Squeaky Bum Time

At the time of writing, it is Friday 14th March 2025. The Bath Half is just two short days away. In fact, this time in 48 hours, I will be running through those familiar streets. I'm excited to get underway and also pretty dang nervous - but not just for the race. There's something looming ahead that's far, far bigger and more daunting than the upcoming half marathon.

There really is no experience like race day.

The 2025 Manchester Marathon is just over six weeks away. This is the last month where I can train to the fullest before it's time to taper off and slowly wind down. I feel ready - or as ready as I'll ever be - for this coming Sunday and the steady 13.1 miles that comes with it. But I am absolutely nowhere near physically primed and pumped for Sunday 27th April.

There have been a lot of frustrations lately. When I signed up for Manchester, my life was in a different state. I worked from home five days a week and had the luxury of closing my laptop and getting straight out on the road for a quick run. It was easy to get to the gym and I could enjoy all the lovely open spaces nearby at my leisure.

But things are different now. I have a new job (a great new job with lovely colleagues), but I'm in the office Monday-Friday. I don't work anywhere near home. If I want to run along familiar roads, I have to drive thirty to forty minutes home (more if the traffic is against me) and then get changed. Sometimes I don't get out there until after five thirty; at that time, the sun is setting and the temperatures are plummeting, as if mocking me for daring to train at this time of year.

Working back in an office also brought an unexpected new dimension to long distance running. I felt guilty about being away from home for so long. It was bad enough leaving the house at seven thirty and returning after five; adding at least another two hours to that, twice a week, was unthinkable. I struggled to find the ideal new balance. If I drove home first, I wouldn't start running for an hour after work. If I ran straight after work, I'd feel bad and miss my wife.

I don't say all this just to gripe and moan. I've always intended for this blog to be an open and honest recollection of my experiences as an amateur runner. With all these huge changes and adjustments, running has taken a backseat to everything else for several weeks.

Just to complicate matters further, I came down with a horrible illness for over two weeks, just when I intended to kick my training into high gear. Instead of reaching goals and smashing distance targets, I was sat on the sofa, struggling to breathe through my face. So now I'm in the final, exhausting crunch period, and I'm pushing myself - hard.

This week, I've managed to cross the ten mile goal twice, setting me in a good position for Sunday. After that, the real challenge begins. I have just two short weeks left to push myself and prepare as best I can. By the end of next week, I need to be back to at least fifteen miles (and just writing that sentence made my stomach turn). By the end of the month, I need to hit twenty miles again. After that, I can slowly ease back, back, back through April.

All my previous worries about finding balance and being away from home don't matter any more. I have six short weeks to get to ready and those weeks are going to fly past before I know it. Now I don't have the luxury of time. I need to be ready and, dammit, I'm going to get there. The road ahead is a long one, but it'll get shorter soon enough.

Until then, I'm going to enjoy a lovely tour of Bath this Sunday. Scott and I are running in support of the Royal United Hospitals and we're smashed our £200 donation target. I'm thrilled to raise so much money for a worthy cause and I can't wait to cross that finish line on Sunday.

After that, the real work begins.