End of chapter three

End of 2108 results sheet:

14 miles achieved.

117 days to go.

Need to work on strengthening my knee.

Pleased with my progress so far. Looking forward to pushing onward and getting more miles under my belt.

The History of the Marathon

Another wonderful Christmas is in the books. I ate, drank and made merry. Now it’s time to get back on track, and what better way to do that than by reading a story?

It's funny because it's true.

I’ve been wondering about where the marathon originated for a few weeks now, so here’s my take, based on minimal research and absolutely no effort whatsoever:

The History of the Marathon:

Most of this story comes from Ancient Greece. Like many tales that originate in those long-forgotten days, most of this tale is probably romantic invention that was added, fabricated, and expanded upon by later historians and chronicle writers. As such, this tale should be taken with a shovel-full of salt because it’s closer to a Hollywood story than actual history. The story of the modern marathon begins with a battle.

490 BC. Late summer. Greece. The desert-strewn plains of the Marathon coast gleamed with swords and spears and shields. At one side of the field stood the Greek army – hopelessly outnumbered, still awaiting the arrival of their Spartan allies, who were at least ten days away. At the other end, with the sea and a fleet of ships behind them, stood the Persian army – a mighty force of conquerors and master tacticians who had never lost a battle. Things looked grim for the Greeks. If they failed, all of Athens would soon fall to Persia.

But luck was on the side of the Greeks that day. Many of their warriors were hoplites – men armed with short swords and shields – and would not have stood a chance against the much larger Persian army, especially not with the cavalry lying in wait. No historian can agree on what triggered the battle, but it seems that the Greeks lunged first. Perhaps the cavalry left the field, or were moving into a more strategic position. Whatever the case, the horses left the arena, prompting the Greeks to charge their enemy.

A modern view of the battlefield.

The Persians were not used to this sort of combat. They had swordsmen and archers, yes, but most of their victories had come from keeping the enemy at bay and crushing them with cavalry. Now that the battlefield was even, the highly-trained Greeks were in control. They marched to the limits of the Persian archer’s arrows and sprinted the remaining two hundred metres, weighed down by metal helmets, leather armour, heavy short swords, and rounded shields. This sudden lunge was either a surprise attack or a desperate gamble, but it worked. The extreme edges of the Greek army made quick work of the Persian flanks, then pressed in toward the centre, where the fighting was most fierce.

Nobody knows how long the battle truly lasted, nor how many died (Herodotus says over six thousand Persians slain and only one hundred and ninety-two Greeks, but history is written by the winners). In the end, the Persians broke and fled back to their ships, awarding victory to the defenders. This is a defining moment in western history – the first time the Persians had ever been defeated, decades before 300 Spartans would achieve a similar goal. The Persian global conquest was halted, possibly even foiled forever by this one battle.

This is where romantic invention steps into the fray and muddies the waters. A runner named Phillippides (who we shall call Phil to spare my poor fingers) was tasked with hurrying back to Athens immediately after the battle and informing the population of this stunning victory. Phil dropped his helmet, sword, and shield and began running, clad only in his linen undergarments and a pair of sandals. What’s the distance between Athens and Marathon, you ask? Why, it’s twenty six point three miles exactly.

Phil raced across the dusty plains, feet thundering along the ground, blood pumping hard in his ears. He ran and he ran and he ran, until finally he reached Athens and burst into the council chambers. Then he either shouted, ‘Joy to you, we’ve won!’ or ‘Joy, we win!’ to the stunned counsellors. And you know what the world’s first marathon runner did next?

He-

fell-

down- 

dead.

The story of Phil the marathon runner is likely a confusion of two other similar events that took place around the same time as the Battle of Marathon The first is a runner named Pheidippides, who was tasked with asking the Spartans for assistance before the battle began. Pheidippides laced up his sandals and raced to Sparta from Athens, a little over one hundred and forty miles away. This is the same as running from London to Normandy, and he managed it in less than thirty-six hours. This event inspired the modern ‘Spartathon’ endurance challenge, a similar race that takes place in Spain every year.

The second event is the massive return journey the Greeks had to make immediately following the battle. Once victory was granted, the army needed to get back to Athens right away – the Persians had sent ships around Cape Sounion to attack the defenceless capital. That meant the army – exhausted, bloodied, victorious – needed to march twenty six point three miles, still clad in their armour, before the ships could dock and unload. They reached Athens in the afternoon on that same day, just in time to watch their enemies turn away from Athens and sail off into the sunset.

