Piggy Plod 10k – 18 July 2021

Full disclaimer: I was not match fit for this race. I had trained for the distance but as I was away with family in Dorset I ate poorly, drank a lot of wine and did not go to bed early either Friday or Saturday night. I claimed afterwards self-sabotage: If I’d behaved myself Saturday and still fudged it, imagine how much worse I would feel?

Anyway, this was my first race back after having a baby in November 2020. I could write two blog posts on a) my experience of running while pregnant, and b) the gruesome realisation of the true physical impact of pregnancy on your body, but here’s a summary for now – I had to quit running at 3 months pregnant and I would later delay my comeback until 20 weeks postpartum (generally it is recommended to wait 12 weeks). Getting to see a decent physio during Covid was impossible, almost as impossible as working on my core rehab for 5 continuous minutes without the baby crying. BUT I DID IT. I slogged my way through Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred (slightly amended to protect my abs / pelvic floor) and completed Couch to 5k. This was mostly thanks to my mum who put in almost as many miles as me pushing the baby round the block so I could run laps around them both.

Whenever I book a U.K. holiday I like to check out any potential races nearby, and lucky for me (or so I thought) there was a 10k in Dorset the same weekend I was there with family. The longest I’d run in training is 4.8 miles but I was fairly confident I could make up the rest with the race adrenaline

Has Covid made you miss portaloos too?

What I’d forgotten in my 16-month absence from racing is CHECK THE COURSE MAP. The course was RANCID. 6.3 miles round open fields, rough terrain, the continuous smell of shit, hills aplenty and narrow paths through cornrows causing congestion. The 10k was part of a weekend of races and most of the participants had camped overnight. There was no toilet roll in the toilets and we were told to carry our own water receptacles due to Covid. So I skipped the first water station 1 mile in because I had a bottle full. Cool. However, it was really f***king hot and everything fell apart for me about mile two. It was just so hot and so hilly and I’d run out of water. I tripped over and face planted on the hard, dusty mud. I attempted a walk-run approach but I was awfully f***king hot. I couldn’t think about anything else. If it was a two-lap course I was certain I would quit. I’d told my mum she’d be left with baby for an hour but I hit halfway around 38 minutes and was panicking. I wanted to quit so bad but I had no idea where I was so all I could do was follow the route home.

When I reached the water station at 4.5 miles, I came to my senses a bit. I suddenly remembered that pouring water over my head was much better than drinking it and brought my body temp down. I USED TO KNOW THIS, but I seem to have forgotten so many of my own race hacks.

I had a sit down and a steward complained because I touched a jug of water with my grubby, potentially Covid hand. “Sorry I was desperate,” I muttered like the sad sack I was. I changed my music from my old 2019 marathon playlist to Idles, and soldiered on. My average pace improved but I still felt it was shite; 13 min miles rather than 15 min miles. I jogged the flat bits and walked the hills. Somehow I made it in the end and ran down the finish straight, wondering why I hadn’t been capable of that speed earlier on

Motherhood has done something weird to my hairline.

I was happy it was done and it was over. I’d had a few hiccups in training which meant I almost didn’t make it to the start line so at least I didn’t waste my 20 quid. But what a race! A horrible course made worse by the unrelenting heat. I later saw the fastest female ran 57 minutes which made me feel A LOT better (I finished in 1:28 – yuck!).

Would I have run better with no hangover and better sleep? Almost definitely. But there was also a mental weakness caused by my lack of racing. Because I’ve had so little experience of running the distance recently I couldn’t fight through my exhaustion to break down the 10k in my head. Two miles in, the finish line felt like an eternity. But back when I was running 10k all the time, I was much better at BELIEVING I could do it.

The exhaustion afterwards was unreal. I am breastfeeding and the baby still wakes a few times in the night, two things that affect my energy levels. I had to eat through my Aunty Ann’s cheese flan like I was compensating for a marathon.

I’m happy it got done but I would like another crack at 10k. Postpartum running isn’t like starting again – I was 25 when I started running! Now I’m starting afresh but with a body that was blown up like a balloon and now all the air’s been let out. But I’m still chuffed with where I am, even though being chuffed with a 1:28 10k seems completely mad!

EDIT: I’ve also forgotten how to race review properly- the affiliated cost was £22.50 and at the end I received a medal, bottle of Dorset cider, a nice buff and other food goodies. The course was HORRID but that was my fault for not checking. The water stations could have been positioned better (no one needs it at mile 1) and the steward I asked couldn’t tell me where the next water station was (??!). My main grumble was no toilet roll in the toilets and I sign saying: if you need toilet roll, buy it from the shop!!

Milton Keynes Marathon 2019

Somewhere between running a half marathon PB in December (1:56) and successfully showing up to New Year’s Day double parkrun, I decided it was about time I had a proper crack at the marathon. And I don’t mean repeat my usual marathon strategy (executed six times with varying results), which was a couple of mid-week jogs and a few weekend 20 milers, followed by a vague goal of finishing and fingers crossed for a sub-5.

I decided to make a plan and stick to it, prioritise my training, sacking off lie-ins and nights out and getting up at 6am to run in Barbados before the sun rose (this, in all honesty, was one of my greatest achievements of this training cycle, sweating out rum punch along the boardwalk as Johnny Bairstow jogged past me in the opposite direction).

I chose Milton Keynes Marathon as my target race, I have run it twice before and the start line is a 20-minute drive from my house. I even got to watch Game of Thrones before my Mum picked me up. No other UK marathon has appealed to me enough to warrant the travel and hotel expense, so even though I’ve marathoned in Berlin, Munich and Brighton since the last time I ran MK, I find myself at the start line again for marathon number 7.

