Five hours, sixteen minutes, thirteen seconds (part one)

I wake after a strained night of sleep at around half five. Toss and turn for a while. Eventually give up at seven, earlier than I wanted to wake. There's another guy in my dorm room running the Marathon, too. He's ready to go. I give him a thumbs-up as he heads out the door and start getting ready in the darkness.

The hostel is buzzing with activity. Many people are staying here for the Marathon. I see smiling faces and excitement. I'm the only one who looks like a man approaching the gallows. I take time getting ready - kit on, tracking tag in place, vaseline applied - and eat a bagel in the bar. Comments and good luck messages pour into my texts and social media. People want me to do well. I want me to do well, too. I listen to music and start getting pumped. Then I leave and follow the steady stream of people flooding the streets, heading toward Greenwich Park.

Even an idiot like me could find the right way.

Thousands of people flow into the park. Runners, supporters, and spectators alike. Tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds. The atmosphere is good. Positive. People are excited. My nerves begin to melt away. I call my nan to let her know I'm in the right place and things are going well. She promises to look out for me on TV.

So many people. All here for one reason.

After about ten minutes, we reach the race entrance. Runners only beyond this point. We are separated into areas based on the colour of our numbers - red, green, and blue. I follow people into the red zone, the main staging area for my group.

The organisers did an amazing job with this logistical nightmare.

The start zone feels like a carnival, minus the rides. There's a guy on a microphone somewhere, playing music and whipping the crowds into excitement. Giant screens show live footage from each staging area. People stand around laughing, joking, taking photos of themselves with runners in elaborate or amusing costumes. The atmosphere is amazing. I head over to the baggage trucks and drop off my kit. The baggage lady takes a photo for me.

Someone said that I look like Mario. Didn't see it until now. It's-a me.

There's a lot of standing around and waiting. The queue for the toilets stretches across the length of the entire area. There are several urinals in constant use. Overall, the atmosphere is positive, excited, fraught with nervous energy. I watch all the people around me and soak in the sights and sounds. As the speaker advised on Friday, I have not worn my headphones today. They're in the kitbag, on the lorry.

It's a cold, cold start to the day. The sun peeps through the thick, dark clouds every now and then, basking us all in bright, happy warmth. But these moments are few and far between. I start to shiver. Maybe I should have worn more layers. I could have worn my long-sleeved shirt, or my tights. But it's too late now. Those things are at home, miles away. I suck it up and suffer in silence.

It's a busy place, but a good one.

The giant screen displays the BBC footage from the start line. Andy Murray presses the button and a cheer goes up. The athletes have begun, Mo Farah among them. The 2019 London Marathon has started. Next, it's our turn.

The mass start is staggered in ten minute intervals, based on your own predicted finishing times, I said six hours, so I'm in zone seven, the last group to start. Zone one starts ten minutes after the elites, then zone two, etc. At ten fifteen, I head through the gate to zone seven and we wait our turn to start. I watch zone six walk past toward the start line. Nerves begin to rear up again. Am I ready? Can I do this? Everyone around is full of energy and looking good, ready, prepared. I feel like the odd one out.

Heading through the gate to zone seven.

I'll talk more about the costumes I saw later, but for now, take a look at the above picture. There is a guy in our group running dressed as Jesus. Not in a jokey Monthy Python way. He has a giant cross made of wood. It's hollow, but made of bloody wood. He wears a ring of leaves around his head and a white loincloth. On the back of the cross is a message about the recent terrorist attacks in Sri Lanka and a prayer of world peace. To top it all off, the man is barefoot. I hope he finished. Overtook him in the first mile and never saw him again.

Zone six clears through the barriers and my group begins moving forward. Excitement ripples through the air. People are laughing and joking, talking about the costumes they can see. I get chatting to a guy wearing a massive backpack displaying the list of challenges he's completing as part of the marathon. He spent three days running over fifty miles from Bedford to London to collect his number at the expo. Now he's running the marathon. In July, he complete the SAS-level Fan Dance, fifteen miles over mountainous terrain. All of this while wearing an army-regulation backpack. He asks me how much I've done before this.

'This is my first time,' I say.

'First marathon?'

'No, first running event.'

'We all start somewhere!' he says. I feel better about myself already.

Backpack guy - a hell of an athlete.

