Tag: marathon

Why I’ve dumped the Runkeeper woman

The Runkeeper woman and I have had a falling out. That’s right; the passive aggressive mouthpiece of said running app (which I love, by the way) who pipes up at pre-determined intervals to tell you how you’re doing. She’s been bitching in my ear about my sluggish pace every 10 minutes for the past few weeks of running, commanding I…

Four weeks to go: Help! I’m slowing down!

It’s official: I’m slowing down, not speeding up. I managed only 18 miles in my three hour run on Sunday. Last time I ran that duration, I did more than 19, and that was in a gale. I know, I know… I’ve said speed isn’t the aim here, but it’s still pissed me off. I feel as fit as a fiddle,…

Five weeks to go: Is a four hour marathon a complete fantasy?

I think it might be time rein in my expectations for the big day in five weeks. I’ve been hoping to get past the finish line in four hours or less, and as my pace has gradually increased over the past few months, doing so has seemed less and less like a complete fantasy. Now I’m not so sure. A…

Seven weeks to go: Handstands and hill training

I’m not known for my grace or agility. So when my brother heard I’ve started doing gymnastics, he howled with laughter and said he’d pay good money to see me falling off a pummel horse in a leotard. If he saw what I’ve really been doing – groaning against a wall, upside down with my midriff exposed as I attempt…

Nine weeks to go: Can a marathon ever be comfortable?

Is it ever possible to comfortably run a marathon? Bear with me; it’s a serious question. See, on 17 April I’m taking on the Brighton Marathon, my first 26.2 miler in preparation for the Marathon des Sables 2018. And I’m making it my mission to enjoy every last step with a minimum of aches and pains. I’m convinced it’s possible.…

Why all runners are really stoners at heart

A lot of dope gets smoked on Brighton Seafront. In fact, I rather enjoy the fragrant clouds that drift from the occasional beachfront shelter or parked car as I run past; they mingle rather pleasantly with all the other seaside smells. And it’s not like I’m inhaling. A deep breath through the nose as I pass doesn’t count, does it?…

The first 300 miles: hypos, hope and scavenging Snickers

I’m not proud of myself. Seven miles into a recent 12 miler across the South Downs, I came across an unopened Snickers bar in the mud, picked it up, stashed it in my bumbag (not proud of that either, but being a diabetic runner makes one necessary) and went on my way. I was getting desperate. Hypoglycaemia has snapped at…