And that’s where the modern marathon comes from. This legendary event was brought back into public consciousness in 1896, with the very first modern Olympics, held in Greece. This event even traced the original route, starting in Marathon and concluding in Athens. I have nothing but respect for the runners who managed to complete that incredible course in those days. This is what their training looked like:

This was before anybody understood how to train or tone or condition the human body. This is all sheer willpower.

Nowadays marathons are held almost every week across the globe. Hundreds of thousands of people compete every year, running the same distance as those legendary Greek warriors. I have to admit, the thought that I could consider myself on par with the world’s greatest soldiers is an exciting one. I might never have anything else physically in common with these people, but I could compete in a similar endurance challenge. Maybe when I cross the line, I’ll shout ‘Joy to you, we’ve won!’

Do I have any desire to take part in the Spartathon, you ask? Um… no. Let’s try and do one ridiculous thing at a time, shall we?

Mistletoe and wine

You know what it is.

Here we go. My first Christmas since deciding to train for a marathon. I should be careful. I should sit back and count the calories and insist on drinking low-fat beverages and definitely not have a second helping...

Bugger that. It's Christmas, as a merry Brummie once yelled into a microphone. The season of goodwill, merriement, and overeating. My plan is to enjoy myself, as you should, too. I'll get back to business after the fesitivities are over. But probably not at the gym. January is the worst time to be a member of any gym. I'll be better off sticking to the roads for the first few weeks of 2019.

Until my next update, whenever that is - take care of yourselves. Have a Merry Christmas, one and all.

A traditional Yuletide greeting.

Farting etiquette

I made a deal with myself that I was going to openly and honestly discuss any and all running issues that I encountered while training. Today, I want to address the elephant in the room. I want to talk about the real issue, the one problem that no other running blogger has the guts to address:

Farting while running.

That's what it feels like...

We've all heard the myths and legends about people who do yoga for the first time. These stories all follow the same basic principles - someone attends a class, stretches their body in a new way, and lets rip unexpectedly. This happens because the muscles are stretched and squeezed in ways they haven't been bent before and trapped air is forced to travel through the body. All that air only has one place to escape, leading to classrooms of new yoga students dropping stinky presents every night of the week.

I always thought that story was restricted purely to yoga. Then it started happening to me.

It seems to happen around the same point in my run. By the third or fourth mile, pressure starts to build in my stomach. I can feel it coming from a long way off. After a few moments of discomfort, it finally happens. Every step I take pushes another gust out - and it's never quiet. There is no such thing as a 'silent but deadly' on the road. Everything is loud and proud. It sounds like a bent trumpet playing along in my wake, each step hitting a different note. It feels like an extra boost of speed, a butt-powered wind machine blasting me along the course.

That usually happens fairly early into my run. After that, I get random and unpredictable bursts of bottom-assisted speed boots until the run is over. They tend to strike without warning. Luckily I'm always well past the scene of the crime before anything can happen.

When this happens on the road, it's totally fine. There's usually nobody around, and if there is, I can always keep moving until it's safe to unpack a stinky botty biscuit. When it happens at the gym, however, that's a different story.

What do you do when you're on the treadmill in a crowded room and you feel the familiar clench in the pit of your stomach? You know what's about to happen. You know you're about to unleash an unholy drum solo. There's nothing you can do. You can't even pretend it wasn't you.

The only thing you can do is crank up your music and pray that nobody will hear you shredding the low bass note over their own headphones. If you aren't wearing headphones, try and keep up with the beat of whatever music is currently playing in the gym. And if there's no music... well, you'll have to find a new gym. You can never go back.

This is all well and good in training, but what happens on the day? What if I start farting like a derranged wilderbeast during the marathon? Will everyone else be dropping eggs like I do when we run through London? Will we unleash toxic gasses on the poor spectators around the three to four mile marker, enveloping the crowd in a cloud of brown stink? What happens if I run past a BBC cameraman and the viewers at home hear my bum playing the tuba? Does this happen every year? Is farting while running the unspoken horror of the marathon?


These are the kinds of questions that keep me up late at night.

Running makes my knees weak

I mean that literally. As my distances improve and my core begins to get stronger, I'm finding all new aches and pains breaking out here and there. The latest niggling ache is a dull pain in my knees that usually starts while I'm running and continues for a few hours after I've finished.