The weather was perfect, cloudy and cool, unlike the starting pens which were complete chaos. I was meant to be in the yellow zone, but couldn’t get there/wasn’t sure if I was already there. There was one sign saying yellow zone but it wasn’t clear whether that zone was in front of the sign, behind or simply, in the vicinity of. There was lots of shoving as a result, people with yellow numbers pushing past other people with yellow numbers. In 2015, the starting pens stretched down the road behind the start line, but this has changed now so you ultimately make an awkward u-turn before crossing the line. But as the song I’ve been playing at my husband all week says – Ain’t nothing going to break my stride!

Miles 1-6 are great fun. Apart from a long subtle ascent around mile 2, the first 10k is a number of out-and-backs around the centre of Milton Keynes, so you can soak up the cheers of spectators and holler at the runners going in the other direction. My target pace was 8:50-9:00 miles and I spent a lot of the first 10 miles trying to slow myself down, especially when I occasionally saw a 7:xx flash up on my watch! I went through 6 miles in 53:02 according to my Garmin, 2 minutes faster than planned. The half-marathoners split off at mile 7 and this is also a busy area for spectators and I saw some club mates and my cousin, Ruth, who was embarking on her own challenge of getting lost in MK on her bike while trying to follow the marathon!

I knew my in-laws and nieces would be at Willen Lake around mile 11 so I pushed on to that point to high-five them and marvel at their lovely signs! I was conscious I was ahead of schedule, going through 10m three minutes faster than planned, so I let myself slip into 9:00-9:10 pace. I had planned a purposeful positive split (8:50-9:00 for the first half, and maximum 9:20 pace for the second half) so was still happy at this point as I passed halfway in 1:58, a minute faster than planned.

By this point, it was becoming obvious my Garmin was around 0.2 miles faster than the mile signage, and it was bothering me. The gremlins always get me between miles 15-20 and even though I was on pace according to my watch, I was questioning whether this was the case if I was 0.2 miles ahead. Mile 18 was gross, this long alleyway (?) in between rows of back gardens, no spectators, just struggling runners all hunkering along. I was playing cat-and-mouse with a Guide Runner and a visually-impaired runner for a while and we chatted a bit, I hope they went on to achieve what they wanted.

My race plan had been to get to 20 miles with about an hour to play with (for a sub-4), and even though my Garmin said I had hit 20m bang on target (3:03), the chip time said 3:05 (obviously I couldn’t see this but knew I was ahead), I had slowed to about 9:40-9:50 pace and knew I couldn’t retain sub-9:00 to get home under four hours.

It is completely mad what your brain puts you through after three-quarters of a marathon. Saw my in-laws again just after 20m and apologised because I was passing them at 3:06 and not 3:03 like I’d promised. Three minutes! I seriously doubt that made an inch of difference to their day but to me at that point, it was a BIG DEAL.

Me telling (lying to) my cousin “I’ve still got this!” at mile 16

In hindsight, it is difficult to judge after 20m whether a) I let myself slip into ‘just get this finished’ mode mentally because I’d slipped off sub-4 pace, or b) I was genuinely exhausted and was using every ounce of energy just to keep running. Although I remember feeling really very tired, my stats show a slip from 9:53 pace to 10:20-10:30 pace for miles 21, 22 and 23 which suggests a level of resignation not just down to physical tiredness.

At mile 24, I walked a bit. I was sick of Milton Keynes, the redways, the underpasses, that roadside ascent at mile 23, described by some as the most boring mile of a marathon ever. I was resistant to pushing myself at this point because of how tired I was, I had images of me pushing too hard and not finishing. I even started counting my steps like Hayley Carruthers said she did, but even that felt too fast and decided to ignore my watch and concentrate on jogging home.

The idea of ‘parkrun to go’ was giving me no comfort, but as soon as I calculated I only had 2.5 miles left I found it in myself to push on. The discrepancy between my watch and the mile markers was truly screwing with me now, as that 0.2 was starting to feel like a gaping hole and I would silently celebrate two miles to go but within a few minutes realise, oh no, there’s the sign I’ve NOW got two miles to go. Heart breaking!

The last two miles I just got the job done. I knew I was going to be able to see the Stadium through the trees soon, and I pushed on down the main road and right into the stadium car park. The last twirl round the car park is always resented, before a short ascent (wtf! why!) into the stadium. My friends always spectate in the same spot just before the finish, which is great because I don’t have to look around for them. It takes everything to keep running at this point so a sprint finish was completely out of the question. A quick smile and wave at my supporters, but mostly I just wanted to get to the timing mat so I could stop (which I did almost immediately if you watch videos of me finishing!).

I knew sub-4 was ambitious, but considering my former PB was 4:39, I am happy with 4:11. The marathon doesn’t give you what you want, it gives you what you deserve, and I can confidently dissect why I missed out on sub-4 in my training notes below. When I ran 4:39 in Munich in 2017, I was still having a great time at 23 miles and even though I started to struggle at 24/25 I was content knowing I was on the home straight. Yesterday, I felt physically bad from about 20 miles, and even though I wasn’t unhappy, I was having to fight and push for six miles, something I never did in Munich (mostly because I wasn’t bothered about time!).

I pushed myself for sub-4 pace yesterday because I didn’t want any regrets. If I’d paced myself for sub-4:15 I didn’t want to finish thinking what if, and considering I went on to finish in 4:11 I did the right thing. In the last two miles, I started thinking of the eldest Ingebritsen brother who finished third in a World Champs race earlier this year. In the interview afterwards he was on top of the world because he’d left it all out there, he had nothing left in him and that was good enough for him. I didn’t want to be in a position where I could sprint finish yesterday because I wanted to be like Ingebritsen and perform to the best of my potential, which I believe I did.

Squad goals!

