Previously: The rather inauspicious start to my running career...
Well, hello there...
Last July, as is customary, I made two New Year's Resolutions.
1. Learn Swedish
2. Run London Marathon
Nothing like setting small, easily achievable targets, eh? At that point, I knew around 20 words of Swedish (of which at least 10 weren't useable in front of Karin's grandmother), and although I'd previously run a few 10k races and made a rather large fuss about managing to finish them without stopping to walk, my fitness levels had pretty much dropped back to zero - thanks to a mild injury forcing me to defer my marathon entry from last year, and giving me the perfect excuse to sit on the sofa and eat Pringles for 18 months.
I'll let mina svenska kompisar och familj be the judge of how well I'm doing at number 1, but at the end of all my training, I did indeed complete the London Marathon, and if you'd like to hear how I got there and what it was like, well you've jolly well come to the right place, för helvete!
If you're never likely to do any long distance running, and couldn't give two hoots about what it takes to get fit enough, then please feel free to skip right to the bit I haven't written yet about what it was like on the day, I'll come back and add a link when it's done. However, if you're interested in how such athletic prowess comes to be, and how one might achieve such a fine physique as can be seen in the photo above, read on...
Disclaimer: This reeeeeally is not intended to be a suggested training plan or an endorsement of anything I did or didn't do. It's meant to be the kind of thing I would have loved to read in my darkest moments of training (especially during the taper phase) - an example of what can and will go wrong, and, let's be honest, how little you can get away with doing and still not make an utter twonk of yourself on the day.
Getting Started
Since there's only a 1 in 8 chance of getting a place through the public ballot, and since the organisers' "HA! This pillock can't run a marathon!" filters had apparently broken, I decided that I really ought to use the place I'd been given and get cracking. Having deferred from the previous year, I already knew I would definitely be running, so I was able to get started way ahead of the date when that precious magazine pops onto the doormat, and your whole world starts spinning at the realisation of what you've actually volunteered to do.
I bring this up to point out that I am not convinced I would have made it if I had started from absolutely nothing in October, when runners traditionally receive the "You're In! (You absolute Lunatic)" letter - so piece of advice numero one, whether you have applied for the ballot or signed up for a charity place, is to get started ASAP. You're never going to say "I wish I hadn't done those 3 months of running" if you don't get in - there are plenty of other races in the world, and besides, the more you run, the more KFC you can eat, it's a scientific fact.
At one point, starting in the previous July seemed slightly crazy, like I might peak too early and be able to run 26.2 miles by Christmas, and then not know what to do with myself - of course thinking about this now I am literally (and by literally, I mean not literally) laughing my head off. Had I followed all the plans I made for myself back in July, yes there is a good chance I might have been able to run 26.2 way ahead of the big day (and wouldn't that have been fantastic, then I might have been able to actually give a thought to improving my time) - but we all know from doing GCSE revision that even the most impressively laminated training plans fall by the wayside once ugly old real life sticks its nose in.
As a case in point, I started the Couch to 5k programme (the generally recognised "Running 101" plan) at the end of May, and had duly completed it 9 weeks later, ending up with a personal best 5k of 27:44 minutes at the end of August. Surely world-beating marathon prowess was only a couple of months away? Well, sure enough, I moved right onto a 10k programme but soon found that work, work travel, colds, coughs and muscular niggles all conspired to slow me right down, with me eventually running my first continuous 10k in two years, on the 30th of December- some 18 weeks later.
Phase 1 complete - but there were only 14 weeks left to more than quadruple my distance...
Gear
How not to choose running shoes - Part 1: I fancy going for a run. These old Converse boots will do, after all they were good enough for Rocky... Result - chronic Shin splints.
How not to choose running shoes - Part 2: Hello Sports Direct, what have you got, oh yes, those new Nike Airs look really awesome, I love that silver flash down the side - I'll take those please, no, no need to try them on... Result - Gradual calf pain.