We're off the grass and on the road now, slowly heading up toward the main gate of Greenwich Park. The start line is less than a hundred metres away, but around a corner and out of sight. Spectators line the park on my right, waving us on through the fence. People strip off hoodies and long trousers now, tossing them to the left and the right. These will be collected and donated to charity later. The atmosphere is electric. TV cameras are stationed up ahead. Nobody knows if we're live, but everyone waves in the hope that we are.

Pace markers. Professional marathon runners and decent people.

Professional marathon runners carrying flags marking their projected completion time are scattered throughout the zone, in roughly fifteen minute intervals. I happen to be behind the six hour guys - and make a mental note to get in front of them as soon as possible. They're hilarious, warming us up nicely and dispensing advice. The best thing I hear from them - which sticks in my mind for the duration - is not to high-five everyone who offers. You'll injury your arm. I slap hands with a few young children (and a brigade of cheering police officers near Tower Bridge), but otherwise stick to the middle of the road. Backpack guy says this is a good idea, too.

The start line. Dark clouds above, but bright smiles all around.

Then we're through the gates. One sharp left turn and suddenly the start line is up ahead. The crowd begins to thin out. Cheers go up. The race is on. I cross the start line and begin my marathon. I'm doing it. I'm really doing it. I feel nothing but excitement and relief. It's on.

A handful of spectators are at the side of the road, standing in the field. They cheer and clap as though we're professional athletes. It feels incredible. I'm already glad I decided against headphones.

Within the first mile, I pass a familiar face. My old university friend, Colin. He's here cheering on his sister-in-law. He says, 'Keep going, it's that way.' Thanks mate.

We enter a residential area. It's all houses and shops here, but spectators are out in force. Some stand on the pavements, others hang out the windows of their flat. Some sit in fold-up chairs in the front garden, some sit on bus stops. They all clap and cheer. Children hold their hands out for high-fives. Music blares from pubs, from speakers, from people playing instruments in the street. If the staging area was a carnival, this is a full-blown party.

We're still in the first mile, gathered together pretty closely and passing through residential areas.

Most of the marathon is pretty flat, but this first area has a single long hill, followed by a lengthy slope. My training around the hilly parts of Bristol comes into play and powers me past several people here. Once we hit the downhill section, I hear a cry behind me - 'Watch out!' It's a wheelchair racer, gaining speed. He gets things under control again as the road evens out.

The downhill section. Runners clogging the street. A man carrying a Spider-Man dummy on the left, there. He moved at a good pace. I got in front, but he overtook me again later and disappeared into the distance.

We hit the first water station. Refreshments are available in some form at almost every mile - water, Lucozade, even jelly beans. From this point on, the sides of the road are littered with thousands of bottles. Some runners squeeze out a quick gulp and toss the bottle away. I kept hold of mine. Can't be too careful with hydration. Little and often, that's the way.

Thousands of volunteers had the sole task of gathering these together, squeezing them dry, and dumping each one for recycling. A thankless job, so I'll say a massive THANK YOU to them. Amazing people.

By this time, we're about three miles in. Everyone's looking good and the atmosphere is relaxed. The crowds are good. We take a hard left turn and are joined by the other runners from the blue and green start zones. This is it now, everyone is together in one enormous, fast-moving mass. I call my nan again to let her know I'm on the road. She sounds excited.

Four down. Twenty two to go.

The roads get wider and the scenery starts to look a little more London-esque. Still residential, but distinctly London. There are spectators cheering us all on everywhere I look. I can't stop smiling.

Five miles deep. Still fresh. Still feeling good.

For the moment, the roads are pretty long and straight. A couple of gentle turns, but nothing especially awkward. Later there are some weird bends and turns, but for now it's all smooth. Everyone is doing well. Paces are slowly starting to become set. Some people enter their own little cool down cycles. I obey the rules I set myself weeks ago - run five, walk one. It takes me about a quarter of a mile to actually slow down, though. With all the people cheering, it's almost as hard to slow down as it is to keep going in the later stages.

Now we begin to enter the more well-known parts of London. I spot the familiar signs of sails ahead. We're nearing the first major landmark on our whirlwind tour of the city, the Cutty Sark. Never seen it in person. Now I have. It's a big ol' ship. The crowds now deepen. Before, they were spread out fairly evenly. Now people are two or three deep, nestled in shoulder-to-shoulder. They applaud and cheer and ring bells and let off klaxons and scream individual names. I see so many signs I can't read them all.