Training

This year I did made two major changes to my training that I hadn’t done in previous marathons. First, I made a plan (lol I know right?). I’m useless at following training schedules so instead I basically made a plan of fortnightly targets. Every two weeks I increased my distance targets for a few minutes. So by mid-Feb I wanted to be running xx:xx for 5k/10k and end of Feb, a few minutes faster etc. This short term goal strategy worked really well especially if you struggle to motivate yourself for long term goals. Doing this helped my parkrun time dropped from 30 mins at that start of the year to 26:40 in March.

Secondly, I signed up for Crossfit classes mid-January. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news runners, but I genuinely believe my race pace has dropped by almost a minute per mile due to increased work with weights and on my core. And I only go once a week for one hour! I attend Studio 83 in Leighton Buzzard, which offers a range of classes (Spin, HIIT, Cardio focused ones) but I stick to X-Fit which involves circuit training and functional movements with weights. Every time I turn up I could be doing anything from pull ups, burpees, box jumps, pushing a sled or smashing a tyre with a sledge hammer! Sometimes I hate going and I am super self conscious because I am convinced everyone is better than me at everything (except the running, I excel at that bit!) but I adore how my body has changed and how much stronger I have become between my shoulders and my waist. I loved it so much I even got a barbell for my birthday and start doing my own sessions at home outside of classes.

Anyway, everything was going swimmingly until I got shin splints mid-March. It was around the time I started upping my long runs to 16/18/20 miles and I had to take two weeks off smack bang in the middle of my training. There I was not running and pumping barbells in the hope that would help. I managed to get out for an 18-miler, and a 20-miler a week later, but my leg was so sore after these long runs I couldn’t run speed sessions or tempo runs in between. I went to the physio a few days after my last 20 miler, and she advised that I could still run the marathon but I had to take it easy and manage the injury until then. Unfortunately, in her efforts to diagnose me, she asked me to hop on one-foot which honestly felt like my entire lower leg had shattered and the pain was much worse after that!

Two weeks before the marathon I ran my club’s Easter Monday handicap race at race pace (a good example of not taking it easy) and even though I beat my predicted time by 2 mins 41 secs and am now the proud owner of the Langmay Trophy (best thing ever! This trophy is older than me!), I went out a few days later with a friend and could barely run a mile without the horrible shin pain. So in the end, apart from a 0.6m jog to my CrossFit class, I didn’t run at all in the 10 days leading up to the Marathon. Turns out this has now paid off, because I had zero shin issues during the race and even now, while writing this, the bloody thing isn’t even twinging. The physio said I had to take a few weeks off to let it heal after the marathon but it has decided to be perfectly ok now! Great timing!

Another thing I’d like to add is that I’ve worn Adidas running shoes for years since I first got a gait analysis in 2014. They’ve always been so reliable except my most recent pair that have caused a long list of difficulties. I didn’t even link my shin splints and my shoes until it was too late to break in a new pair, so if you’re injured I’d advise thinking about your shoes first and foremost!

Time to rest up and plan what’s next.

Ashridge Boundary Run 2019

I have run this race four times now and every time it outshines all the other regular races on my calendar. Taking place in March (on a Saturday! crazy!) means I am always knee-deep in marathon training when I get to the start line. I have spent the previous 10 weeks mired in speed targets and distance goals, thinking about nutrition and gels and trainers and whether the niggle in my achilles is going to end my chances of a PB in two months time, and this race always sets me straight and reminds me how bloody glorious it is just to run alone for a long time.

The route is 16+ miles around the Ashridge National Trust Estate, anti-clockwise so that the last three miles include the Ivinghoe and Pitstone Hills and the peak that haunts my dreams at night – the Ivinghoe Beacon. It is an underrated race, with less than 400 participants and only a simple website and a Facebook event to promote it. No medal, no event village and when you finish in between two flags, in previous years a man holding a stopwatch has written your time down.

This year I’m ready for it. I feel like I know the course well enough that I won’t be surprised by anything, and I’m a lot more confident on the hills than I have been before (read: I’m going to run them and not start walking the moment I clock them).

The first 5.5 miles flew by so quickly I was hesitant to take my scheduled gel because I didn’t feel I needed it. It was a lot muddier than previous years, which meant for the first five miles I was focused on my feet and the few steps ahead of me, identifying the least slippy part of the trail and taking that direction. This is why I say the race is 16+ miles because I run a different distance every year. There was a steep hill around 2.5-3 miles in, but I was ready for it and ran it, happily picking off the few people who were walking it and setting on my merry way when I got to the top.

The first water stop was at mile 6, and I continued on down pathways between houses and across farmers fields. The first time I felt any sort of lethargy was around mile 8, as you launch downhill and then take a long, slightly ascending trail across some farmland. I reminded myself that this section of any race is always where I start to worry, knowing that I’m only halfway and have a long way to go. Also I was conscious the action of sliding through the mud and keeping balance was using extra muscles and energy I wasn’t used to. It felt like every muscle in my feet was working hard.

I promised myself a gel at mile 10 and was grateful for it when it came. My mood started to lift as I picked my way across more trail. In previous races I’ve been alone at this point but I think they have increased the numbers in recent years, and having a scattering of people in front and behind me to play cat and mouse with is motivating. I was concentrating so hard and for so long on my footing in the mud that it became meditative – if I let my mind be distracted by anything else I would take a slide and snap back again.

By 11.5, I was on top of the world (not physically, that would come later). I was having so much fun, I felt completely and utterly at peace on the trail and at one point, I thought: This is where I’m meant to be. I knew the worst was yet to come but I knew I could handle it, I had done it three times before and I was confident in my hill training this year.

