Global Sport Stories

So here we are. And yes, it’s happened again. I’ve unintentionally pressed pause on the weekly uploads. My last installment (just over two weeks ago) saw all but a conclusion to my marathon training. I was just aiming to get in one final long run.

Fast forward two weeks to today and I am bedridden on bank holiday Monday having achieved my goal of a sub four hour marathon the day before!

Theoretically, having ticked off my final long run about ten days ago, I entered a period of rest, so I should have had no excuse not to upload a blog before my marathon. Sadly though, that wasn’t the case and here I am sat here with no excuses. 

As mentioned numerous times already, the final piece of my preparation puzzle was to run 30k, as I was told once you know you can achieve this milestone, come race day you can crawl the final 12k should you feel the need to. So combining three of my favoured 10k routes around Newcastle, I boxed off 30k in 3 hours 8 minutes.

Although feeling relatively adequate throughout the run, I experienced a greater sense of achievement upon completion of the 30th kilometre than I was expecting. I believe it made going one step further to 42k really achievable, and I started to anticipate the giddiness I was going to feel upon (hopefully) crossing the finishing line on marathon day.

Additionally, I suppose relief rushed over me. Despite loving running with a purpose and having to be active more or less everyday, honestly, I couldn’t wait not to run again for a while! I knew after 30k that I had to let my legs recover for the big day – so this meant no more running for a week!

Instead, it was back to surfing. And yes, I admit that this was perhaps risky, but everyone should know by now I can’t turn down an opportunity to suit up when the waves are good. Before even entering the water this proved to be a good decision. Why? A pod of playful dolphins were spotted so close to the shore! It was the clearest I’d ever seen them for sure and really gave both my girlfriend and I a reel buzz.

Aside from the two surf sessions we crammed in, I promise I did rest a little bit, which leads me up to the main event. Oh I did also do a couple of 4.5k shakeout runs mid week and the day before the marathon. This was a necessity I was told though, and honestly I could feel my legs stiffening up without the regular miles throughout the week… so I won’t make any apologies for that.  

Finally, May the 4th had come around and honestly, as my alarm went off at 6:30, I just really wanted to stay in bed. I couldn’t be bothered to run 26 miles! This of course was never really an option though, so I got my porridge down me, packed my bags and headed for the metro station. Although early morning on a Sunday, the metro filled up with those heading to Gateshead stadium for the event. This seemed to settle me slightly; the fact there would be others doing it with me oddly seemed to breed some confidence. I don’t know if I had been imagining a tiny event, but when arriving at the stadium it seemed anything but.

Any nerves had more or less disappeared, squashed by excitement. My girlfriend asked me if I had been nervous or feeling any pressure, to which I would be lying if I said I hadn’t. But when feeling so, internally I asked myself why I was nervous. I hadn’t set myself any strict goals. Yes sub four would’ve been nice but was I going to beat myself up over it if I didn’t achieve this? Course not. I was heading into the unknown and I was calm enough to accept this.

So when that starting gun went off, I just settled into a calm, controlled rhythm. My uncle had passed on some advice the day prior and with his strong background in distance running, I did my best to channel it. He advised not going hell for leather at the start, which I know sounds obvious, but it is so easy to get caught up – especially when you are feeling fresh at the start. He told me not to push it until at least half way, then, if I feel good I can push a little bit, then, make sure to leave some for the line – it’s always good to get past a few on the final stretch!

I believe my ridiculously consistent split times prove that I channeled his advice to the best of my ability, and I can gladly say I did overtake a bloke on the home stretch, so I definitely see that as a win. That’s getting ahead of myself though, as I need to divulge into the race itself!

One of my inspirations for signing up to the marathon in the first place was due to a man named Leodhais Macpherson (read more about his story here) and benevolently I ran just shy of the first 10 miles with him, all unplanned. Despite numerous online conversations, we had never actually met. But the hour and a half or so together provided ample time to get to know one another well – and what a pleasure it was by the way. Not only was Leodhais running his 100th marathon in the last 100 days, meaning he could guide me and my rookie ass through, but he was genuinely such an all round top bloke. It made the first spell of my longest ever run a pleasure… dare I say a little easy?