The Cutty Sark. We loop around it and head northwest to the Thames.

Along the way, I see various people in amazing costumes, and even a few runners attempting certified world records. I see a man in a giant foam shoe. Several people in dinosaur costumes. A man singing karaoke. The rhino runners. Big Pink Dress. A bloke running as Big Bird (shoes and all). The guy from an earlier photo, carrying Spider-Man on his back. A chap running dressed as Elsa. I draw alongside this last man and ask, 'How did you train in the outfit?'

'I didn't,' he says, and laughs.

Karaoke guy. Jogging, singing, and breathing. A man of many talents.

One of the rhino runners. Amazing people. Utterly inspirational. Everyone cheers them on as we overtake them.

Big Pink Dress man in the flesh! Not a pink dress this year, but it was great to meet a legend. He posed for pictures with everyone, all while keeping up his pace.

The first world record attempt I encountered. A man running the marathon in freaking ski boots. Must have ankles of iron.

Another world record attempt. Six people in one team. If you think running it solo is tough, imagine this!

The last record attempt I saw, the world's fastest jukebox. Massive costume, blaring music the whole way along the course. Brilliant and hilarious. Probably not for the guy inside, though.

We head in a horseshoe around Rotherhithe. We've been running for about an hour and a half now, but the atmosphere is still good. Relaxed, happy. Everyone is all smiles. That will change over the next few hours. But this is what we've trained for.

'Smile and wave, boys.' I pump my fist in time to the fantastic street musicians. Great people, all of them.

Everyone has friends and family in the crowd to cheer them on. Some held up signs, or screamed like maniacs. Seeing people break away to greet their supporters is almost as uplifting as meeting your own fans. These fine folks came all the way to cheer me on:

My family! They rushed around from point to point and managed to see me four times on the way. It was amazing to see familiar faces on the way and get much-needed hugs.

I meet them for the first time on mile 8. Stop for a quick hug and a greet. Tell them I'm doing fine and pose for pictures. It's all fun and games. All good.

A photo of yours truly. This is what the spectators see. Lucky them.

We wind through Rotherhithe, still heading northwest toward Tower Bridge, entering another residential part of London. This is the last time we'll see houses and homes on the route. People line the streets. I see cake stands, barbeques, parties. People spill out of pubs. Spectators offer sweets, bananas, orange slices. Others offer sips of beer. Their faces are hilarious when people grab the pints and keep running. Don't offer if you don't want to share!

Sixteen to go.

The scenery is good, despite the overhead clouds. In some ways, it's a blessing. Nobody is overheating today. The wind will get colder later on and most of us will try to dodge the sprinklers set up on the roadsides, but for now it's quite pleasant. I'm not overly sweaty or having trouble monitoring my water intake like I do in extreme heat. This is probably perfect running weather. I'm glad I chose this outfit for today!

Toilets are stationed roughly every mile or so. I stop briefly once about twelve miles in. Note the girl on the left offering Haribo. Lots of people offer sweets to the runners. Lots of runners gratefully accept, myself included.

There must be somewhere between forty and fifty thousand people running the marathon today. I am somewhere in the second half of that number at the moment. All I can in both directions are hundreds of runners. Everyone bears the logo of a charity. Everyone is here for a reason. Everyone has determination on their faces. I still maintain my five-one rule, walking mile eleven to twelve.

Behind me, in front of me, all around me. You can't stop. Nobody wants to stop.

Twelve miles deep and we're back in the midst of central London. Tower blocks and bustle. Crowds thicken every few hundred metres. The noise gets louder and louder. People pick out my name and shout at me - 'Go on, Adam!', 'You can do it, Adam!' The feeling is indescribable. When you slow down, they cheer you more. I've been told that people like to cheer those who look like they need support. This explains why I hear my name called so often in the latter stages of the race. I must look like a sweaty zombie by that time.