I watched as the man ahead of me turned left and crumpled slightly as he saw what the next mile had in store. An undulating clay trail through a farmer’s field and then a sharp ascent along the side of the field. After 10+ miles of running on mud, grass and tarmac the clay path was agonising; I could feel every pebble pushing into the soul of my feet. I jogged the ascent as much as I could, but reverted to power-walking, ramming my elbows back and forth as if I was using an invisible rope to pull me up.

Then the Beacon. The first time I ran this race in 2014, I was looking for a training run for my first marathon, didn’t bother checking the route and hadn’t even run that distance before in my life, ever. I had confidently run the first 10 miles, only to break down mentally and physically for the next five, with nothing left in the tank to tackle the litany of hills and exhausted to the point I could feel nothing but failure and disappointment, most of which peaked (lol) while trying to climb that frigging Beacon.

Yes, the Beacon is high but it is surrounded by hills in the lead up to it, and for next 1.5 miles afterwards. Up, down, up, down, up, up, down, upside down. Having to tackle this would be tough on fresh legs; tackling it after 11 miles of tough terrain and two hours of mental focus is my favourite part of this race. I dread the Beacon in the weeks running up to the race (I even pass it on the train home from work, haunting me), and I suffer during it, but the challenge of conquering it is the reason I go back again and again.

This year I’m in unusually high spirits as I start one of the manageable ascents towards it, and of course there is a new factor in town this year – the wind. The noise of it is deafening as I ascend and my ear drums, no longer protected now I’m using Aftershokz, are aching with the pounding they are taking from the wind. It is an incredible, incomparable experience, running into breathtaking winds along the top of the world, looking out at Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire for miles and knowing any respite or significant descent is at least two miles away. I am dying to take photographs (and insta stories, obvs) but I know I am cutting it very fine to my sub-3 hour target.

I summit the beacon to see three marshals and three dismounted cyclists. We are all suspended in time, the wind seems to be coming from every direction and no one can move. I am meant to be taking a sharp left but I can’t. One of the cyclists gives in and lays her bike down on the ground, almost falling on top of it. Undoubtedly, one of the most insane moments of my life.

There is one more long, steep ascent; a rocky trail cut into a hillside. I am surrounded by people walking and can’t find it in me to summon anything more than my lame power walk with my arms pumping wildly. The trail turns muddy again, the worst mud I have encountered yet, so slippy I can’t even pick up my pace into a run or I would slip. I’m annoyed here because I have got enough left to start running again now I’m not ascending but the ground isn’t allowing me any sort of grip.

I get through the mud and start weaving through people up a subtle incline. Less than two miles to go, I can now happily run these inclines with no fear of burning out. I finally reach the path home, one of the main walking routes of the national estate. It is always a joy to run this bit as it is always busy with walkers, cheering on strangers. I run a sub 9:30 mile to the end, and finish in 2:58. A 16-minute PB compared to my fastest time in 2014, and a massive 40 minutes faster than my time in 2017.

I took time this year to look at the elevation map of the course and compare it to my last race (Berhamsted Half) which was also very hilly. This helped my confidence in tackling the hills because the elevation was very similar and thus I knew I could do it. In my last few races I have also focused on mostly ignoring those around me. I used to try and pick people off but now I just focus on my watch and how I’m feeling. I’m also running 3-4 times a week with one night of CrossFit and weights at home when I can be bothered (which quite frankly isn’t often). Also I’ve had about three nights out in the last three months, which is significantly less than in previous marathon cycles. A colleague asked me recently how I expected to get a marathon PB now I’m older, and I probably should have told him that my nightlife has seriously died down post-30 and that has given me time to train more!

No more races until Milton Keynes Marathon now (May 6th). I was tempted to incorporate one more 10k race into my long run, but the pressure I put on myself prior to races would likely be too much. I have raced four times this year and I find pre-race prep takes a lot more time and mental energy than preparation for a normal training run. So now it’s just head down, good quality mid-week training and only four (!!) more long runs before my beloved taper time.

 

 

Munich Marathon – 8 October 2017

They say you should never do anything different on race day, something I thought of while sat on my hotel bidet eating bread rolls, jam and bananas (something I’ve never done before by the way). I also thought of this when I accidentally drank a cup of supermarket-brand cola at mile 23. Nonetheless, I still came away with an unexpected 10 minute marathon PB, so what do “they” know? 
I won’t wang on about my broken fingers, you’ll have to read my preview post for the context on why I only started training for this seven weeks ago and definitely didn’t deserve a PB.

Expo

We arrived in Munich the Friday before the marathon. The expo was at the OlympiaHalle, a smaller arena next to the Olympic Stadium where the marathon would finish. The usual garb was there – stands for other marathons, overpriced Frozen buffs (almost, I almost went there) and people trying to massage me. The stands were in a loop and there was a one way system so you had to see all the stalls before getting to number pick up. Only runners were allowed into the number pick up area, which meant I had to go round the whole thing again to find James and get my starter bag and tshirt (which I’d had to pay extra for, about 20 euro I think). Starter bag was mostly leaflets for other marathons and some children’s (?) biscuits. I’m not really an expo fan.

Trachtenlauf (Traditional Costume Run)

We signed up for the Trachtenlauf (traditional costume run) on Saturday morning after having so much fun at the Berlin breakfast run in 2015. It cost 9 Euro each, and was a 4km fun run around the Olympic Park with a breakfast at the end: veal sausages, pretzels and alcohol-free beer. It was good fun (I wore my Union Jack dress leftover from a fancy dress party, others went all out in lederhosens, matador outfits, etc.) but I still preferred the (free) breakfast run in Berlin. It was good to get a run in though, reminding myself I can actually run, 24 hours before the big one.