Damn, my legs don't look that good.

So what can I do to combat this? Well, firstly I can start by taking extra iron vitamins. I usually take a multivitamin tablet every morning, but it seems that I need to focus on getting some extra iron in my system, too.

In addition to this, there are plenty of knee exercises that can be done to build up the joints. There are plenty of videos on the subject, just like this one:

And there are dozens of blogs and websites with various useful pointers and exercises that I can add to my arsenal, including this rather excellent page on the NHS site with lots of different stretches for runners.

It feels like I'm still learning new information every week about how to train and look after my body. I keep walking on lunch breaks, keep squeezing 10K runs into my days, keep pushing myself further and further, but there's always something else to keep in mind. Just gotta keep telling myself it'll all be worth it next April.

Running is addictive

Small confession: I treated myself to a lazy weekend. The weather wasn't great, but that's no excuse. I took the time off because I wanted to lounge around and get some of my own projects completed. As a matter of fact, I haven't gone for a run since last Thursday, when I squeezed out a quick 10K on the threadmill.

I'm not telling you this because I feel guilty (and I do!) - I'm telling you this because I really want to go for a run. I've got all this energy inside me and nothing to do with it, like a hyperactive child in a toy store. Part of me doesn't care about the weather - Go out and run!, says that little voice in my head. Even if it's raining, I still look out at the streets and wonder if I can squeeze in a quick jog - which, for me, now takes around an hour...

'Hyperactive kid' Google search result. It'll do.

This is a totally insane way of thinking. A few weeks ago, I would have slapped myself for thinking like that. Hell, I still could slap myself sometimes. But I keep telling myself that it's all going to be worth it in the end. I'll do something utterly incredible, something I've never done before, an achievement I'll be dining out on for years and years to come.

I think I'm addicted to running, you know. I crave it. I spend my days looking forward to the next one - rain or shine, gym or outdoors. I plan routes in my head. Today on my lunch break, I went for a walk around the park, remembering how damned good it felt to crack fourteen miles the other week. I can't wait to hit my next target. They say exercise is addictive and I'm starting to see what they mean.

Back in one piece

Monday was an interesting day. Following my lengthy run the previous night, I was in a new world of pain. Firstly, my knees were in agony. It hurt to keep my legs in one place for too long, but it also hurt to move. The only way to cope was to keep bending my legs the entire day and push through.

The second biggest pain was the chafe on my right thigh (mercifully, my nipples were intact). This was horrendous. It was like having a burn mark on my leg, right where my underwear rubs the skin. Every time I walked, my knees popped and my leg chafed. I was moving like a penguin who had just ridden a horse into town.

But the worst part of all this didn't actually hurt at all. The worst part of recovering was the feeling the tendons in my feet shifting under the skin with every step. Move forward, my heels slide and pop. That feeling was utterly disgusting and I never want to experience it again.

Thankfully, my future wife is a dab hand with yoga and suggested a few stretches to alleviate most of the aches and pains in my body. I can't describe what a relief it was to bend and stretch and feel the muscles returning to normal again.

I totally looked like this.

So I've allowed myself three days off from training to recuperate and make sure I'm fighting fit again before I push myself some more. My new goal is twenty miles by mid-February. At my current rate, it's looking good. I'm hoping to get some time off work at the end of March so I can put in one final burst of training and get completely prepared for the big day. I've read a few articles that advise reaching your peak a month before the race and then dialling it back in the weeks prior, to keep plenty of energy bottled up inside, so I'll give this advice a whirl and see what happens. What's the worst that could happen?

136 days to go!

Half a Marathon

Last night, I challenged myself to hit a personal milestone and run half the marathon in practice. I succeeded.

Look at that! Smashed it!

It was a chilly night, but dry enough to give it a go. I only slowed down a couple of times near the end - even kept running every time my headphone cable slipped out of the phone. The satisfaction of hitting this target is indescribable. Never in my wildest dreams did I even hope that I could run this far this fast. The best part is that I managed it in less than two and half hours! You could start watching Captain America: Civil War when I begin running and I'll get back in time to watch Steve and Tony beat the daylights out of each other at the climax. (Note to self: put Marvel movies on your phone and listen to them while running).


