I hate marathons. Or rather, I was filled with dread as the Edinburgh Marathon approached. I have described them previously as one hour of okay running, followed by one hour of pain, followed by one hour of unrelenting torture. I do longer races, ultras, that hurt considerably less. And most road marathons, such as Edinburgh, don't have interesting enough routes to distract you from the repetitive strain injury with scenery or terrain challenges.
It just becomes a timed challenge, all about the number on your watch when you finish, which means, for me, it is extremely unlikely (basically impossible) I'll do a personal best, and more likely a poor performance or generally disgrace myself with a crash and burn. Why would I sign up for that?
Sometimes you have to challenge yourself. A little wander outside the comfort zone. In order to minimise the pain and humiliation on the day I did a certain amount of preparation. I introduced a little bit more discipline to my running and personal habits, and it is this more than anything else that is the reason I would do another. I didn't follow a running schedule, but I did increase my effort from a few weeks out and, more importantly, tweaked my habits slightly.
rainy startline
photo Amy, many thanks
photo Amy, many thanks
I have always embraced long days out running so endurance training wasn't high on the list of stuff I needed to do. However I tend to dawdle and take photos on my journey runs, so I did a few Sunday runs with the Porties to get used to that awful feeling you get 15 miles into an 18 or 20 mile tempo run. And I tried to turn up regularly to club nights on a Wednesday and hill intervals on Thursdays for speed work and eyeballs-out training.
Then about 4 weeks before the marathon I stopped drinking booze. I generally get through 1.5 ~ 2 bottles of red wine a week. I'd feel a bit bereft when watching TV involving folk glugging wine but on the whole this was less of a hardship than I thought it might be. It is the first time in 40 years I have gone without a drink for a month. My reason was that I felt red wine contributes directly to the band of flab that adheres to my waist. The sobriety and feeling of moral superiority from temperate behaviour contributed nothing tangible to the marathon effort and I will not be adopting it as a life strategy.
Another consideration is work. I do a physical job and if I worked flat out the week leading into the marathon I'd feel it on race day. I had a large job on the go that looked like it would be just that; a tiring week of work before the marathon. So in a rare example of foresight I got a pal to help out with the painting, which halved the time schedule (huge thanks Les!) leaving me to swan about instead of up-and-down-ladders all week. Swanning about took the shape of a 20 miler 10 days before the race and another 3 days before. This may seem like insufficient taper but I have a fast recovery from long slow runs and found that a long (2 week) relaxing too-well-fed taper before Manchester may have been responsible for the 3.01 I did there last year.
Another consideration is work. I do a physical job and if I worked flat out the week leading into the marathon I'd feel it on race day. I had a large job on the go that looked like it would be just that; a tiring week of work before the marathon. So in a rare example of foresight I got a pal to help out with the painting, which halved the time schedule (huge thanks Les!) leaving me to swan about instead of up-and-down-ladders all week. Swanning about took the shape of a 20 miler 10 days before the race and another 3 days before. This may seem like insufficient taper but I have a fast recovery from long slow runs and found that a long (2 week) relaxing too-well-fed taper before Manchester may have been responsible for the 3.01 I did there last year.
start in Bristo Square
photo Kathy
photo Kathy
Shoes and kit become second nature when you do a lot of longer runs although I was nearly caught out by complacency: not doing a test run carrying the stuff I would carry on the day. Last year in Manchester I carried gels and a small soft flask of (red bull like) juice in the tall side pockets of some RonHill shorts I like to run in. It worked well and I planned to repeat it this year. Only I had worn and washed the shorts so many times during the year they had lost some of their taut-ness and the weight of 3 gels in one side pocket and the drink in the other pocket made the short's legs clap and flap on my legs more than I had experienced last year. First few miles I spent wondering if this would have any serious consequences. It did make me consume them earlier than planned and on the whole this was a good thing. I carried an additional 2 Gu caffeine gels in other pockets and took one or 2 of the provided gels along the route. It all seemed to work out well and I felt properly fuelled the whole way, while getting a real boost from the caffeine drink (taken between 9 and 10 miles) kicking in before halfway and a further boost from the gels shortly after I took each one. I also took 2 paracetamol with the caffeine drink which really helps assuage the general ache that dogs me from about halfway every marathon.