Marathon Day

With a PB of 4:49, I decided to aim for a 4:39 finish (10:40min/mile pace) which would give me some time to still get a PB if I slowed down towards the end. I was told to start in pen D, yet upon arrival the pens only went up to C. This meant everyone due to start in the D & E pens started all together alongside the C Pen. 

Congestion ensued, as the first few miles were round the twists and turns of the Olympic park, and I found myself driven down to walking pace when turning the corners. The 4:30 pacers had been in my sights since the start and I found myself comfortably running 10 minute miles so thought I may as well keep going at that pace.

(Don’t do this at 6 miles of a marathon – the energy zap is not worth it!)

The first 10 miles take you round the Englischer Garten, a huge, picturesque park in Munich which was good spectator-wise because James could just cut across the park to see me at different points.

Miles 10-18 looped through residential Munich, which unexpectedly had a good level of spectators out cheering. I’d gone through halfway 2:15 and still felt good so just decided to keep up the pace until the inevitable happened.

Except it didn’t. At mile 16, I calculated I could run 11 minute miles and still achieve a PB, and this spurred me on even further and even sped me up a bit. Mile 17/18 takes you back into the centre of Munich, through the touristy parts of Marienplatz and Sendlinger Tor, and this is where the real fun started. Sickeningly, by this point I was smiling and waving at the crowd like a celebrity, yelling DANKE! every time someone read my bib and yelled “Lauf Katty!” The marathon is advertised as a great sightseeing tour, yet I completely missed the Feldherrnhalle at mile 18 (where Hitler’s Beer Hall Putsch came to an end) because I was busy milking the crowd and dancing round a pigeon. 

I went through 20 miles in 3:24, basking in the glory of my PB already, albeit with a little less energy for smiles and high fives. Bizarrely at mile 23, the first place half marathoner shot past me, followed by a ream of super speedy runners, weaving round the 4+ hour marathoners like sad fat obstacles. This was both good and bad – good because having fast people near me was spurring me on (normally I’m surrounded by walking zombies who have given up at this point). Bad because the crowds were now going nuts for the fast people and no one was cheering me anymore (lol). 

I lost the plot a bit in the last few miles, as usual. My tracker was a mile ahead (I love weaving in Germany, same thing happened to me in Berlin) and I knew I was going to hit 26 miles long before the finish. I could see the Olympiaturm (the tower next to the Stadium) but had no concept of time or space by this point (you’ve been there admit it). Luckily the 41km sign came quickly and the Olympic park was full of spectators. I got shoulder barged by a half marathon runner but did I care? Nah.

Munich’s Olympiastadion is a lot bigger than Stadium MK I can tell you. The tunnel in was full of music and disco lights, and then you do a lap of the track before reaching the finish line. I spent the whole time pulling my best poses and thinking about how weird it felt running on a sopping wet track. I was disappointed the minute I crossed the finish line, what a bummer it was over. 

My time? 4:39:50. I’m a pacing genius.

Finish area took up the stadium pitch. There were stalls with cups of water, energy drink, milkshake, alcohol free beer, bread rolls, bananas and cake but you couldn’t leave the area with the cups and it was a take what you can carry situation with the food. I had some energy drink and took a banana but would’ve preferred a goody bag so I could carry all the goodies away with me. I then had to climb all the stadium stairs to get out, which was greeeat after 26.2 miles. Got out, met James, too excited to stretch, cba to ice bath, went to an Irish bar and sat on a bar stool for a few hours WHICH NO ONE SHOULD DO EVER AFTER A MARATHON unless you want your knees to fall off like mine did. 

Anyway, all in all a great time was had. It’s unfair for me to compare it to Berlin because that’s such a prolific one, but it was also surprisingly well spectated considering its a fairly small marathon. The course was flat, the medal is heart shaped and there were loads of goodies on the course and at the finish. However the Germans think it’s ok to peel bananas and then feed you chunks from their hands as you run past. Also I saw a man do a Paula Radcliffe in the Englischer Garten, facing away from the race though so we got the business end, I guess you don’t want to make eye contact do you

Next races are Leighton Buzzard Dirt Half and MK Winter Half. See you there maybe! 

Disneyland Paris Half – 24 September 2017

Races are always difficult to squeeze into the end of marathon training, but when my friend suggested Disney Half the exact weekend I was planning to run 13 miles, I couldn’t really say no could I? 
Four of us set off for Disneyland Paris the Friday before the race. We spent two nights in one of the onsite hotels (Wild West Cheyenne) at a cost of £180 per person, which included access to the park for two days, breakfast both mornings as well as a “second breakfast” after the race. I found this pretty reasonable – but there were four adults in a family room which may not be for everyone! The race cost £60 and the Eurostar + train from Lille to Disneyland was about £112 from memory.

Overall you’re looking at around £350 for a 3-day trip, but I found it totally worth it. The race price includes a tshirt (although beware they come up super small – me and my size 10/12 friends all ended up with L/XL!), a box of snacks and bananas at the end, water, Powerade and cereal bars on the course. However the race itself, the course and the atmosphere were worth every penny. 

The race starts at 7am so the majority of people are done by the time the park opens at 10am. In France in September it is dark at 7am, which was strange. We were in the last corral which meant we didn’t cross the start line until around 7.45. I personally wasn’t cold, but I also had a 3lb blonde wig on, so I wasn’t reflecting the attire of the average person there. In fact I was quite self conscious when I arrived at the start line because there was nowhere near as much fancy dress as I expected! My friend was dressed as Belle, but I didn’t see many people in wigs, and many people had chosen very aerodynamic costumes. 