I'm paying for it now, though. Despite a wonderful sense of achievement and pride (feelings I don't often experience), my lower half is in agony. My knees ache every time I move. My right thigh is chafing like you wouldn't believe - it actually looks like a burn mark - and my back aches despite the yoga stretches Nikki put me through when I got home.

You know the weirdest part of it all? It was worth it.

Next up: twenty miles. Watch this space.

End of chapter two/ getting back in the game

After a wonderfully refreshing week away from it all, I now need to get back in the game. We achieved all our targets - bought too many Christmas presents, put up the tree, gave notice of marriage at the registry office, and I even managed a couple of good runs. I also learned that the 'emergency stop' button on the treadmill is really freaking easy to accidentally knock so you slam groin-first into the machine at several miles an hour, in front of a room full of witnesses. We live and we learn.


But now it's time to get serious again. With Christmas fast approaching, I need to drop a bit more weight so I can enter the new year at a good size and not have too much to worry about besides training. At the moment, I'm hovering between 180 and 190 pounds. This is lowest I've weighed in about ten years, but it's still not low enough. From all the reading I've been doing, actual professional - and prepared, cough - marathon runners weigh somewhere in the region on 150 pounds. I think my upper body alone weighs that much! So it's time to get my game face on.

It looks a lot like this, actually.

Time to focus. The year is rapidly drawing to a close (I blinked and missed September, what happened there?) and I still have one big target to achieve before then. I want to reach the halfway mark before 2019 dawns. At the moment, my best is still eleven miles. I want to hit thirteen in the next three weeks. It's not going to be easy - as I write this, the clouds outside are gathering  for yet another massive downpour - but it's got to be done. I can't avoid the crap weather if I'm going to go for it. The treadmill only gets me so far (and my groin still hurts).

Three weeks to the end of the year. Three weeks to hit my personal goal.

One hundred and forty two days until the marathon.

Sure thing, Groot.

I get it now

Something strange happened to me last night. Something I've never experienced before. I was walking home from the shop (where I totally did not purchase a pizza and a beer for tea) when two people ran past me in the opposite direction. It was cold and it was dark and it was almost half past seven. The rush hour traffic had moved on. Headlights and tailights glowed in every direction. The world was tinged with the orange hue of streetlights. Dark clouds hung overhead, blotting out the stars and threatening rain.

Kinda like this, but less blurry.

The two runners both both looked pretty damn miserable, like they were trying to get this over with and go back home to be warm. Their cheeks were red. They were breathless, but trying to talk as they ran. Both of them looked like they would have given anything to have traded places with me, to be going home with dinner - which, again, was absolutely not a pizza and a beer.

And you know what? I would have traded with them.

For the first time in my life, I saw someone running in pretty crappy conditions and my first thought was, Damn, that should be me. That's never happened to me before. Even just a month or two ago, I wouldn't have felt that way. But now I get it. Now I understand the drive, the motivation, the desire. My body is bursting with energy. If I don't run - or even make the time for a short workout at home - I can't sleep. I keep glancing at the calendar, watching the date slowly draw closer, knowing the enormity of the challenge that lies ahead. I really want to do this.

It's now almost six pm on a Tuesday evening and I'm glancing out the window to check the weather. It hasn't rained for a while (absolutely hammered down while I was in town earlier with my lady, smashing the Christmas shopping). A little voice in my head is telling me to do it. Go for it. When else are you going to get the chance to train?

If you're out in the cold, dark night and you see people running for fun, don't be too harsh on them. I'm one of them now. I get why they do it.

A week off!

I'm off work all next week, and a bit of the week after. My fiancé is taking the same time off, too. We have plenty of plans. Some fun (dinner dates!), some romantic (giving notice of marriage!), some inevitably tedious (Christmas shopping!). It's going to be a great week.

It gets more accurate every time I look at it.

And with plenty of free time, I'm hoping to get several good runs in during this abscence. A week off from work doesn't mean a week off from training. The best part of having this time will be the luxury of choosing when I get to hit the road/ treadmill. Avoiding the traffic? Yes please! No pedestrians cluttering the pavements and gazing over my shoulder at the bus? Go on then! A slightly warmer temperature for running? If you insist!

I don't know if I'll be updating this blog in that time, but there will definitely be regular updates on my Facebook profile. Ciao for now.

