Wake me up when we get there.

I only like to update this blog after a good or successful period of training or after a significant event in my running life. The lack of updates over the past couple of months is most definitely an indicator that all is not going well. I dislike complaining about things but in light of recent events, there really is not much else to do. Usually, I am tired during and after running but at the moment I am tired of running. Every run, no matter how short, feels like an expedition. The tiredness I feel after a run seeps through my very bones. Running has become a very important part of my life. Without it I feel useless, like a failure. When I miss a run I feel like I have betrayed one of the foundations of my quiet existence.

A lot has happened in the past month. I have moved house and have a new part of the world to run around. It is an amazing place with perfect hills and mountains for fell running. Everywhere I look I want to run. I have had some great runs. It feels great to run to the summit of what seems like an impenetrable tower of a hill. And then coming down is a blast. I might struggle to the top in a wheezing, half conscious daze of exhaustion, but descending, I am a master. In a blur of crazed speed, every sense tingles with the knowledge that even the slightest lapse of concentration will result in a large measure of uncomfortableness. And I love every second of it. However, before I could get into the swing of a new place and a new training schedule, a large spanner was placed expertly into the works.

For a couple of months I have been having random stomach aches that have slowly got worse. They were more of an annoyance than anything else. They would wake me up for a few hours at night then subside. This left me tired but nothing that I couldn’t handle. Then, out of nowhere, the pain got to excruciating levels. Now, as a runner, I consider myself to be fairly well acquainted with pain and know that I have a good tolerance for it. You learn to ignore the screaming muscles or blistered feet or rotting gut and just press on no matter how uncomfortable. But this was different. This pain cut to my very core and no position or mindset would alleviate it in the slightest. When trying to stand my mind would go blank and I would find myself, seconds later, on the floor. I have never fainted in my entire life so it is not an experience that I am familiar with. However, on the floor of my new home, the darkness was crowding my vision and there was absolutely no escape from the gut wrenching pain. Time for the hospital.

I won’t go into the lengthy and uncomfortable details but I was poked and prodded, given morphine (good stuff), poked and prodded some more and then told I had a problem with my gall bladder. Nothing life threatening but they would have to operate and whip the little fella out of there. Unfortunately, due to the severity of the attack, the whole general area was too inflamed to do it any time soon. I was eventually allowed to go home feeling sore and sorry for myself. At least I wasn’t in pain but the whole ordeal had taken its toll. During my stay at the hospital I wasn’t allowed to ingest anything until they had diagnosed what the problem was. This meant that I hadn’t eaten anything for almost 48 hours and eating was uncomfortable in the weeks afterwards. In the last couple of weeks I have done very little exercise and have lost a stone in weight. I am slowly getting back to strength but feel like I have well and truly had the stuffing knocked out of me.

I am struggling to run 20 miles a week and consequently have had to have a serious think about what my running goals are this year. Whilst the operation I need to fix me is not particularly complex, it will most probably prevent me from doing any serious running for a few weeks. In addition to this, with the NHS waiting lists, I am unlikely to get operated on until summer time. This would put it right in the period when my training would be peaking for my first ultra-marathon, the High Peak 40 Mile Challenge. With a heavy heart I have decided to postpone my ultra-marathon plans until after I have sorted out this problem. Maybe it’s just my body’s way of telling me that it’s just not ready for that sort of challenge yet. I suppose there is no need to rush into these things.

My main goal is to keep running and racing but I feel I need to start again; wipe the slate clean. I will go back to the absolute basics and build up my fitness mile by mile. The most important thing is to never stop running. I have used that age old trick of sticking to what you know and so my goal for this year will be the Snowdonia Marathon (sound familiar?). Little by little I will build back the fitness that I had and more and in doing so, become better. I will keep moving forward and eventually I’ll get where I’m needing to be got. I’ll look back and be mystified as to why I’m making all this fuss. It will just be like one of those horrible miles in a long run where you just want to sit down and sleep. But when you don’t stop you soon forget why you wanted to stop in the first place.