Now we're nearing two more major landmarks. First is Tower Bridge, our path across the Thames to the other side of London. Right after this - after a sharp right hand turn along the cobbled streets - is the halfway mark. Thirteen point one miles are behind me now. I am offically halfway through the London Marathon. Before the race, I had expected to feel a tinge of dread at this point, with so much left to do, but instead I'm excited. With so many people around, it's impossible to feel less than ecstatic. I'm not wearing headphones, so the tracking app can't relay my time, but later it transpires that two hours and twenty eight minutes have passed by this time.

Tower Bridge. People clog the pavements thicker than ever at this point.

Our Hero and the halfway marker. The first half is done, but there's a long, long way to go yet.

Now I realise that my phone battery has taken an absolute pounding due to the sheer amount of messages I'm getting from everyone watching and tracking me on the app. I have to stop taking so many photos and videos if I want to record myself at the finish. This ends up being the right choice - my video across the line is filmed with less than five percent battery.

This stretch of the course has two parts. We're heading east along the Thames, to Carany Wharf. On the other side of the road, people are running west, toward Tower Hill and the finish line. I try to take a guess at how long it will be before I'm there. I suggest an hour. This estimate is way, way off. It's actually closer to two hours.

Somehow I hear my name over all the din of cheering spectators. I turn to see my friends on the other side of the road. I pose for photos and keep moving. They'll see me later, but I'll be in a very different mental state by then. Right now, I still have my wits about me.

One for my fans.

At this time, I'm still in good shape. Breathing well. Plenty of fluids. No aches or pains. I haven't hit the wall. But that's about to change. Things are going to get much, much harder.

I have reached the limit for posting. The second half will come later.

Judgement Day

It's finally here. The day I've both longed for and dreaded every moment for the last seven months. It doesn't feel real. I'm sitting on another coach to London with my marathon-approved kit bag between my feet. This bag is heavy. I've probably overpacked, but what do you take to a marathon? I have my kit for tomorrow. My tracking tag. Running shirt. Protein. Water. Bagels for breakfast. Pasta for tonight. My instruction booklet. Coach tickets. Hostel confirmation. Is it enough? Is it too much? Have I forgotten anything? I'm driving myself crazy with doubts and worries.

But I'm putting on a brave face, like this guy.

I spent the day trying not to think about anything. Went to see Avengers: Endgame with my fiance and a mate. Then the movie ended and all the worries came rushing back. Have I done enough? Should I have pushed harder? Have I eaten right? Will I be able to do this?

I know it's pointless to worry and I'm trying to focus on all the advice I received at the expo yesterday. It's my first marathon, relax! Enjoy it! Revel in the atmosphere and enjoy the feeling of a thousand people screaming my name!

Part of my worry is the sheer logistics of it. As stupid and arrogant as it sounds, I have never really sat down and thought about what I'm going to be achieving tomorrow. Lots of people have told me that I'm brave/ crazy/ both, but I've never really felt like either. I signed up to fulfil a personal dream and keep my fitness going. Never once did I stop to actually think about anything except the finish line. All I've been focusing on is the end, not the journey. I'm going to see the Cutty Sark. The Thames. Canary Wharf. Lizzie's Place.

'Keep running, peasant'

Deep down, I know I've done everything I can to prepare physically. Mentally is another story. Can you mentally prepare for a marathon? Or do you just have to run it? My guess is the second one. I know how challenging it can be to keep pushing yourself, to keep going when all you want to do is rip off your legs and throw them in the bin. I've never run with anyone else, or had people watch me go. That's going to be a strange new experience. But an exciting one!

It's been one hell of a journey to get to this place right now. To be here, calling myself a marathon runner. All the work I've put in. The sweat. The tears. The times I asked if it was even possible to do this. I set my targets and I reached them. Most people don't start training seriously until after Christmas, but I was working my arse off back in October to be ready for this point. I remember how good it felt to run six miles. Nine miles. Ten. Thirteen. Fifteen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. I taught myself how to run, then how to run long distances. I did this. I earned it.

The whole time, I've tried not to let any of this go to my head or to get cocky about anything.  But tomorrow morning, when I stand in Greenwich Park with tens of thousands of other people and start walking to the beginning of the 2019 London Marathon, I'll allow myself to smile with pride. I made it. I did it. I earned it.

So this is the end of my journey. This time last year, I was overweight, unmotivated, unable to achieve anything meaningful. Now I'm a marathon runner.