How not to choose running shoes - Part 3: Oh hi, sports shop on my lunchbreak - I'd like some proper new running shoes that won't injure me please. What's that, you've got the exact same ones I previously had fitted, but in the new model? Oh, sure, perfect. Not in my size? Try a half size down? You're sure these really fit me? You don't think I should do a gait analysis again? Are you just trying to get rid of me? No, you think there's enough room there? Ok... you're the experts... Result - Incredibly uncomfortable toe positioning and a feeling of having been totally ripped off.
How to choose running shoes - Part 1: Hi there, specialist running shop, after work, on my way home. I'd like some proper running shoes, please, yes, sure, I will step onto the treadmill for gait analysis, wait, you want me to take my socks off, oh, I've got really horrible toenails - oh yes, right, you work in a running shop, no worries. Yes, I CAN see my feet landing awkwardly and how it looks like my ankles are going to snap with every step - and you're right, when I put on these fancy new shoes I do see how much better it looks. How much are they? AAAAHHHHHHHthat's lovely and fine because I want to run the London Marathon without injuring myself... Result - well, let's find out.
People often say that running's an excellent free way to get fit - I often say that's a load of old tosh and that I only just raised more money for charity than I spent on gear for training.
Somewhere in the middle lies the reality, but it's definitely the case that the further you start running, the more you realise that normal 'sports clothes' just aren't going to cut it. That old band T-shirt, the white gym socks, your normal boxer shorts, and a pair of jogging bottoms are totally fine to get started, but as soon as you start getting the least bit sweaty, you start to realise that you don't want natural cotton fibres anywhere near your bare skin.
So, aside from the two (yes, two) pairs of shoes, I found the following to be completely essential:
- Several pairs of running socks, made from special non-blister synthetic fibre.
- Several pairs of Nike Pro Combat underwear (I once wrote an entire blog on why these are necessary...)
- Several 'Technical' running shirts, and a breathable longsleeved top- again made from nothing that's ever grown in the ground - perhaps best you don't run near any naked flames.
- A proper, breathable, waterproof running jacket, as it gets damn sweaty inside a regular anorak when you run 10 miles in it
- Some lovely lycra man-tights and a pair of thin gloves for cold days. If you wear the man tights under a pair of big baggy shorts, you can not only avoid any embarrassing outlines, but you can also look a bit like MC Hammer.
- Bodyglide. Look it up. Trust me, you need this.
- Some normal fabric sticking plasters. There's a picture of my nipples which I could upload at this point to demonstrate why this is necessary, but I think you'd probably rather just trust me on this. There are a number of things you can do to avoid looking like the photo that can't be named, but suffice to say that the only one I've found that works well enough for long enough is two normal plasters. You're on your own trying to take them off, though... I take no responsibility for that.
Some non-essential things that I still wouldn't train without:
- My iPhone and the Endomondo app, which not only tells me how far I've run and how long it's taken me to do it, but also stores up stats so I can have a full on geek-out when I get home at which were my fastest miles and just how far off track I went when I got lost.
- A selection of HOOOOOOOOOOOOGE TOOOOOOOOOOOOOONS and some earphones which you don't have to continuously push back into your ears every few steps - that's not going to end well.
- My Heart Rate Monitor watch. There's been more than a couple of occasions when I've terrified myself by suddenly noticing that my pulse was racing towards 190, and thought it might be an idea to slow down.
- My Oyster Card wallet, enabling me to get home in case I break my ankle in Cockfosters, and also containing enough space for a bank card and an emergency tenner. It's definitely preferable to keeping the tenner in your shorts pocket and then finding yourself handing over a soggy rag to the poor woman in Gregg's to pay for your milkshake.
Next time: Starting on the Marathon Training Plan
Well, hello there...
Last July, as is customary, I made two New Year's Resolutions.