Running at the Mercy of Time

I am very busy with moving house at the moment so haven't had very much time to do the blog thingy recently. It also explains the tardiness of this race report. When things have settled down a bit I am going to make a conscious effort to update this more often and with a little more care and attention. I promise, it's in the New Years Resolutions. Which reminds me, Happy New Year to all. Now, I am going to be really lazy and just include the notes from my training diary as a race report. I know, I know, it's not on but it will have to do.

"... 02/01/11 - Central Lancashire New Years Half Marathon

Although it is a new year, this half marks the end of my first YEAR (!!) of running. Whilst I say goodbye to the old era I am truly excited about the new one. My training hasn't been going particularly well. My biggest shortfall is the lack of consistency in my training. This has been amplified by the Christmas holidays. Together with my lack of a healthy diet, this is something that I wish (and need) to rectify throughout this new year. I was very aware of this lack of training as I lined up on the start. I had no hopes of a good finishing time and just decided to try and enjoy the experience.

As I was unsure of my level of fitness I had to run by feel. I started off quite quickly: first 10k covered in 53 minutes. By mile seven I was struggling to keep pace and made a conscious decision to slow down. This lost me a lot of places but was necessary not to blow up. I am pleased about this. When I ran the Newark half I ran myself into the ground over the first half and had a horrible time in the second. This time I thought "take a few miles off then finish strong". It was a good decision.

From mile seven to ten I slowed down and the miles slipped by quite amiably. After this respite I concentrated on slowly increasing my pace. I pushed as hard as I could and felt proud that I managed to finish strongly. It wasn't the best race strategy (the second 10k was 4 minutes slower) but I adapted and pulled through.

Surprisingly, my legs held up pretty well. There was a slight tightness in my right hamstring and my right foot hurt a bit towards the end. In terms of how my legs felt, it was the easiest half marathon I have run. I just ran out of puff half way round. My finishing time of 1 hour and 55 minutes make it the fastest I have ever run over that distance and a resounding PB. Not a bad way to finish my year of running = I AM HAPPY.

At the end I suffered slight cramps all over my legs and was very stiff after the drive home. Over the next few days I suffered delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) in my legs and shoulders but I will be fine when that goes.

NOTE ON NUTRITION AND FLUIDS. I drank water every 2.5 miles and took a gel at the start, mile 5 and mile 9. I DON'T LIKE THE GELS: they are sticky and awkward to eat and the wrappers are annoying to dispose of on the run. In future, I will try to use sweets (Jelly Babies?) and an electrolyte drink on longer runs and races. I will experiment with DIY, homemade electrolyte drinks. Spending the extortionate amounts of money required to buy the Lucozade sport drinks gives me the distinct impression that I am being ripped off (this applies to pretty much all the other brands as well). Investigate!

Whilst I am pleased with my race, my biggest shortfall is, not surprisingly, my fitness. It is nice to get a PB but I shouldn't get carried away. The course was flat and fast and I finished way down in the field. Of course, I am only competing against myself but I do need to start afresh now with new goals and dreams; and with a new sense of determination. I need to get better! I need to be consistent! ..."

I think it only polite to thank the race organisers and marshalls for the efforts that they put into the race. It was a very good event, flat and fast and well marshalled. Personally, I would have liked a couple more water stations (there were only two) but that's because I am slow and sweat rivers. I took a bottle around with me so it was not the end of the world. I am looking forward to 2011 which hopefully will include lots of fell races and an ultra marathon. I will post an in depth blog about my running plans for the year in the next couple of weeks. Until then, I leave you with a couple of well meaning quotes.

"There's no such thing as bad weather, just soft people" - Bill Bowerman.

"I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more" - Fight Club.

Tatton Yule Yomp 10k

Some things are happening. 1.Winter has arrived with a bang and despite the amazing carpet of snow, it is bloody freezing. 2.My post marathon recovery is complete and my legs are feeling good again. 3.I am injury free and looking forward to the inevitable and extravagant festive celebrations.

Having said all this, the past few weeks have been up and down. Something in my mind just hasn't been giving me the extra push that I've been used to in this last year. That's not to say that I'm not enjoying my runs. It's just that it takes an extra level of determination to get out the door. I think that the cold and the looming Yuletide haven't particularly helped. It feels like I'm maintaining my fitness instead of increasing it.