Tonight I will try to sleep. Tomorrow I will go out there and have the best day of my life. Come rain or shine, hell or high water. I'm finishing what I started seven long months ago. And after that... Who knows? The world is my oyster. Maybe I'll take up some of those offers I got yesterday and go see what the Frankfurt marathon is like. Or Valencia. Or Norway. I can do it. I can do anything I choose.

Thanks for reading my strange blog and coming on this ride with me. I'll try to tell you what it was like early next week. In 24 hours time, this will all be in the past.

Seven months. One day. Twenty six miles. Bring it on. I'm ready.

One last job

Less than 48 hours to go now. I've had a full and busy Friday and I'm writing this on my phone while riding the coach home through London rush hour traffic.

Something that I didn't know until about a month ago: your running pack does not get sent via post. Instead, all runners are required to make a trip to London in the days prior to the Marathon to collect the gear and enjoy an entire expo dedicated to the event. While it initially seemed like a pain in the bum to make two separate trips to London, in truth this ended up being a really great day and I'm glad to have made the journey (if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to run on Sunday...)

What greeted me at ExCel station...

The expo was great, if I'm honest. I was expecting to grab my kit and leave, but the atmosphere made it worth sticking around longer and exploring the various stalls and stages on offer. Most of it was based around sports clothing companies trying to sell stuff, along with protein/ sports bar manufacturers flogging their wares. But what made it great was the palpable sense of excitement in the air. Everyone was excited about the Marathon and the air was filled with the constant sounds of encouragement and well-wishing. Every time I said it was my first event, people would tell me how great it was going to be and not to worry about anything. That's the main thing I'm taking away from this: have fun on the day. Don't worry about anything except finishing.

Have you seen this man? Last spotted running very slowly through London.

I collected my number and finally got my start time. I will be in red zone, group seven, meaning that I will be in the last group of starters, setting off around 11am. This is a time based off my own predictions several months ago when filling out the original paperwork. I'm still aiming to complete the Marathon in less than six hours, though I reckon it will probably be closer to five. That's quicker than watching Infinity War and Endgame back-to-back!

Plenty of speakers took to the stage to assuage our worries.

The most beneficial part (for me at least) was listening to the speakers on stage giving out tricks and tips. This first chap explained how the day will unfold. There could be up to twenty minutes between my 'start time' and actually crossing the beginging marker, so dont get frustrated. The tag will only track me from post to post, so my time will be fairly accurate. Also, the times displayed around the track will begin when Andy Murray presses the buzzer to open the day, so ignore them.

A trip to head office!

After that, I dashed back through the city to Warwick Street for a special Marathon-friendly lunch at my company's head office. I got to meet the people behind the scenes who have been arranging this incredible experience for me (and may I say that you're all lovely people! Thanks for supporting and I'm really grateful that you're reading this blog, too!) There are about nine of us taking part in the Marathon this year, all with different levels of fitness and personal goals in mind. About half of us are newbies, while some have done some marathons before, but not this one. In fact, there's one chap who has run six marathons and is a few minutes off the professional athlete completion time. I asked, but he won't wear my tracker while I go to the pub. Spoil sport.

The Mall: my destiny

After that delicious, carb-heavy lunch, I had enough time to head across town and check out the finish line. The Mall is currently a work in progress. Fences are stacked in piles, while scaffolding, signage, and broadcast dishes are being erected all over the place. Horse Guards Parade, the staged meeting area, is under construction, but there are already massive spectator seating podiums set up in a loose L-shape, ready for the day. That's where I shall meet all the incredible people making the long journey to London to cheer me on. I don't know if I'll get a chance to see them while I'm running.

And that's that. Now I'm on the coach, trying to absorb everything and formulate a plan for the day. I still intend to run five and walk one. That seems to work for me. I have no shame or worries about setting a good time. I just want to enjoy the day. In fact, I'm not going to wear headphones on the day. I thought I would (and have been training religiously to Iron Maiden) but there are going to be thousands of people cheering my name on Sunday. I'll never get the chance to hear that again.

So here we go. I'm done. I'm ready. Nothing left to do but wait. One more coach ride. Two more sleeps. Then it begins. Can't wait.

Tick-tock

It is Tuesday 23rd April. The 2019 London Marathon is just over four days away. It's squeaky bum time.