Armed with gels, bananas, electrolytes and even a pocket full of Haribo, I was bimbling my way around the 3 lap course, soaking up the noise from the crowds and just down right soaking due to the predictable downpours.

Without wanting to come across arrogant, I found myself half way into the run before I even knew it. Of course running with Leodhais helped, however, I also believe all of the other external factors and stimuli helped spur me on. This represents one of my biggest learnings from the whole experience; the power of distractions.

Reading the various signs spectators had creatively curated, recognising the faces of your counterparts as you constantly loop past them and trying to spot your girlfriend in the crowd are just three of the techniques I found myself using to take my mind away from the pain I was in. 

It’s at this point I have to give a huge shoutout to my girlfriend. Not only did she offer me words of encouragement and advice everytime I circled past, but she persisted to switch between three positions for the entire four hour duration of my run – all whilst in the wind and rain! This honestly meant so much to me and luckily for me I had a lot of time to contemplate just how much of a lucky man I am. However, again, it shocked me greatly as to how something so intangible could impact me physically. Knowing I had a friendly face waiting for me at the end of the bridge, and maybe a 30 second breather (armed with a Lucozade if I was really lucky) gave me a rush of energy both before and after seeing her; which I am assuming can only be explained psychologically and not by the sugary drink.

I think this is all a long winded way to extend my thanks for her support, but believe me when I say how I am struggling to put into words just how helpful that support was to my run and is something I totally overlooked prior to the startline… In another life I would do some sort of research project on this.

Anyway, enough of the soppy stuff. I had ticked off the half marathon mark and my body was feeling good and spirits were high. Trying to resist checking how far through the marathon I was, I eventually caved at what I was expecting would be the 30km point. I was wrong. 25k only! This shocked me and supposedly was a subconscious message: “Buckle in buddy, it’s only going to get tougher from here.”

Fiercely determined though, I battled on. And eventually it became decision time: “Do I have enough in the tank to achieve sub four hours?” I had never truly let the four hour pace setter out of my sight, gaining and overtaking him however remained a different challenge altogether.

Though pretending to make out I had a decision to make, I don’t remember ever having to make one. For as long as I could see the pacer and my legs were still spinning, I would do all in my power to make it over the finish line before him. It was just always going to be the case. The next part was toxically satisfying. I feel as though anyone who has semi consistently ran knows that when you’re fatigued, even the slightest increase in pace feels as though you’re now being asked to tow a bus behind you. 

However, despite the increased turmoil, edging ever nearer to the pacer made the pain worth it. I was never in a position where I would sprint past and leave him in my dust, but ever so surely, little by little, I gained, until eventually the man carrying the flag on his back faded into the background.

From here my mission was simple. Don’t let scary flag man come back past me. It was like being in one of those whacky YouTube challenges, just probably not as whacky. I knew if I simply sustained the pace I was going that the finish line would soon greet me. And not only would that be the first time ever running 42km, but in under my target time of four hours!

This idea was circling in my head, which I believe provided me with a second wind (although it was probably a fourth or fifth in actual fact). My legs continued to spin, my mouth started to smile and just like that I was back on the Gateshead Stadium track, bearing down on the finishing line.

The finishing line is a strange sensation. I compare it much to a long 12 hour shift in a hospitality job; when it ends it feels quite surreal that that isn’t what you are going to spend the rest of your life doing. Despite only running for four hours, my body had succumbed to the fact that that was its purpose now – to keep on running. So upon finishing and remaining stationary for more than 30 seconds, it all feels rather shocking – relieving also.  

I was lucky to be greeted by my girlfriend and her sister, who helped to make the moment a special one. Their love and support reminded me to celebrate what I had just achieved, and when I did take it all in, yeah, it felt pretty good. Although claiming not to have put any pressure on myself beforehand, as mentioned, as soon as I saw the four hour pacer, I wanted the sub four. Therefore, achieving this made the little training I had put in feel worth it and a sense of pride engulfed me for the rest of the day.

Then came the really hard bit…the post marathon pain. If you saw me over the next couple of days hobbling around like a 90 year old… no you didn’t.