However, all of my nervousness dissipated once I was out on the course. It turns out, the french really love Queen Elsa “La Reine du Neige!”. The first 3-4 miles take you through the main park, which was naturally one of the highlights. The route was lined with Disneyland staff, in their novelty uniforms (think Ratatouille chefs and Haunted House doormen cheering you on). Assumedly to create some atmosphere the rides were all going round, whic is actually a bit terrifying when there’s no one on them. When you get to the square in front of the iconic castle, it’s a complete, yet enjoyable, clusterf**k. People have stopped to take selfies, others were queuing to get their photo taken with Mickey Mouse and I accidentally went the wrong way and ended up almost hurdling a photographer. There’s plenty of space here so it worked out okay but you need to look where you’re going!

Around mile 6/7, the course heads out of the park and you start a long, uninspiring out and back, round some houses, through a park and then back towards the fun. This takes you up to about mile 10. Obviously it’s necessary but after the genuine hysteria that was the first few miles, our little group started to wane here. There were a few bands and entertainment on route but mostly we had to entertain ourselves. Lucky for us, a french man dressed as Russell from Up was running with speakers in his bag, rolling out some absolute bangers from Mulan, the Lion King and of course – Frozen. Singing “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” with strangers, while dressed up like Elsa just isn’t something I imagined would happen to me. It was quite surreal when Let it Go came on, as it began to look like I’d rented “Russell” to play Frozen songs as I jogged along in my blonde wig. Singing, running and howling with laughter really takes it out of you.​​

​At mile 10, the scenery became Disney again, as we ran through the hotels, round the lake and back through Walt Disney Studios. We’d all agreed to run our own races but up until that point, my group of four was still together. One of my friends who was running her debut half got that familiar surge we’ve all had when you realise there’s only a park run to go and she pulled ahead. My friend Gilv went after her, and the last three miles were mostly just Emily and I trying to catch them up, albeit in our princess dresses. I continuously tried to tell myself “you’re in fancy dress katie, you can’t run as fast as them” but the runner in me was having none of it. I imagine the sight of us was hilarious. I originally wanted to spend the last few miles soaking in the atmosphere and high fiving kids, but instead Belle and Elsa were tearing round the corners full pelt (check the splits), desperately sharing a gel and angrily trying to keep up with our friends. In the end, the four of us finished within 1 minute and 20 seconds of each other but at the time it felt like forever. We tried to jump at the finish line and failed miserably and the man on the PA mocked us in french. My final time was 2:17, a minute faster than the half I ran in Northampton three weeks ago (in normal clothes). Not bad for a fun run in a wig.

This race will go down as one of my favourites, even though I came in 19 (!!) minutes off my PB. The course is fairly flat and not too crowded so you could probably do a great time if you wanted, but why would you when there’s so much to look (and laugh) at? I recommend it if you want a fun running trip with friends or kids, but it’s an expensive option if you’re just PB seeking. The expo, if you’re wondering, is ultimately number pick up, bag drop, Disney running shop and a few back drops for photo opportunities – nothing to write home about! 

I’m gonna allow myself to be starry eyed for a little bit longer before knuckling down for my marathon in two weeks. Early nights, plenty of water and healthy meals… and maybe a few Disney films 😃

Munich Marathon: 3 weeks to go

Clockwise from top left: After my fall, in the cast, metal removed (15 Aug), today 

I know it’s a bit early to be writing a marathon preview (anything could happen in the next three weeks) but as my sixth marathon could potentially be my most impressive, my bravest (or most foolish) and so far, my favourite, I wanted to write about how I got here.

On 8 July, exactly three months before Munich Marathon, I fell over when walking my dog and broke three of my fingers on my left hand. I had six pieces of metal put in my fingers so there was no way I could run, drive, use a knife and fork, tie my hair back or tie my shoelaces.

Me outside the hospital at 5am, after spending 6 hours in A&E on a Saturday night 

I’d already booked and paid for Munich Marathon so somewhere in the haze of a codeine hour, I decided I was still going to run as many marathons this year as fingers I’d broken.

I was really looking forward to the challenge because this training cycle would be completely different to my previous marathons. My cast was taken off on 15 August, giving me just 7.5 weeks to train for Munich after five weeks relatively sedentary (back to this later). Yesterday – 1 month and 1 day after I started training – I ran 20 miles and loved it. This is how I got to this point:

All the psychology books

Being signed off work for 6 weeks gave me plenty of time for reading all the books I’ve been meaning to read. I heard about The Chimp Paradox on Marathon Talk last year and I was hooked from the first chapter onwards. I won’t go into a huge amount of detail here, but in short, it taught me to compartmentalise my feelings, ultimately write them off and make decisions based on logic not emotion. For example – I get home from work and don’t feel like running, but I want to so I go. Away from running, I used to think I was a chronic worrier because that was my nature but it was actually just me not controlling my emotions properly. 

I’m now reading Alistair Campbell’s Winners, which is really interesting and I’ve found it equally as helpful to prepare myself mentally for my marathon.

Strengthwork

While my arm was in a cast, I tried to do as much as I could to keep my fitness up. I took the dog on 3-4 mile walks a few times a week. I did Jillian Michaels YouTube videos (only with my right arm, obviously) and still do them now about 4/5 times per week. I watched loads of Netflix Crossfit documentaries too as motivation. 

Healthy eating

I’ve been vegetarian for around three years but always aspired to quit animal products entirely. The dairy industry is crueler than the meat industry in my opinion, but that’s not for here! I’ve been mostly vegan for a few weeks now. My kitchen is vegan but if someone else is cooking for me I allow myself to eat vegetarian because it can be really difficult and I hate inconveniencing people! I’ve found the key is preparation – packed lunches for example – and not caring what other people think. Those two things have caught me in the past when I’ve tried veganism. Anyway, trying veganism has naturally led to me eating a lot healthier and I think this has really benefitted my training.