It was with growing trepidation we watched the forecast for the big day. At one point it looked like the strong wind might change direction at midday giving us a headwind on both the outward and homeward journey! But it settled into an initially wet and windy horror story. Now while the strong wind would help blow us to the turning point at 17.5 miles it would be in our faces for the last 8 miles, when you are falling apart and can do without any further discouragement. I set my marathon pb on this route when the wind was doing exactly the opposite and would have preferred an Easterly: in our faces when you're feeling stronger, and to our backs when you need a lift in the last few tough miles.
We walked up to Bristo Square in the drizzle with occasional heavy showers, put our stuff on the baggage van and jogged about trying to stay warm while the rain fell. Kathy and Amy were running about, high as kites. A big thank you to all the volunteers and marshals. I really don't think I'd be as generous to help out if I wasn't running. I don't really have a high regard for the organisation behind the event although this year it seemed to run smoothly, as far as I could see. It is overpriced and the route was slightly long (26.39 miles) but no complaints about the major stuff. I did not think much of the t-shirt in an environmentally unsound overpackaged box with only a couple of massage gels. Especially as the race was selling itself as a carbon neutral or ecologically sound event. No matter how much you sweep up the gel wrappers and water bottles and recycle them afterwards, you cannot say the whole thing was not doing a massive amount of wastage and pollution. I chose to take part because I feel sleeping in my own bed the night before and eating dinner and breakfast at home, contribute to arriving on the start line in the best possible state. Even if a bit grumpy about the shitty weather.
5 miles downhill through town to the prom
There were a couple of heavy showers in the first mile or 2 through town, but I was happy to get underway. I deliberately tried NOT to get carried away and go too fast to start with, while at the same time using the downhill nature of the first few miles to get ahead of schedule, arriving on the prom at 5 miles in 33 minutes. From here the rest of the route is on the coast and almost entirely flat.
It was great to see Nick and Tony (the Tiger) and others on Porty Prom. I was feeling ok about then. But as the ache creeps into your legs and back and shoulders you do wonder how the hell you are going to keep this pace going for another 20 miles. And you know very well the strong wind will be in your teeth. It is like being fed slowly into a threshing machine.
I ran to the turn at 17.5miles pretty much hating it. From about mile 7 or 8 it is a slow deterioration. As I said I took my caffeine drink and paracetamols early (before 10 miles) and this gave me both the stick and carrot. You will feel faster, you will feel less pain. And I did.
I noticed the guys at the front of the race (on their way back to Musselburgh) and how much their vests were flapping in the headwind. I resisted chatting to the anonymous runners beside me saying we are in for a kicking from the wind, well, because if I didn't say it, it might not happen. But it probably would.
It did. All my miles till we came out of Gosford estate (and out into the headwind on the main road) were between 6.32 and 6.55. Mile 19 was 7.05 and 20 was 7.14. However I must have been drafting some young guy (there were only young guys from this point onwards) as mile 21 ducked back under 7min miles for a 6.58.
I had seen Mitch at the turn, really quite close by. And saw a few faces in the pack as we got back on to the main road. I remember choking down a caffeinne gel as we ran through the estate. I like Gu gels when not breathing hard as they are a pleasant chocolate flavour if a bit thick, but this was like trying to swallow a fist of uncooked bread dough, and left me gasping. However 5 mins later I felt lifted.
Mary shouted and waved and I hoped her ebullience translated as a successful run. (It didn't, (her blog here) however she was fairly stoic about it which shows character.) Meanwhile I wasn't finding it quite as bad as I was anticipating. It was horrible and the wind was really tough in places, but what with drafting keen packs of young dudes, and managing to keep churning out miles paced with at least a 7 and not an 8 or 9 min mile on my suunto gave me reason to keep on fighting the fight. I went through 20 miles around 2hrs15 or 16 if you went by their mile markers which were beginning to drift from suunto miles. (Manchester all over again!) So I had 44 minutes to hobble out the last 10k. While that was possible it was not very probable in this wind. And also by this stage I was passing into the not-giving-a-fuck segment of the race. Runners were dropping like flies, which is always a great boost, as it reminds you that you are not having the worst possible day.