In my preparation for a half marathon on the 2nd of January I decided to do a 10k race. The Tatton Yule Yomp in Knutsford seemed to fit the bill. It was fairly close to home and was on the correct weekend. It was also my first 10k race since high school. Since the marathon I have only been running short distances with the maximum length of my long runs being 11 miles. As a consequence of this I was able to concentrate on upping my pace. I've done plenty of tempo work and interval sessions and confidently ran a sub 50 min 10k on the treadmill. Of course, I knew that a race situation would be different but I was confident that a sub 50 minute race was at least physically possible. As the race day approached I discovered an important and hitherto unknown fact that the race was cross country.

The morning of the race was ice cold and Tatton Park was covered with a freezing mist. I felt slightly stupid getting lost trying to find the race registration especially having two GPS devices in the car. Nevertheless, with a bit of hustle and bustle I managed to get to the start line just in time, fired up and ready to go.

The first mile was tricky. In order to run at my target pace I was forced to weave in and out of the crowds of people. I must have overtaken a couple of hundred people in this first mile. It was frustrating as this portion of the race was mostly downhill. However, I was having fun. As a solitary runner in training I rarely get the chance to run with other people and it is always a pleasure. I enjoy the snippets of conversation and the sense of purpose garnered from hundreds of people moving in one direction.

The second mile was much the same and it was not until the third that I had the space to get into my rhythm. The freezing conditions and nature of the course reminded me of cross country in school. I was taken back to miserable mornings of forced torture where I would struggle through through pits of mud and freezing water. I would often finish close to last and always hated how rubbish I was but never had the conviction to do anything about it. I was always a sprinter in school so forcing me to run anything over 400m was a cruel and unpleasant injustice. I had all the grace of a weightlifter dancing an act out of Swan Lake. While I don't claim to have regained much of that grace I do have renewed sense of determination and a new found tolerance for pain. Also, no one is making me do this except me.

I knew that the second half of the race would require me to push as hard as I could. As a consequence I remember very little of these latter stages. All I knew was that I was very tired and at any moment I would be on the limit of my fitness. On the plus side I was still overtaking people and still going strong. From the wheezing and huffing around me I ascertained that there were people a lot worse off than me. With a mile to go I upped my pace again. This was going to be hard.

My other races have been feats of endurance as opposed to fitness. The marathon and half marathons I have completed were dependent on my leg muscles not giving up and falling off half way round. This 10k business was all about getting enough oxygen into my lungs and not passing out. In that last mile it felt like I was sucking in a gallon of air on every step and with a quarter of a mile to go my vision was starting to cloud. As soon as I saw the finish line 300m away I kicked again. Pushing into the familiar sprint I've come acquainted to at the end of all my runs. I had finished strongly and now all that was left to do was to fight the urge to throw up. Hacking one's guts up whilst someone hands you a medal and a Warburtons festive fruit loaf is hardly dignified.

After a few minutes I calmed down and jogged slowly back to the car. It was nice to still have the use of my legs after a race. It usually takes a good thirty minutes for me to recover from some of my longer endeavours. As I munched on Jaffa Cakes and quaffed hot tea I watched the 3k fun run going by. All that zen running rubbish about kids having great running action is a load of old twaddle. I saw several toddlers who would have been faster if they ran the course backwards. Pretty cute though.

I didn't know what my time was but I was fairly sure I hadn't run a sub 50 min. When the results were published my official time was revealed to be 51:58. I was initially a bit disappointed not to crack 50 minutes but then I looked at the standings. I came 191st out of 652. Not bad for a first 10k. I am pleased because I think, if I was a bit more race smart, I could have gone faster. I ran a huge negative split where my second half was two minutes faster than the first. My biggest mistake was overestimating the field and starting way back at the starting line. This lost me a lot of time. I also wasn't very sharp from the start and it took me way too long to get into a rhythm. Perhaps a longer and more intense warm up would have helped in this regard. All I know is that if I was two and a half minutes quicker I would have made the top 100. That is surely something to aim for.