These are the most significant things I’ve focused on to try and make up for my short training window. Ive done some other things that helped; doing running or strenghwork before work so I don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, for example, or incorporating parkrun into my long runs to break it up. I’ve enjoyed the challenge because I’ve had to listen to my body more than ever before, fully aware that fast-track training runs a huge risk of injury (my long runs were going up by 4 miles per week for example). This has been my favourite marathon training cycle because I’ve planned meticulously to pull it off, I’m in a great place mentally and fingers crossed – I feel like I have. I still don’t have full function of my hand but that will return with physio. I ran my last long run yesterday and felt a bit disappointed that the really challenging part of marathon training was over. 

First run back; look how skinny my arm was from underuse!

I wanted to share my story because it feels like a good example of anything being possible, as long as you prepare mentally, commit, listen to your body, take some risks and plan, plan, plan. I didn’t put a huge amount of effort in at school but crammed for my GCSEs and came away with all As and Bs – why am I surprised a similar style marathon plan works for me!?

Anyway, sensible taper time and I’ll blog again after the Mara!

Brighton Marathon 2017

Four marathons in four years. I didn’t even consider this an achievement until I held the Brighton Marathon medal in my hand yesterday. 

I’d hoped for a sub-5 but had no strategy, or desire to pace myself properly. I knew I couldn’t run 26 miles because I’d failed to run 20 miles in training. The golden 20 is like a password for me, without it my mind just wouldn’t accept I was capable of running a marathon and therefore, when I ground to a halt at mile 20 it was entirely cerebral, no elusive wall, no painful injury, just me deciding that was that.

Everything up until that point was an absolute joy. I could write paragraphs about all the things I felt and saw during that first three and a half hours. Inspirational charity runners, pissed up spectators, 100+ kids wanting a high five, medics armed with vaseline, emotional family members at the sidelines. The spectacle alone of the sun beating down on thousands of runners along the waterfront was good enough for me. 

My training had been poor, so I was determined just to go out and have a good time. The week before the race, I read Lisa Jackson’s Your Pace or Mine? Which ultimately changed my whole outlook on marathon running and our endless conquest for a PB. Lisa has run over 100 marathons, many of which were over 5/6 hours and a good chunk of them she came last in. Does she give a f**k? Of course not.

A few miles into the race I realised I had no idea what pace I was meant to be running, and was hitting anything from 9:57 miles to 10:40 pace. I caught up with the 5:00 pacer, considered it, but it was too busy around her so I let myself clop on ahead. Once I caught up with the 4:45 I knew I was going way too fast, but like I said – I knew I’d have to walk the end so I may as well make up the miles now.

The heat didn’t hugely bother me, and the water stations were so frequent (around every 1-2 miles) that I knew a cup over the head was never far off. I saw my cousin Ruth briefly at mile 14 – by this point I was ahead of the 4:45 pacer and could only imagine how she disapproved of that! 

I played cat and mouse with him for a bit around the next few miles but started to slow to around 11:00 minute miles and lost the pacer completely. I knew I had plenty of time because I started so far behind him, so that was cool.

Things sort of ebbed and flowed here, and I wobbled at 19 after hitting a water station that had run out of cups. I’d heard about the power station stretch but thought it was much earlier than it was, and ultimately started walking at 20. Like I said, I just had a mental block. I’d told myself if I kept running up until 20 and managed it in around 3:30 (3:32 in the end) then I’d have plenty of time for a stab at sub-5 so I could walk for a bit. So I did. 

I wasn’t particularly exhausted, I was just uninspired by that part of the route and had no desire to push myself any harder. I challenged myself every now and again to run to certain points, and walked through some more sparse water stations. My running playlist actually finished, which has never happened to me before. 

By the time I got round to the waterfront, 23ish miles, my legs were in a lot of pain – presumably seized up from the walking – and running was near unbearable. As the crowds thickened towards the finished, I felt a bit silly walking in front of them, but I’d completely made peace with the fact I was walking. It was Brighton and the sea was beautiful and the sun was shining on me! 

The 5:00 pacer over took me, so did a badger, and then another Leighton runner came up behind me and asked if I was ok. I let him run on, and once the finish line was in sight I thought I better attempt to stagger across it too. 

Then out of nowhere, the enormity of four marathons in four years struck me as I crossed that finish line. I know plenty of people faster than me but could they say they’d done that? I was so proud of me. Proud of coming back from injury, proud of being able to run it for fun and not obsess about time, proud of running non stop for 20 miles and loving every second. I love 26.2 because it’s the slog that I love – tunnelling into my psyche and finding bits of myself I don’t see on a normal day. Marathons bring out the best in me, but my favourite part is the realisation that those bits of me have been here all along! 

In 2014, I ran my first marathon in 5:45 and I was completely devastated; my training had been perfect but everything fell apart on the day.

Yesterday, I ran 5:11, which just sounds incredible to me (my PB is 4:50, for context). Incredible because I know where I’ve come from – back from injury, back from not wanting to run (in the whole of November I ran nine miles). I know people are going to turn their nose up at my time, and I still do wince when people ask how long it took, but I also know that only one person can take credit for getting me to the start line – and that person was me! 

MK20 – 5 March 2017

I ran 20 miles today! And this photo pretty much sums up how I felt at the start. 

Rewind 48 hours and I was crying in my running kit on a Friday night because I’d gone for a warm up mile and a knee niggle was stopping me from doing that properly. “My marathon is over,” I said. “I won’t be able to run 20 miles on Sunday!”

I spent Saturday in a horizontal state deep heating AND deep freezing in the hope something would cure my niggle. Walked the dog Sunday morning and everytime I put pressure on my right leg, it twinged. Bad times.