I ran to the turn at 17.5miles pretty much hating it. From about mile 7 or 8 it is a slow deterioration. As I said I took my caffeine drink and paracetamols early (before 10 miles) and this gave me both the stick and carrot. You will feel faster, you will feel less pain. And I did.
I noticed the guys at the front of the race (on their way back to Musselburgh) and how much their vests were flapping in the headwind. I resisted chatting to the anonymous runners beside me saying we are in for a kicking from the wind, well, because if I didn't say it, it might not happen. But it probably would.
It did. All my miles till we came out of Gosford estate (and out into the headwind on the main road) were between 6.32 and 6.55. Mile 19 was 7.05 and 20 was 7.14. However I must have been drafting some young guy (there were only young guys from this point onwards) as mile 21 ducked back under 7min miles for a 6.58.
I had seen Mitch at the turn, really quite close by. And saw a few faces in the pack as we got back on to the main road. I remember choking down a caffeinne gel as we ran through the estate. I like Gu gels when not breathing hard as they are a pleasant chocolate flavour if a bit thick, but this was like trying to swallow a fist of uncooked bread dough, and left me gasping. However 5 mins later I felt lifted.
Mary shouted and waved and I hoped her ebullience translated as a successful run. (It didn't, (her blog here) however she was fairly stoic about it which shows character.) Meanwhile I wasn't finding it quite as bad as I was anticipating. It was horrible and the wind was really tough in places, but what with drafting keen packs of young dudes, and managing to keep churning out miles paced with at least a 7 and not an 8 or 9 min mile on my suunto gave me reason to keep on fighting the fight. I went through 20 miles around 2hrs15 or 16 if you went by their mile markers which were beginning to drift from suunto miles. (Manchester all over again!) So I had 44 minutes to hobble out the last 10k. While that was possible it was not very probable in this wind. And also by this stage I was passing into the not-giving-a-fuck segment of the race. Runners were dropping like flies, which is always a great boost, as it reminds you that you are not having the worst possible day.
photo taken by Nick around 6 miles
The above picture (thanks Nick for the cheer and taking the photo) is interesting. You can put the numbers of the other dudes into the results and see who did what time. Out of the 5 of us here, tall guy 2342 would cross the line first in 2.59.02. Blue vest 546 squeaked under the 3hrs with 2.59.55; cutting it fine! Tattoo'd red vest 463 did 3.00.09. Ouch! The older guy 1542 in black looking like a seasoned vet (and in my 55+ age group) did 3.22.10 which reminds us of the disadvantage of being older.
In fact it occurred to me that it was madness chasing 3 hours. All my race times have slowed since 2014 the year I did 2.50 at Edinburgh marathon. You can pretend it is just the course was tougher or the wind stronger but I am not doing the times I used to, and so why try to hit a target that I never found that easy 10 years ago? Parkrun is a good example of the steady downhill results curve while my age-graded score remains near enough identical. It's that damn round number of 3hrs just sitting there. If all the elements; the training, the diet, the injuries, the sleep, the weather, if all these elements came together favourably I feel it would be possible to duck under 3 hrs. But it takes very little to derail the task.
Anyway I spent so much time trying to inconspicuously draft anyone that came past me, the miles began to pass fairly swiftly (a sign I was having a good run) and I could visualise the few twists and turns of the road ahead and really it wasn't that far to go. I stopped looking at my watch about 3 miles from the end as it was too much effort to lift and hold my arm while my aged eyes tried to focus on the numbers. I didn't give a hoot which side of the 3 hrs I finished and just wanted to do the best job possible, so that if the end result was 3.00.01 I would know that I couldn't have run it any faster.