This has been a great experience and I have learnt a lot more than I expected. In my other races I have just been aiming to finish within a few minutes of my target time. This 10k gave me a taste of competition; a sense that I was running against people not with them. This way is not necessarily better, just different.

Next up is the Central Lancashire New Year Half Marathon where I will be running a lot more slowly. It will be nice to be back in familiar distance territory. You know where you are with a half.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Tread Carefully

The world is cold these days. There is no warmth to be got from these people carefully treading the ice covered streets. Their blank faces are sunk into tightly wound scarves and pulled up hoods. With the festive spirit on the edge of their quiet minds they worry about money and reality tv. No one seems very happy and I can't say that I blame them. The world is indeed a cold place.

These things pop into my head whilst I run past shuffling figures in the grim afternoon light. I am not running towards or from anything. Just a long 10 mile loop in the snow. Long runs are like mini lifetimes. The undulations of my mind are like waves in the solitude. The hard times match the good times. Through the cloud of every breath I am reminded why I love running.

This week has been difficult. The room where I live out most of my life is warm. Warm and forever comfortable. It contains the things that I need for my sanity. Most important of which is the peace and solitude that it contains. Safe in that room it is sometimes difficult to work up the courage to get out the door. My gps finds its satellites and leaves me shivering in the garden, waiting to set out. Once underway, my mind drifts from one thing to another. The hypnotic effect of every stride pounds my mind into submission. The miles slip by and with every passing minute it feels like I've been out in the cold for an age and yet no time at all.

I am held back by laziness. Sometimes it is just too hard to move my body and mind. Why is it easier to do nothing when moving feels so good? Not that it is all bad though. In this last week I have done all the important running; the long slow run and tempo work. I ran a 50 minute 10k on the treadmill in preparation for the race in a fortnight. I am running more strongly than ever and for the time being am not afflicted by the aches and pains of last months efforts.

As I run through the snow I am jolted back into reality as I slip on some ice. With my arms waving like a mad man I regain my balance and save myself the humiliation of sliding along the road on my arse. The ground continually warns me to tread carefully as, for some time now, my thoughts are strewn along these old grey roads. My time in these parts is drawing to a close and soon I must look to new roads to run down. I will miss these roads and their thoughts. I will miss the warmth from solitude that they have given.

Post Snowdon Life

The few days after the marathon I was suffering from very bad delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS). I am not used to this as my leg muscles are usually quite fresh after even my long training runs. I am used to this type of muscle soreness after more explosive bouts of exercise such as football or tennis. Just goes to show what those last six miles of a marathon do to the legs. Needless to say, I was hobbling around the house like something out of Dawn Of The Dead and I was even reduced to coming down the stairs on my arse on Sunday afternoon. How do zombies go up and down stairs?!

I suffered quite a bit on the Sunday night. My body’s thermostat was seriously on the blink and I sweated a huge amount. It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water over me in my sleep. This was quite strange as I didn’t sweat too much during the marathon but my body was more than making up for it that night. After a sleepless night and with legs that didn’t work I was off to work for three days straight. Fun times.

By Wednesday the soreness had subsided and against my better judgement I went out for a little run. I had decided earlier in the week that I wouldn’t do any running at all but I succumbed to the urge and off I went. Just a little one and a half miles at a very slow pace. It’s nice to run without the pressures of a looming marathon. A weight has certainly been lifted from my shoulders and as a result my knee seems to be behaving itself for the time being.

When the immediate marathon preparation was in shambles and it looked like I wouldn’t be making the start line I rather hurriedly signed up for a couple more races. This was largely a rebellious move to ensure that I wouldn’t lose motivation and have my training grind to a halt. It is odd what we do in those darker moments and I suppose everyone copes in slightly different ways. I wanted to make sure that the injury would not stop me moving forward. My goal race is a half marathon at the beginning of January and a preparation 10k in the middle of December. This creates a slightly busier end to the running year than I had anticipated. It also means that I need to create a balance between training for these races and not overtraining in the aftermath of the marathon. I am really looking forward to letting rip on my first 10k though. At last a race where I can rely on my aerobic fitness instead of worrying that my legs might fall off in the last few miles.