Regardless, I made my mum drive me to the start line. It was raining a lot and it took me ages to find my running club people because all the team kits were covered by rain macs (or bin bags, in Kate’s case). 

I have a really soppy story about how, two years ago, I ran MK20 by myself, only to end up running the majority of it with a girl from Leighton. That girl was Kate from Leighton Buzzard Athletics Club, who persuaded me (for three hours) to join her club, and the rest is history. Today, we ran together, in our matching LBAC kit. 

We had a good one, sort of. Just before the two mile mark, we came across an underpass that was completely flooded (see above). Before I knew it, Kate had persuaded me to go up and over, rather than through (Finding Nemo flashbacks). Which should’ve been fine other than the two dual carriageways we had to cross. 

I was told later that the half runners (who started 55 mins after us) were warned not to go up and over. I imagine the race director got a very big headache from the police this evening. 

I love running in Milton Keynes because of it’s twists and turns – a marmite route for many people. A few miles out of the centre, three laps around Willen Lake and through the cute village of Woolstone (imagine people waving out of the windows of their thatched Victorian houses) and some windy, windy redways adjacent to soulless dual carriageways (not the best bit).

I ran with Kate for 15 miles. We did exactly what we did this time two years ago – demanded deep and meaningful stories from each other trying to distract ourselves from how many miles we had left.

Kate is much faster and fitter than me so I wasn’t surprised when I lost hold of her at 15 miles. I gave myself a bit of a talking to, put my headphones in, and let Iggy Azalea/Slaves pick me up.

I got to 16.5 before I felt the need to walk. The village of Woolstone is less cute when you’ve seen it twice before. This is my fourth time marathon training but the first time I’ve struggled with a tight chest on a couple of long runs. If my legs were hurting I’d power through, but chest trouble scares me. So I walked.

But then I ran for a bit. And then I walked. Same again. And then I went for home. I text my mum to say “I’m 1.5 away, walking a bit” (in case she assumed I was still doing 10 minute miles).

Text JR saying “At mile 19. Having a nice walk.” Lol (once you start texting the race is probably over…). Turned the corner towards the end and wasn’t surprised to see that Campbell Park Hill. A man next to me swore, and we talked for a bit (once you start analysing the race with other runners 1.5 before the finish line, it’s probably over). We were both training for Brighton so reassured each other we still got this…

And then the dark clouds rolled and the hail started. Bad chest, good chest, I need to run this. 500m to go and I couldn’t see! Ice pellets in my eyes! I was genuinely concerned my contact lenses were going to come out. People were calling my name, shouting at me, probably people I knew but I couldn’t see! I had literally never run in hail before! It hurt! 

But then, that beautiful long stretch I’d seen three times before, my mum shouting at me, and the chip timer board FINALLY. Twenty miles. I’m a hero. 

***

Flitwick 10k

I signed up for a 10k the day after my birthday night out. This is what happened in my brain:
Omg.

WATER. I need water.

Maybe I’m dead and this is purgatory and if I finish I get to go to heaven.

I wonder if SIA is playing Glastonbury?

I’m definitely going to hell.

I tried to go home at 11 last night. I had my coat on and everything but they made me stay. 

Who bought me a shot? 

The hill is going to kill me.

Fool on the hill.

There’s a lot of worms. I’ve seen five already.

Lots of dead worms. Runners do not care for worms.

“Water ahead” that party emoji is going off in my head right now

*white noise*

*white noise*

*white noise*

Why did I text someone at 1.30am saying “what a time to be alive”?

This is horrible.

My eyes are streaming. I’m unintentionally crying.

People are just shouting Leighton Buzzard at me.

What a time to be alive.

Is that pizza on my face?

Maybe I should just go home and kill myself

Wow that was dark. Am I actually going to write that on the blog? I’ll just put a lol after it so people know I’m just being overdramatic

(Lol)

Take me to my bed.

I hate everyone around me.

Shall I just walk the finish? That would be funny wouldn’t it. 

Omg it’s over. Thank god.

Ooh a tshirt

Oh.

Only large tshirts left?

Rage.

Hardly anyone here is going to be a large are they. We’re runners not wrestlers.

I’m leaving with no medal, no tshirt and a banana. Woo.

I’m too hungover to stretch. 

Still angry about the tshirt situation. 

Pizza.

My injured month of doom

24 Jan: 10 mile run 
25 Jan: Ill-advised hill rep session

26 Jan: Gentle run ends early because calf is throbbing, pain worse after my run which has never happened to me before. Suspect I shouldn’t have done back to back LSR and hills. Take a week off.
3 Feb: Manage to get a PB in my club’s handicap race The Stag but calf still niggly

6 Feb: Run a 10k in London, bearable pain but no strength in my dead legs, decide to take another week off

14 Feb: Run 6 miles pain free, dull ache, feel like a beast, so happy…

15 Feb: Return home after 1.5 miles because calf pain back 

26 Feb: Run half a mile and there’s been no change after 11 days rest. Give up.

2 March: Do the Stag again, but this time it’s awful because I’ve lost a lot of fitness & finish 4 minutes slower than a month ago. Gutted because I was on a good streak!

5 March: Decide to give up resting because it’s not helping. Run a terrible time at Parkrun but happy to be back in my running shoes. 

All of my training since Christmas has now gone to shit but without a marathon to worry about, I intend on building it back up (sensibly!) and hopefully my injury will disappear on its own. Before “the month of doom”, I’d started to run sub-8 minute miles, which I never imagined would happen…

So to conclude – Rest is just as important as training! It’s hard to accept that you can overtrain when you’re a slowbod like me, but it’s all relative. I am still sulking because I was on TOP FORM a month ago but I’m going to work extra hard to get back there!*

*Unless my calf gets worse again. And then I’ll become a swimmer.