#nospoilers

I'm starting to feel the nerves and the pressure. Not just about the marathon itself - I feel strangely calm about that, I know running twenty miles is possible - but more about the day itself. I've booked a bed in a hostel a short walk from the start line. Still yet to book the coach down to London or the ride home. I think there are a few people meeting me in London on the day - my fiancé, my mum, dad, brother, brother's girlfriend, aunt, uncle, and cousin, plus our friends - maybe up to six extra people! If that doesn't give me a reason to run, nothing will.

This coming weekend is going to be pretty busy. Got a lot lined up. Firstly, I need to go to London on Friday and collect my running pack from the Marathon Expo and have lunch at my company's head office (mmm, yummy carbs! Can't wait!) On Saturday, I've got a date with destiny -

Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives, all the same.

-and then I need to head back into London and try to sleep in the hostel, if I can. Sunday... well, I'm trying not to think about Sunday too much.

My head is a whirl of things still to sort out and stuff to arrange. I get to bring a bag to the start line, so I need to prepare some kit for the night. What will I need after the run? Where will I meet everyone? How will I get home? (The answer to that last query is, 'carried on a golden throne', obviously).

Here I stand. Four days away from the end. This time next week, it will all be a memory. But what a memory it will be.

Let's talk about food

I've been putting off writing this entry for a while as I don't really feel qualified enough to talk about it, but now we're six days away from the Marathon, it's probably a good time to discuss my diet. Most of the information I've been following was the result of internet research and making sure many different sources agree on the same thing. It's difficult to know what to believe, especially on the internet!

Mo' money, mo' problems - Ghandi

Firstly, and most important, what to eat after a run. Don't worry about eating before - not when you're just getting started - but instead focus on trying to repair your body's damaged muscles and recover lost energy. The best thing to eat for any kind of recovery is PROTEIN. You'll see big, muscular people in the gym endlessly drinking protein shakes, and that's for a good reason - protein is essential to helping muscles repair and recover, helping them grow stronger for next time. There are dozens of different ways to get protein into your diet including, but not limited to:

-eggs
-chicken breast
-Greek yoghurt
-milk
-broccoli
-beef (the leaner, the better)
-tuna
-quinoa
-brussels sprouts
-fish
-turkey breast

Even snacking foods like almonds, pumpkin seeds, and peanuts are high in protein. I personally love beef jerky, which is high in protein and delicious to boot. After a run, I like to enjoy a protein shake and a protein bar to get the right nutrients back into my system and begin the recovery process for the next run. I should warn you that protein has a very particular taste that takes a while to tolerate. The first time you eat a protein bar, it will feel like chewing a bit of old tyre.

UNLEASH THE PROTEIN

Full of sugar, but also protein.

There are dozens of different protein supplements that can increase the amount you take into your body. In addition to the shakes, I also have this special powder for making pancakes.

I only trust food presented by an anthopromorphic moose who could crush my skull with a single flex.

Once you start going for longer and longer distances, you can begin planning a light snack before a run. This is a totally different requirement - the aim is to give your muscles as much stored fuel as possible, in the form of carbohydrates. This will prevent those ungoldy aches and pains as every last bit of energy is burned from storage. If you're running up to 10K (roughly six miles), you won't need to partake in carb loading, as you're not likely to use up all the stored energy in your system. Any further than that, however, and you'll definitely need to consider advanced preparation. There are a lot of great foods that will help pile on those desperately-needed carbs:

-pasta
-rice
-oats
-bread
-potatoes

When planning a long run, I like to eat a plain bagel or two around an hour before setting off. This a great last-minute snack that provides additional fuel.

Can't go wrong with a bagel.

This is all for before and after a run, but what about during? What happens when you start to flag? I carry several energy gels with me during a lengthy run and try to have one roughly every hour or so (on my cooldown/ recovery lap). These little beauties are full of slow-release glucose and additional carbs that provide a sorely-needed extra burst of energy on the day, without leaving you feeling full and bloated.

These things are lifesavers!

After a run, I recommend getting some energy back as quickly as possible. Lying down on the sofa will only make it worse when you need to move again later. I like to drink a special mixture of amino acids that disolve in water. This big tub was purchased on Amazon and has lasted for several months now:

One scoop in a glass of water and you'll have enough energy to get through the day!