I ran eight miles last week and intend to do 15 this week, 25 the next and then up to a maximum of about 35 for a few weeks before the half. I have sorted out my training schedule and will try and follow it in a more disciplined manner than I did before the marathon. I am also keen to do strength work on my legs to try and stop any knee problems recurring. I need to lose a further stone in weight to become a bit more biomechanically efficient. As ever, this means cutting out the sugary treats and concentrating on more veggies. This might be a little tricky over the festive season but we shall see.

I decided to spare no expense and buy my proper marathon photos in which I seem to be pulling a series of desperate and largely inexcusable faces. I either look exhausted, demented or both but 26.2 miles is a pretty good excuse so to hell with it.

I can't remember where this was but I look pretty knackered so I am going to have a wild guess that I am running up a hill. Those other two look pretty fresh though.

In the rain, sprinting like a maniac and looking like I'm pretty happy with the end in sight.

That's the finish line! Right there! Wierd celebrations on the finishing straight. I might try and look a bit more sane in future marathons. That is, if that's an option.

Snowdonia Marathon 2010

The Snowdonia Marathon boasts a spectacular and demanding route which circles Snowdon. It runs from LLanberis over Pen Y Pass; down to Beddgelert then past Waunfawr and back to Llanberis. It is widely regarded as one of the most scenic marathons in the UK. The huge changes in elevation and weather also make it one of the hardest. This year is Snowdonia’s 28^th Marathon. It is my first.

I started the year feeling like I had become too comfortable with life. After a hard shift at work I would crack open a few beers and drinking to excess was routine each weekend. My smoking was also a problem. Like every smoker and non-smoker know: smoking is a stupid habit. It was particularly stupid for me because it often made my mild asthma a lot worse. Also, the two habits of drinking and smoking would often go hand in hand. One could not be done without the other. This meant that I wouldn’t smoke too much in the daytime but would more than make up for it in the evenings and weekends. I was quickly putting on more weight than the festive excuses would allow. At the start of 2010 I was two stone overweight and not very happy with the early onset middle aged spread that I was developing. Like many people who start running I was getting depressed at the lack of progression in my life. I really needed to run away from my past and keep moving forward at all costs. Running seemed the only option.

Like most people I was made to run in school. I was quite good in both long distance and sprint but by the time anyone noticed I had discovered smoking, drinking and laziness. From then on I ran occasionally but never kept it up for more than a week. Part of the problem was that whenever I ran I tried to run as quickly as I had done in school. Of course, this just led to me getting too tired too quickly and left me disheartened at my lack of ability. This time I followed a training plan which increased my mileage slowly and sensibly. I immersed myself in books and magazines to learn exactly how complicated it could be putting one foot in front of the other. What I’ve found is that to varying degrees of accuracy everyone who has ever run has an opinion on the best way to do it. This means there is an almost infinite amount of advice on nutrition to running style to fashion. This sea of knowledge seems to exist solely to confuse the novice runner. However, two pieces of advice seemed to stand out, First off, the most important item is a good pair of running shoes which are fitted at a specialist running shop. Secondly, having a goal is very important to help motivate and encourage. With the first one ticked off I went about setting my goals.

Whilst flipping through a running magazine I came across a particular breed of mad men and women. These are the strange and almost superhuman set of creatures known as ultra runners. I was instantly captivated by the crazy feats of endurance that these people put themselves through. How did I not know that there were such things as 100 mile races; or that people ran continuously for 24 hours. These people run through deserts and mountains seemingly impervious to weather conditions. I was captivated by the sense of freedom that these people must feel. I wouldn’t even consider walking a mile to the shops leave alone running these seemingly impossible distances. I suddenly thought that it would be an amazingly simple way to see the countryside. If you could run 100 miles anything could be possible. A very stupid idea slowly started to hatch. I wanted to run an ultra marathon by the summer of 2011 and become an ultra runner.

To accomplish this long term goal I needed to set out a series of stepping stones along the way. One of these (admittedly, rather large) stepping stones was to run a marathon. The Snowdonia Marathon seemed the obvious choice as it was close to home and gave me ten months to prepare. It also provided me an opportunity to run around one of the most beautiful areas in Wales.