I would rather be in the warm

At seven fifteen this morning, I left the warmth and comfort of my home and set off on a run around the area. Holy hell, it was cold. Ice clung to car windscreens. Patches of frost lay strewn about the pavements. People huddled in bus stops wearing hats and gloves and scarves. The scent of de-icer filled my nostrils. The temperature hovered just below zero degress for the duration of the run.

Pretty good, all things considered.

Luckily, the agonies of being outside wearing skin-tight running gear fade away pretty quickly, once you get started. By the time I reached the bottom of my road, I no longer felt cold. (By the end, I could no longer feel my fingers, but that's about normal for being outdoors in freezing temperatures).

The thing that surprised me the most was how much it hurt to breathe. Inhaling deep gulps of cold air is pretty damn painful. Icy oxygen reaching the insides of warm lungs feels like someone jabbing at your throat from the inside. While this sensation does come to a pass fairly quickly (within the first mile or so), it feels uncomfortable for that length of time. Like, really uncomfortable.

So I finished the run and hopped in the shower and turned the heat up and felt my skin try to tear itself away from my body. Turns out that cold sweat, cold skin and warm water is the exact recipe to cause extreme pain. My chest and stomach turned bright red and it felt like dozens of needles were being driven into my skin over and over, all at the same time. Note to self: have a cold shower first and turn the heat up slowly.

Despite all the discomfort and pain and aches, I now know that it's possible to run in freezing conditions. This is good. I can hold onto this knowledge. My running gear does a damned fine job of keeping me warm in spite of the chill. I know I can do it - and my mileage is better than on the treadmill. If push comes to shove, I'll be out there in the dead of winter, panting and sweating while people watch, clutching mugs of hot chocolate and wondering why the hell anyone would be running in these temperatures.

Effing earphones

I have been through four pairs of earphones since this running adventure began six months ago. Four. Does that seem like a disproportionately high figure? I can't tell. It's not like I'm smashing my ears on the scenery as I run, either. I'm not a total moron... mostly.

Nothing this extreme, annoyingly.

Pair number one was a lovely set of Bluetooth push-in earphones with a small rubber grip to keep them from slipping out while moving. They were comfortable, the battery life was excellent, they were lightweight and never caused me any problems. Until the rubber cable pulled out of the right ear, making them unusable.


Pair number two was the same model, in a different colour. These were fine until sweat managed to get inside the unit and completely destroy the electronics, rendering them entirely useless.


Pair number three was another Bluetooth set I bought with the sweat problem in mind. They were cheap and - to their credit - they are indeed sweat-proof. However, that's the only positives I have to say about this pair. The problems are numerous. For starters, the volume, pause, phone, and skip functions are all on this little bar that hangs down from the right ear about an inch or two.

That's about six or seven inches

This should be fine, in theory, but when you run, this bar starts to swing. Get a good pace going and the control bar constantly slaps you in the chin. It's beyond irritating. The only way to counter this is to tuck the bar into your shirt, but if the wire is stretched, it loses connection and starts jumping through the songs. Plus it likes to randomly disconnect while you're running and if the bar gets caught in the collar of your shirt, the control can buttons can get completely jammed, meaning the volume raises or lowers or the songs start skipping entirely. There is nothing more annoying than having a song jump mid-stride. Plus the battery life is shocking. They need charging after a decent 90 minute run, or they'll cut out next time. This pair lasted only a few runs until the lower volume button got stuck. Thank goodness they were cheap.


The fourth and most recent pair was the wired set that came with my phone. It was fine - light, comfortable, and the control bar didn't move too much. The rubber grips had a tendency to slide out if sweat managed to get into the ear, but that was manageable. This pair broke in the gym last week when the bloody lower volume button got stuck, rendering them bloody useless.


So now I'm running with a very comfortable pair of wired headphones. So far, so good. And better sound, too... for now!

How long until this happens?

Forward always

With visiting family, seeing friends, and trying to sort out a million and one jobs at home this weekend, I barely had any time to squeeze a run into my schedule. Luckily, I managed to eek out a spare hour and run six laps of my home estate.

Seven miles! Not too bad for a lazy Sunday.

I'm getting fairly adept at running these shorter distances, but this is starting to worry me. I'm good at the first seven or eight miles, but after that I begin to struggle. What will happen to me on the day? What if I reach eight miles and still have a further eighteen to run on wobbly legs? What if I put all this time and effort into training and fail to get my body prepared for the epic length of the marathon?