So that's what to eat. How about what not to eat? This advice is a lot smaller and simpler. Avoid greasy foods before a run - not only is it heavy and will leave you feeling lethargic, but it will give you stomach troubles pretty quickly. Take it from me - you don't want to have to ditch the run because you need the toilet. It's not pretty and it's not fun!

Other than that, avoid hot or spicy foods. I love meals with a bit of kick, but I know that they'll only cause me agony as everything jolts and sloshes in my gut.

And that's it! I've been avoiding this subject for a while because I'm not a nutritionist or a trainer. I strongly advise researching this stuff yourself instead of taking anything I say for granted, but if it helps someone out there, then great!

The final countdown

It's less than sixteen days until the 2019 London Marathon begins, so how am I feeling about it? Honestly, I just want to get out there and start running. I've got a serious case of itchy feet. After the last seven months of constant worry and stress and hard, hard, hard training, I know for certain that I can reach twenty miles in a decent time and with enough energy remaining for the final push. All I want to do is get on with it now.

Seven months have flown by, but these final weeks are dragging their heels...

At the time of writing, I have begun to taper my runs and steadily ease back on the distances. I never managed to reach 20 miles a second time, much to my disappointment, but this past Monday I ran a fairly respectable fifteen in around three hours. Still experimenting with my pace, but five miles running and one mile walking seems to be doing the trick.

Good (or at least dry) weather also helps.

I'm finding a strange new problem when running for these distances now. I eat a dry bagel about an hour before heading out (as I read was the best thing to do), but damn does my stomach rumble after about two and a half hours. It's fine on these practice runs - there's a bakery on my road currently offering pasties for £1.50 - but what will I do on the day? Will being hungry make me run faster? I have no idea! Hope I run past a bakery on the day, though. Nothing nicer than eating a pasty while walking in the sun.


Keeping this blog going has really helped me manage my thoughts. It's been really useful to catalogue and chronicle my progress, to keep it all in one place. Even though I haven't kept it as updated as I'd like - mostly due to my own desire to keep every post interesting and different, instead of endlessly adding 'did a run, went good' - it's been good fun to chart my rise through the ranks. Maybe when it's all said and done, I'll go back through and see how I grew and changed from a casual jogger to a full-blown marathon runner. That feels so weird to type - in sixteen days, I'll proudly be able to call myself a marathon runner. What an achievement that will be.

I cannot wait to stand on the line with thousands of other enthusiasts and newbies and athletes and get the greatest marathon in the world underway.

End of chapter six/ The beginning of the end

Twenty six days remaining. Just over three weeks until the big day. Six months ago, I replied to an email at work, expressing my interest in running the London Marathon. It was a pipe dream, nothing more. A wild fantasy. They'll never pick me, I thought. And why would they? At the time, I was barely able to complete three 10k jogs around the local park every week. Look at me now!

GOAL SMASHED!

Twenty freaking miles, baby. And not a bad time, either. In fact, with this run, I tried to learn how to pace myself. It really did the trick. I ran five miles, then walked the sixth. Alternated like that for a while. Got pretty hungry at the end and grabbed a pasty from the bakery at the bottom of the road. Ate it and walked a few laps. Ran home at the final stretch. Still finished in good time. I'm happy with this. Really, really thrilled with it. I never really believed I could achieve this kind of distance. But here I am!

Maybe it's a bit late in the day to learn how to pace myself, but I've picked up everything else by myself as I went along, so it kind of makes sense. Taught myself how to run. How to breathe. How to conserve water. How to maintain a steady pace. How to keep my stamina up. How to hold my back while running. How to stretch after. What stretches to do. I didn't know any of this before I started. Now I'm running twenty miles on a Thursday afternoon and walking around the flat afterward without screaming in agony. Pacing works!

So it's now April and my intention is to start winding down and tapering my runs. I would like to hit the big 2-0 again, just to prove beyond a doubt that I absolutely can do this, before that happens. Then I will slowly reign myself in. Fifteen miles. Twelve. Six. Right up to the big day. Marathon day.

My journey is almost at an end. A part of me will be sad when this is over - I've looked forward to this for so long. But another part of me just wants to get on with it. I know I can do. All I want to do is get out there and prove it!