In this blog I have detailed the ups and downs of my training and the definite highs of completing two half marathons. Needless to say, I won’t go through it all again here. However, my immediate preparation for the marathon was far from perfect which meant that my confidence was at rock bottom. A month ago I was hoping for a finishing time that was close to four hours but now I considered my odds of just completing the marathon were approximately fifty-fifty. As I sat in my car on a very wet Llanberis morning I was apprehensive but genuinely pleased just to be starting.

The weather was supposed to be quite mild but as I walked to and from the race registration it was clear that it was going to be far from a nice day. Never trust the weatherman. With some last minute changes to my attire, and after 200 trips to the toilet I lined up at the start confident that I was ready for anything. Around me people chatted and it seemed half of them had done the race before and were giving advice to the other half of first timers. “Don’t go all out on the first downhill bit” said one experienced looking fellow. “Everyone walks the hill at mile 22” said another gnarly looking man in a 100 Marathon Club vest. I was more than happy to take these pieces of advice on board as I had very little notion of a race plan of my own. All I wanted to do was to take the first half easy and then see what would happen. I also knew that this was going to be the toughest day of my life. My mental and physical reserves would be tested to their absolute limited. Of course, I tried not think about any of this and, with very little fuss or fanfare, the race began.

I was very aware that the first five miles were going to be a test of my bad knee. If the pain surfaced early on I knew that it would be nearly impossible to get to the end. So, every step was a tentative shuffle into the unknown. Other than that I felt pretty good and was running well whilst deliberately holding back. The climb up to Pen y Pass can only be described as “constant”. It wasn’t particularly steep but the three miles of uphill just went on forever. Half way up someone said “they say you should never look at the white house at the top of Llanberis as it never seems to get any nearer”. Of course, when someone says “don’t look at something” all you can do is look. Thanks to Mr.Stupid, I was now trapped in an optical illusion where the house does indeed get no closer. The persistence is rewarded at the top of the Pass by a glorious view and the promise of several miles of relaxing downhill.

As I started on the long downhill section to Beddgelert I was keen to hold back even though people started streaming past me. A couple of things started to happen on this stretch. Firstly, my knee gave out its first pang of pain. This weighed quite heavy on my mind for a bit and I started to get angry at the thought of pulling out. Then I had a bit of a mental breakthrough. Now this is a bit mad so bare with me. In my mind I spoke to my knee along the lines of: “look, I know you hurt but I am just going to ignore you. I don’t care what you’ve got to say, I am just going ignore you. Do your worst”. And that was that. I was aware of the discomfort throughout the rest of the race but I didn’t pay it any attention until right at the end. It was some kind of Vulcan mind control shit. From that point onwards I didn’t give my knee a second thought.

The second thing to happen was that after my first gel my stomach started throwing loops. On my long training runs I have never really had any problems in the stomach department. The Lucazade gels have always worked for me and I wasn’t really expecting my stomach to start acting up after just six miles. It occurred to me that with all my injuries leading up to the marathon I hadn’t used any gels for six weeks. I had only done short runs and had no need of them. Of course, this meant that my stomach wasn’t used to them and was revolting. In future I might take a gel before every bout of exercise during a taper. Anyway, I struggled with this all the way to mile 15. I won’t go into specifics but let’s just say that whoever was behind me would have got 9 miles worth of gut rot. Sorry about that.

I kept a nice constant pace up until the half way point. I reached 13.1 miles at Beddgelert in two hours and ten minutes which was bang on my target pace. The long hill out of Beddgelert presented me with my hardest mile so far. For some reason I went through a bad patch on mile 15. I think maybe it was just the thought of how far there was left to go. From mile 17 I kept on thinking about what the old codger said at the start: “everyone walks the hill at mile 22”. In truth, I was just looking forward to having a bit of a walk. I was really starting to struggle and decided that I would have two minutes of walking at every mile marker. I had stopped looking at the scenery, my head was down and my pace had dropped considerably. I got really demoralised at this stage and felt trapped between the impulse to stop and the determination to carry on. Luckily I managed to cling on to the latter. At mile 20 I was acutely aware that every step was the longest I had ever run. I just wanted to get to mile 22 where “everyone walks”. I naively thought that it would be easy from that point. A bit of uphill then a fast descent back into Llanberis. How wrong I was.