1. Learn Swedish
2. Run London Marathon
Nothing like setting small, easily achievable targets, eh? At that point, I knew around 20 words of Swedish (of which at least 10 weren't useable in front of Karin's grandmother), and although I'd previously run a few 10k races and made a rather large fuss about managing to finish them without stopping to walk, my fitness levels had pretty much dropped back to zero - thanks to a mild injury forcing me to defer my marathon entry from last year, and giving me the perfect excuse to sit on the sofa and eat Pringles for 18 months.
I'll let mina svenska kompisar och familj be the judge of how well I'm doing at number 1, but at the end of all my training, I did indeed complete the London Marathon, and if you'd like to hear how I got there and what it was like, well you've jolly well come to the right place, för helvete!
 |
| If you'd also like advice on how to do the campest possible victory pose, stay tuned. |
If you're never likely to do any long distance running, and couldn't give two hoots about what it takes to get fit enough, then please feel free to skip right to the bit I haven't written yet about what it was like on the day, I'll come back and add a link when it's done. However, if you're interested in how such athletic prowess comes to be, and how one might achieve such a fine physique as can be seen in the photo above, read on...
Disclaimer: This reeeeeally is not intended to be a suggested training plan or an endorsement of anything I did or didn't do. It's meant to be the kind of thing I would have loved to read in my darkest moments of training (especially during the taper phase) - an example of what can and will go wrong, and, let's be honest, how little you can get away with doing and still not make an utter twonk of yourself on the day.
Getting Started
Since there's only a 1 in 8 chance of getting a place through the public ballot, and since the organisers' "HA! This pillock can't run a marathon!" filters had apparently broken, I decided that I really ought to use the place I'd been given and get cracking. Having deferred from the previous year, I already knew I would definitely be running, so I was able to get started way ahead of the date when that precious magazine pops onto the doormat, and your whole world starts spinning at the realisation of what you've actually volunteered to do.
 |
| "I have confidence in... actually, nothing right now. 26.2 miles? Are you insane?" |
I bring this up to point out that I am not convinced I would have made it if I had started from absolutely nothing in October, when runners traditionally receive the "You're In! (You absolute Lunatic)" letter - so piece of advice numero one, whether you have applied for the ballot or signed up for a charity place, is to get started ASAP. You're never going to say "I wish I hadn't done those 3 months of running" if you don't get in - there are plenty of other races in the world, and besides, the more you run, the more KFC you can eat, it's a scientific fact.
At one point, starting in the previous July seemed slightly crazy, like I might peak too early and be able to run 26.2 miles by Christmas, and then not know what to do with myself - of course thinking about this now I am literally (and by literally, I mean not literally) laughing my head off. Had I followed all the plans I made for myself back in July, yes there is a good chance I might have been able to run 26.2 way ahead of the big day (and wouldn't that have been fantastic, then I might have been able to actually give a thought to improving my time) - but we all know from doing GCSE revision that even the most impressively laminated training plans fall by the wayside once ugly old real life sticks its nose in.
As a case in point, I started the Couch to 5k programme (the generally recognised "Running 101" plan) at the end of May, and had duly completed it 9 weeks later, ending up with a personal best 5k of 27:44 minutes at the end of August. Surely world-beating marathon prowess was only a couple of months away? Well, sure enough, I moved right onto a 10k programme but soon found that work, work travel, colds, coughs and muscular niggles all conspired to slow me right down, with me eventually running my first continuous 10k in two years, on the 30th of December- some 18 weeks later.
 |
| There is an "official" Couch25k App, however I prefer this one - called simply "Get Running", it has a very nice lady who tells you when to walk and when to run, offers encouragement, and gives you a hug when it all gets a bit too much. |
Phase 1 complete - but there were only 14 weeks left to more than quadruple my distance...
Gear
How not to choose running shoes - Part 1: I fancy going for a run. These old Converse boots will do, after all they were good enough for Rocky... Result - chronic Shin splints.
 |
| "AAAAAADRIAN!! Why didn't you make me buy proper shoes?!" |
How not to choose running shoes - Part 2: Hello Sports Direct, what have you got, oh yes, those new Nike Airs look really awesome, I love that silver flash down the side - I'll take those please, no, no need to try them on... Result - Gradual calf pain.