Maybe I'm just worrying unnecessarily. Lots of people have pointed out to me that I don't need to run the entire marathon - walk is totally understandable and probably inevitable. I understand this, I really do. At some point, I'll need to slow down and walk part of the distance.


But I want to run that course as far and as fast as I can. I want to sail through the winding London streets and know that I did it. I did this. I went from couch potato to a marathon runner in less than a year. I can do it. I want to do it, crazy as that sounds. Yeah, I'm worried and nervous and all the rest, but I really want to do this. For me. For my fiancé. For Crisis.

Post-run selfie.

All I need to do is keep going.

How to start running

A couple of people have asked me (in whispered voices from under the shade of dark alleyways, well out of earshot of anyone else) how they could get into running as well. I haven't thought of running as a strange, confusing hobby since first stepping out into the bright May sunshine six months ago, so in this post, I want to talk about how you too can learn to lace up your trainers and start pounding the tarmac - or the treadmill. Where and how you train is up to you!

And you don't have to run alone, either!

It might sound weird, but the best way to get into running is simply to get out there and go. Don't make a big deal out of it - don't tell yourself that you'll start on Monday or something similar, because that will make it 'feel' like a bigger, more daunting task than it really is. Telling yourself you'll do it eventually is one way to ensure that you never get around to it.


An even better way to begin is to talk more short walks in the day. Instead of taking that quick five minute drive to the shops and back, why not walk there instead? You'll get twenty to thirty minutes of good, active movement and slowly build up your body's tolerance for exercise and exertion.


If you have an hour-long lunch break while at work, take a short stroll. I walk two laps of the estate every lunchtime. It's easy, gentle, and helps me to keep working toward my fitness goals (as vague and constantly-shifting as they are...) Plus, if you're one of the many people who wear fitness trackers and always strive to walk ten thousand steps in a day, forty minutes of walking will see you reach at least half of that. You can't lose. Walking is a good way to start. Plus, it'll help your legs prepare for the real exercise later on.


While you don't need any special equipment to start walking (besides something on your feet), you might want to consider investing in some decent shoes if repetitive running is the end goal. I'd recommend a pair of actual running shoes with good, thick soles and plenty of padding in the heel. Yes, they can be a little more expensive than regular trainers, but believe me, your feet will thank you!


Don't rush out and buy loads of expensive gear before you've started running. Start with good footwear and build up from there. You'll figure out what you need and what suits your style of running. I run with a good shirt (to avoid the cursed nipple chafe), loose shorts with zip-up pockets, sweat bands, and a bottle of water. Sometimes I wear a phone strap on my arm, it depends on which pair of earphones I'm wearing. But I assembled all this slowly, over time, after deciding what helped me and what didn't.


In order to begin running, I used a simple phone app, available for free on any phone store, Couch to 5K:

Just search in the store page

I've mentioned this one before a few times (and still haven't received any royalties, hint, hint) but it really is as good and simple as it seems. It's simple to use and user-friendly and definitely helped encourage me to improve my cardio stamina. In just nine weeks, I went from couch potato to running thirty straight minutes. Now I'm running for almost two hours.

If these pointers were useful, please let me know! Running is one of those challenges that seems really daunting, until you give it a try for yourself. After the first week, you'll be amazed at your progress, I promise.

Work on the core!

In addition to the usual running and attempting to train my legs, I'm also working on strengthening my core. This parts isn't too tricky - before picking up running, I had a fairly intense HIIT schedule that revolved around completing one hundred press-ups, squats, dumbbell lifts, etc.


At the moment, my aim is to run 2-3 times a week (as my work pattern allows), and complete a core workout on the alternative days. Weekends off - again, where possible. This is my current core program:

That works up a pretty good sweat. Throw in some dumbbell exercises using my incline bench, and that winds up to a pretty solid fifteen minutes or so. Even this small amount has helped enormously - my core is strong enough to run eleven miles, without leaving that horrible dull ache afterward.


I've now added a new part to the end of my workout:

HOW DO THEY DO IT? My core is pretty good, but I can't stay balanced! Even time my leg comes up, my head goes down. I try to keep pace with the girl in the white top, but I can't. They look majestic and energetic. I probably resemble a beached whale being electrocuted.