When I reached the foot of the hill at mile 22 my legs were gone. My feet and muscles were barely functioning and I was reduced to walking for the best part of two miles. I wasn’t alone in doing this. Nearly everyone except the odd nutter was reduced to an uphill shuffle. Halfway up I was passed by a guy still running who looked about 100 years old. I hope I’m that fit when I get to his age. It was also at this point that the weather turned from grim to hellish. Fierce lashings of rain accompanied by rumblings of thunder and lightning made the climb more ominous. I was also aware that running to the top of a high hill in a thunder storm is not the best policy if one wants to keep living. The most depressing thing was how long and steep this hill was. Physically, I should have been more resilient and tried to run but mentally, I couldn’t have given any more at that stage. If I was mentally tougher I would have tried to run for twenty paces then walk for twenty paces. However, in my state it was all I could do to just keep moving forward. The hill just seemed to carry on and on until at last the first signs of glorious, amazing, beautiful downhill trail.

With stiff legs I started to run again. The weather had been damp all the way round: dry with the occasional heavy shower. But by this point the weather had gotten ridiculous and the pathway had turned into a stream. It was useless to try and stay dry and whilst people were going the long way round the puddles I came crashing through with gleeful abandon. I was actually beginning to enjoy this. The path then became so steep that it became difficult to keep my footing. With most people wearing road shoes everyone was slipping and sliding. If there was a Ministry of Silly Runs we would have all been part of it on that slope. It would have been tricky in fell running shoes but in road shoes we might as well have been running on ice. I was now officially having fun.

Once I hit the tarmac my knee suddenly became really painful and on the steep descent my quads were in agony. I was forced to slow down but I didn’t really care because I knew that I was going to make it. At this point the rain shifted up another gear and became insane. Over the last two miles I had been experiencing a proper “runners high” and the further change in the weather got me laughing. It was just ridiculous. It seemed the closer I got to the finish line the worse the weather got. But, I knew I had beaten it. Nothing was going to stop me now. As the road levelled out I kicked on and flew around the last few corners until I saw the finish line. Then I kicked again, sprinting the last fifty meters and across the finish line.

Through the torrential downpour I was greeted by a woman who kindly put a space blanket over my shoulders and told me that we were all mad. I wasn’t going to disagree with her. And I wasn’t going to stop smiling. Now, I am not an overly emotional human being and after hearing stories of people crossing their first marathon finish line I didn’t know what to expect. Wandering away from the finish area, I was caught with a feeling somewhere between sheer relief and happiness. The former made me want to cry and the latter made me want to laugh. The feeling only lasted a second but it felt good. With the emotional moment over I went to find a wall to lean against. My finishing time: 04:48:30. I am pleased that I managed to do it in less than five hours but the time is not really important. I am at peace with just finishing.

There is nothing quite like the calmness that exhaustion provides. As I was congratulated by my family I felt quite far away. I was getting cold and was really appreciative of the hot coffee at the hall. Once I got changed into some dry and warm clothes I started feeling a bit more normal. The organisers and marshals did a stellar job and deserve as much credit as the runners for putting up with some of those conditions. I’m also really thankful of my family who put up with the crazy rain at the finish and who drove me home and fed me steak.

Over the past few days I have been perfecting the zombie walk. It’s very difficult to walk up stairs without bending your legs. I’ve been eating a lot and trying to stay off my feet. I am in a great amount of pain but am constantly reassured by the fact that I am a marathoner. At mile 17 I felt like maybe marathons weren’t for me. Now I’m looking for my next one. I would like to try a flat one in future safe in the knowledge that my time will only get better. At least I know that there is not going to be a harder course than that.

With the breathtaking hills and apocalyptic weather Snowdonia has given me a glimpse of my own frailty and of my own strength. They say you learn something about yourself in those last few miles. I learnt that I really like rain and splashing through puddles. It really was one of the most amazing things I have ever done and I will certainly continue being a marathoner for many years to come.

Marathon News

Did it! I don't think I'll ever walk right again.