Me and Roland
photo Mari
photo Mari
I got a jolt of adrenaline as we descended the road to the roundabout at Musselburgh. I had just caught Roland from Carnethy. He had given me a smile before the start but I hadn't seen him since. I saw him way up ahead and had been reeling him in for a mile or so catching him with less than a mile to go. I gave him a few words of encouragement as I overtook him which may have made him increase his effort to a point nearing self harm. He may be about 20 years my junior but when he crossed the line I think he was feeling a bit older. I got him a water and watched in case he passed out or had a wobbly. I have felt like that before and know what it's like.
The music had been playing full tilt at that roundabout in the last mile and I had a moment of hair-standing-on-end feeling the finish was in sight (round the corner!) and that I had enough left in the fuel tank to get both feet off the ground and put in a 7.01 mile (doing the additional .39 at 6.58 pace) to end the race. As I turned the corner to the finish line I could see the clock already said 3hrs and some change. Oh well. Officially 3.01.01. Faster than my 3.01 at Manchester and in considerably more harsh conditions. I wasn't disappointed as hopes of sub3 were dashed with the weather forecast before the race even started. I did feel I could not have squeezed a faster time out of myself and that all things considered I had done a decent effort under the circumstances.
I have felt a lot worse post race as well. I had nearly zero injuries (a slight blackening toenail a few days later, no blisters, no bad chafs) and after a great hot shower in the nearby building, and about 4 pints in the beer tent had no problems walking with Mary back to Portobello where we caught a bus. I really enjoyed the beers and ciders, although chairs or sun loungers would have been MUCH better than sitting on the damp grass. My legs don't do sitting on the ground at the best of times. And I was still FULL of caffeine from the race so happy to blether on to anyone who would listen. Good to see Graeme, Tim, Rachel and Jennifer. The relief of having done a reasonable job of something I'd been dreading was great. At some point, possibly during the race, the sun came out and toasted my face. Next day I had big trouble moving my legs and every time I got up from sitting at the computer, I did so with great difficulty. Weds and Thurs were pouring rain and I didn't run again till Saturday. And another thing. In Manchester my watch suggested I passed through the 26.2 mile mark at 2.59 and 57 seconds although I still had a few hundred yards to go to the official finish. Same thing this time. Scrutiny of the 26.2 mark suggests I passed through it at 2.59.55. Not that I am counting this as a sub 3. I am happy enough with 3.01.
To offset the defeat of the 3hr mark I found I was first in the 55+ category. While that is pleasing I should instead bear in mind first v50 was around 2.45. Now that IS impressive running. The lasting feeling I came away with is that I should probably, using similar tactics, give it another go to do sub3 because there aren't going to be many more opportunities to do this. But whatever the opposite of highly recommended is, (never again, maybe?), that.
I only have 2 drinks because I don't have any more than 2 hands
I have felt a lot worse post race as well. I had nearly zero injuries (a slight blackening toenail a few days later, no blisters, no bad chafs) and after a great hot shower in the nearby building, and about 4 pints in the beer tent had no problems walking with Mary back to Portobello where we caught a bus. I really enjoyed the beers and ciders, although chairs or sun loungers would have been MUCH better than sitting on the damp grass. My legs don't do sitting on the ground at the best of times. And I was still FULL of caffeine from the race so happy to blether on to anyone who would listen. Good to see Graeme, Tim, Rachel and Jennifer. The relief of having done a reasonable job of something I'd been dreading was great. At some point, possibly during the race, the sun came out and toasted my face. Next day I had big trouble moving my legs and every time I got up from sitting at the computer, I did so with great difficulty. Weds and Thurs were pouring rain and I didn't run again till Saturday. And another thing. In Manchester my watch suggested I passed through the 26.2 mile mark at 2.59 and 57 seconds although I still had a few hundred yards to go to the official finish. Same thing this time. Scrutiny of the 26.2 mark suggests I passed through it at 2.59.55. Not that I am counting this as a sub 3. I am happy enough with 3.01.
To offset the defeat of the 3hr mark I found I was first in the 55+ category. While that is pleasing I should instead bear in mind first v50 was around 2.45. Now that IS impressive running. The lasting feeling I came away with is that I should probably, using similar tactics, give it another go to do sub3 because there aren't going to be many more opportunities to do this. But whatever the opposite of highly recommended is, (never again, maybe?), that.
blah blah blah!
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