How not to choose running shoes - Part 3: Oh hi, sports shop on my lunchbreak - I'd like some proper new running shoes that won't injure me please. What's that, you've got the exact same ones I previously had fitted, but in the new model? Oh, sure, perfect. Not in my size? Try a half size down? You're sure these really fit me? You don't think I should do a gait analysis again? Are you just trying to get rid of me? No, you think there's enough room there? Ok... you're the experts... Result - Incredibly uncomfortable toe positioning and a feeling of having been totally ripped off.
How to choose running shoes - Part 1: Hi there, specialist running shop, after work, on my way home. I'd like some proper running shoes, please, yes, sure, I will step onto the treadmill for gait analysis, wait, you want me to take my socks off, oh, I've got really horrible toenails - oh yes, right, you work in a running shop, no worries. Yes, I CAN see my feet landing awkwardly and how it looks like my ankles are going to snap with every step - and you're right, when I put on these fancy new shoes I do see how much better it looks. How much are they? AAAAHHHHHHHthat's lovely and fine because I want to run the London Marathon without injuring myself... Result - well, let's find out.
 |
| How not to look after your fancy new shoes - part 1. |
People often say that running's an excellent free way to get fit - I often say that's a load of old tosh and that I only just raised more money for charity than I spent on gear for training.
Somewhere in the middle lies the reality, but it's definitely the case that the further you start running, the more you realise that normal 'sports clothes' just aren't going to cut it. That old band T-shirt, the white gym socks, your normal boxer shorts, and a pair of jogging bottoms are totally fine to get started, but as soon as you start getting the least bit sweaty, you start to realise that you don't want natural cotton fibres anywhere near your bare skin.
So, aside from the two (yes, two) pairs of shoes, I found the following to be completely essential:
- Several pairs of running socks, made from special non-blister synthetic fibre.
- Several pairs of Nike Pro Combat underwear (I once wrote an entire blog on why these are necessary...)
- Several 'Technical' running shirts, and a breathable longsleeved top- again made from nothing that's ever grown in the ground - perhaps best you don't run near any naked flames.
- A proper, breathable, waterproof running jacket, as it gets damn sweaty inside a regular anorak when you run 10 miles in it
- Some lovely lycra man-tights and a pair of thin gloves for cold days. If you wear the man tights under a pair of big baggy shorts, you can not only avoid any embarrassing outlines, but you can also look a bit like MC Hammer.
- Bodyglide. Look it up. Trust me, you need this.
- Some normal fabric sticking plasters. There's a picture of my nipples which I could upload at this point to demonstrate why this is necessary, but I think you'd probably rather just trust me on this. There are a number of things you can do to avoid looking like the photo that can't be named, but suffice to say that the only one I've found that works well enough for long enough is two normal plasters. You're on your own trying to take them off, though... I take no responsibility for that.
Some non-essential things that I still wouldn't train without:
- My iPhone and the Endomondo app, which not only tells me how far I've run and how long it's taken me to do it, but also stores up stats so I can have a full on geek-out when I get home at which were my fastest miles and just how far off track I went when I got lost.
 |
| Plus you can draw pretty pictures with it. I still haven't quite managed to do the knob-shaped run one of my mates challenged me to, though. |
- A selection of HOOOOOOOOOOOOGE TOOOOOOOOOOOOOONS and some earphones which you don't have to continuously push back into your ears every few steps - that's not going to end well.
- My Heart Rate Monitor watch. There's been more than a couple of occasions when I've terrified myself by suddenly noticing that my pulse was racing towards 190, and thought it might be an idea to slow down.
- My Oyster Card wallet, enabling me to get home in case I break my ankle in Cockfosters, and also containing enough space for a bank card and an emergency tenner. It's definitely preferable to keeping the tenner in your shorts pocket and then finding yourself handing over a soggy rag to the poor woman in Gregg's to pay for your milkshake.
Next time: Starting on the Marathon Training Plan
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