One less hero

Almost everyone who knows me knows that I am a massive nerd. I'm writing this at my desk, beneath a huge portrait of several iconic Marvel Comics characters. On my left is a Captain America mask. On the wall behind me is the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe collection on blu-ray, arranged in my preferred viewing order. To my right is large, loud, moving action figure of Rocket Raccoon who fires his blaster rifle when you flip the switch. Yeah, I'm a massive nerd and I love it. Some people ask me how I can still enjoy comics and superhero movies in my thirties. The answer to that question is this guy right here:

December 28, 1922 - November 12, 2018

Stan Lee. Even if you don't know who he is or what he did, you recognise his face. He's appeared in almost every Marvel movie and TV show in some capacity, and the audience always reacts loudest to him. Hell, his cameos are sometimes better than the rest of the movie (see The Amazing Spider-Man) and his positive, infectious charm and energy always radiate off the screen.

But today, Stan Lee has died. This man had a huge hand in revolutionising the entire comic book industry - a movement that is just now reaching the movie industry, too. He created, co-created, or had a direct hand in influencing scores of characters known and beloved around the world. Spider-Man. The Fantastic Four. The Incredible Hulk. The X-Men. Literally dozens of characters both big and small, well-known and not so popular. He invested them with charm, personality and humanity.

I'm not usually the type to care about the passing of somebody famous, but Stan's work had a genuine impact on my life. He made me believe in heroes. Not superheroes, but heroes.

The reason I've always preferred Marvel to DC is because Stan Lee chose to set his comics in the real world. While DC's characters inhabited fictional settings (Metropolis, Gotham, Bludhaven, Star City, etc.), Marvel heroes lived in real locations. Spider-Man slung his webs in New York. The X-Men battled Magneto on the White House lawn. Luke Cage defended Harlem. The characters existed in a recognisable and believable world - our world. But they had one thing that the rest of us didn't:

Courage.

Peter Parker isn't Spider-Man because of his superpowers. Peter Parker is Spider-Man because he chose to use those powers to make a difference. Reed Richards chose to use his unwanted abilities to make the world a better place. The X-Men swore to defend the human race, even though they were hated and feared by almost everyone they saved. But they persevered. All of them. They fought on because it was the right thing to do, no matter how hard or impossible it seemed.

I would not be doing this without Stan Lee's influence in my life. I would never consider running a marathon - far less to run it for charity - without Stan Lee showing me that people like that do exist. People who do impossible things every day. People who give their all for the sake of helping others. People who push themselves to the limit to change the world.

I'm not comparing myself to the characters he created (I'm not selfless, heroic, courageous or brave in any sense), but I try to emulate the examples he laid out. I try to be better because it's possible. I've seen it. I believe in it.

You know what shirt I wore to the gym a few days ago? It was this one:

No walls were crawled in the making of this picture.

I wore it because I needed to feel more encouragement. I needed some extra strength to face the treadmill and do what had to be done. I couldn't face it alone, so I wore the emblem of the bravest character who ever existed in all of fiction. Stan Lee taught me that heroes do exist. And their real superpower is inspiring others.

The greatest sentence in comic book history.

Excelsior. Thank you, Stan.

Pain and pushing through

Eleven miles is a long damned way to run and my body - wobbly bits and all - is not equipped to handle that kind of distance. But I persevered with my run last Saturday and hit a new personal best. I wanted to see if it was possible to go further than my previous best of ten miles, and I'm delighted with the result.

Eleven laps on the inside circuit - half a marathon in two hours is within reach!

The further I run, the more new pains and aches my body starts to experience. These aren't the usual muscular aches, like back when I first started and my legs protested at being used so vigorously. These are uncomfortable new irritations and agonies I've never experienced before. For instance, after around four miles my feet start to tingle. It feels like pins and needles in the soles of my feet. This sensation doesn't travel any higher than my ankles, and fades away after the fifth mile or so - thankfully! - but it's really distracting while it lasts. Maybe I need better footwear.


After that, there's pain in the lungs from trying to take even, deep, steady breaths under such strenuous circumstances. Breathing, I've learned, is the key to almost every exercise and controlling your lungs is a vital part of running long distance. You don't want to start gasping or hyperventilating. Bad enough you hear yourself wheezing like a squashed otter in the silence between songs, no need to make that awkwardness any worse.


