to chunder. At this point I should tell you three things. Firstly that Horseguards was full to the gunnels. Thousands of people milling about. Shoulder to shoulder. Secondly Kevin had brought along his new girlfriend to introduce to me. And finally I was now in the middle of Horseguards miles from any open space let alone toilet. It took all of my will power and concentration to focus on the task in hand. Find the toilet. Find the bloody toilet.! I marched off purposefully at first. This lasted 4 steps then I realised that I could not move through the crowd at any pace and let me tell you time was of the essence. Focus! Focus!It was no good. I got about 10 paces, both hands on my thighs and I proceeded to projectile vomit all over Horseguards. You have never seen people move so quickly. Kev was marvellous as he helped this poor soul into a corner. Whether that was out to find a seat or usher me away from the shame of the incident I don't really care. What an introduction to his new beau. My chunder had an unbelievable restorative effect and within a couple of moments we were striding back across the earlier scene of devastation. Somewhat disappointingly the janitor had not been out with his bucket of sawdust.

Got off the underground at Canary Wharf to find that there were still stragglers going through the 18 mile marker some 6 hours after the start of the race. That looks like a 7+ marathon for these poor souls. I have every sympathy for those hurpling along - clearly with an injury. How far my sympathy stretches for those runners who clearly have been walking for several miles is a bit more difficult to quantify. Do not get me wrong to run a marathon is some achievement. Is walking 26.2 miles one?

Got home at 10 ish after my sister once again came up trumps with a lift home. The flight home was uneventful and I have to thank all those good people at Easy Jet for not charging me an additional £40 as clearly my bags was well over the allotted size. I was last in the queue and the plane was late to take off when I got asked to put my bag in the baggage sizer. despite trying to jam it in, it just would not fit. In fact it took me 5 minutes to try and pull it out of the sizing contraption adding even more time to the already delayed flight. I won a watch there.

My reflections on the race now that I have had a week or so to think about it are that I could never have got anywhere near a 3hour marathon let alone a PB having missed as much training as I did in the last 5 weeks. I have noted that my longest run in the last 5 weeks was one 10 miler and several 7 milers. This in addition to the fact that I had done no pace work since the original hamstring pull. If you train slow you are going to run slow. I think in that last 5 weeks I averaged out at somewhere near 8-8.15 mile pace. That just is not conducive to running a PB. Has this experience put me off trying to dip under 3 next time? Hell no! I think that my strategy for this race should have been more conservative but I was pleased that I managed to execute most of my plan to get under 3.30 and if it had not been for "JONATHAN", I am pretty sure I would have done. I need to look at my nutrition. there is something about having all those gels in your stomach that is hindering me in the last third of the race. The difficulty is that you need fuel. The answer is that I may not need as much fuel or I need to fuel at the right stages. As far as the need for fuel is concerned I have begun to read about the Maffetone which theory is to run at an aerobic state to increase your aerobic base. Once your aerobic base is there then your body will burn fat rather than carbohydrate which should mean less requirement for taking on fuel during a race.

Finally I would like to thank a number of people for helping me along the way. Thank you to Nick and Paula for allowing me to stay in their London flat. Without their kind offer I would have had to slum it at a Travel Lodge and the whole experience would not have been as enjoyable as it was. Thank you also to Jen my wife for putting up with my training, waking her up at ridiculous hours of the morning to hit the streets and my mood swings as I lurched from one injury to the next. I must also thank my sister who was good enough to ferry me to and from the airport. And last of all you the reader for bothering to read my daily musings. I started my blog for my own record of a marathon training schedule and something to show my children and grandchildren that their old man could run at some point and wasn't always a doddering old fool. I have had a great deal of fun doing this but it has been a bit of a chore recently. I hope that you have enjoyed the trip. Although I did not achieve my goal, I live to fight another day and look forward to the next time when I can once again be roasted over the hot coals.

PS I am about to sign up for a Half Ironman in Fort William in September 2012. training starts on Monday!

The numbers - 26.55 miles - 3.31.51 hrs - 164 avgHR - avgcadence 82.4 - 3651 calories
Splits - 8.12 - 7.50 - 7.28 - 7.46 - 7.31 - 7.53 - 7.54 - 7.27 - 7.31 - 7.39 - 7.30 - 8.00 - 7.24 - 7.25 - 7.45 - 7.46 - 7.58 - 7.59 - 8.24 - 8.22 - 8.36 - 8.57 - 8.57 - 8.56 - 9.20 - 11.27