And don't forget about losing all sensation in your fingertips! At the beginning of the run, my hands were too hot. I cussed myself for not wearing the fingerless gloves instead, but persevered anyway. After the hallway point, I lost most of the feeling in my fingers. By the end, it hurt to unclench my fists. And my fingers were freezing. Still not sure what the cause was - the falling temperature; the wind resistance; or aliens.

Any excuse to post this image.

Surprisingly, I don't get pain in the one place you might expect me to feel it. My leg muscles were actually fine. Once you're going and locked into a good pace, it's really hard to stop. Your legs keep moving almost on their own accord. I let myself slow to a fast walk around three or four times while running those laps. It didn't seem to have any negative impacts on me (apart from protests in my thigh muscles when trying to get started again).


The thing that shocked me was the way my body trembled all over once I had finished. After I had stretched and had a protein shake and the adrenaline had worn off, my entire body started to shake and tremble uncontrollably. It was like climbing out of an icy lake and standing on the shore in a freezing wind. My fingers shook. Teeth chattered. It was a bizarre feeling. I wasn't cold, but I couldn't stop. That must be what exhaustion feels like.


The more running I do, the better I feel. It's a strange parallel. When I first started, my legs would barely hold while showering afterward. Now I can run eleven miles, stretch out the cramps, and be surprised by the full-body shuddering I experience later. I'm getting a little better at this, day by day.

All aboard the dreadmill

I've had the chance to log a couple of runs on a treadmill now and I feel there's enough to warrant talking about the major differences between training at the gym and training outside. Plus, I forgot to put up a post yesterday and need to make up for that (sorry). Can't be helped - it was my day off and there was a list of things to do that was longer than my arm. But I managed my first run of the week!


The biggest difference between treadmill and outdoor running is that the treadmill is easier. A lot easier. It moves by itself, unlike the road, keeping you at a pretty consistent pace. In order to simulate the road a little better, I set the incline up a notch or two, just to add more difficulty.


Another thing I've noticed is that it's a hell of a lot warmer in the gym. Outside, in the current weather, I'm able to hit double figures on a single water bottle. In the gym, I'm dripping with sweat like it's the middle of summer all over again. There's a fan on the machine designed to blow cold air into your face, but it only aims as high as your chest and is about as powerful as someone huffing vaguely toward you.


I've spoken about this before, but it's still true - running on a treadmill is so bloody boring compared to being out on the road. Staring at a wall is the most mind-numbing activity imaginable. Your brain wanders all over the place and you end up not really concentrating on what you're doing - not in the good way, either. How many times have I almost tripped over my own feet on the treadmill? Too many damn times. Sure, there are a few TVs playing music videos, but the songs are atrocious (modern pop/ dance anyone? Anyone?) and I'm fairly certain the music playing over the speakers is entirely different to the one displayed onscreen.

Almost seven miles in just over an hours is still pretty good, right?

And the thing I hate the most about the treadmill is that you can only run for one freaking hour at a time. After that, you get a five minute 'cool down', before the machine turns itself off for thirty seconds. This is so bloody irritating. It totally throws me off my stride - figuratively and literally. After you've been brought to a screeching halt, it's so difficult to get going again and build that precious pace back up. The challenge then becomes trying to get as much distance behind you as possible within this absurd sixty five minute window. Not ideal for training.


Imagine that happening with any other piece of equipment in the gym. The dumbbells suddenly become lighter than air after ten reps. The squat bench folds up when you've 'done enough'. The personal trainers prevent you from doing any more press-ups. Whoa, there buddy! That's plenty for today, doncha think? Imagine running the marathon and buggering off after an hour because that's all you were allowed to train. Yes, I know you can start the machine up again, but after you come to a halt, there's no drive to start to back up again. It's not like coming to a halt at the road to let a car through, it's an end to the session.


It's not all bad, though. There is one thing the treadmill does really well - even better than running outdoors. Pace. On a treadmill, you set the speed and try to keep up. You can't do this on your own. Once you start to flag and slow down, that's it, you're done. It's really hard to claw that time and pace and energy back. On a treadmill, there's no choice. You keep going (well, you can lower the speed, but there's always a voice in the back of your head telling that only a wimp would do that).


Despite all these differences, there are a lot of similarities between indoor and outdoor training. You're still running. Still improving. Still using the same muscle groups. Still driving yourself onward. At the end of the day, as long as I'm running, I'm happy.