A new world of hurt

Thirty three days to go.

You want to hear something that sounds utterly crazy? I'm pretty comfortable with running thirteen miles now. Not only can I do it without feeling overwhelmed or exhausted after, but I don't experience many lingering pains or discomforts. Sure, there are the usual aches and muscular clenches, but nothing nearly as severe as it was back in December, when I first reached this milestone.

What I've learned now is that my body can tolerate the half-marathon distance fairly well - quite comfortably, even. For me, the real test of stamina and endurance comes into play once I hit the fifteen-mile mark. That's when things change.

Martin Lawrence appears at my side to announce this moment.

Once I hit this figure, my body reaches peak endurance. Everything beyond this becomes a test of sheer willpower. I have to tell myself to keep going, keep going, keep going. Two weeks ago, I reached the amazing new milestone of seventeen miles - the last lap of which saw me practically screaming 'Come on!' at myself over and over to keep going and not give up or falter.

It's not just a mental challenge at that distance, but a physical one, too. At fifteen miles, the pressure that has been steadily building inside my knees reaches critical mass. My calf muscles begin to seize, burn, and throb all at the same time. My lungs begin to ache from the strain of controlling my breathing for almost three hours. My vision starts to blur - colours shift and swim, and I start to see faces in passing trees. It hurts like hell to keep going - but stopping makes it so much worse.

What I wouldn't give for this kind of torment...

If I slow to a walk, everything starts to burn from within. It feels like fire spreading across my legs, knees, ankles, calves, thighs - everything all at once. The only way to make this agony end is to pick up the pace again - but that's nigh-impossible after already running for three-plus hours. It gets worse as the distance increases, until I'm ambling along in this pained forwards-crab-walk, desperately trying to keep moving, wishing the pain was at an end already.

Last week I reached nineteen miles on my run and that damn near finished me off. The pain I described above only gets worse with each mile, steadily doubling until I'm unable to do anything except run and wheeze and scream at the night sky. I felt drunk after that. In fact, I was told that I looked drunk. I came back to work and collapsed on the floor, talking in gasping, broken fragments that might have sounded like English, but probably wasn't.

New personal best. Will I be able to beat it before the big day?

At least I know what to expect on the day. And given that I'm capable of reaching nineteen miles in just over three and a half hours, I can probably afford to slow down a little and postpone this agony as much as possible.

I'm not running for myself anymore

Forty five days to go.

I came to a strange realisation during my run this past Monday: I'm not running for myself anymore. Once upon a time, I would lace up my trainers whenever I felt like it and enjoy a quick thirty minute run-walk-jog around the park at the bottom of my road. Even after finishing the 'Couch to 5K' course, I was mostly running for myself (people told me that I looked slimmer and that was a really nice thing to hear).

Even those small compliments felt like this.

Those days are long gone. Now I lace up my trainers with other things on my mind. I've one goal, one vision, one thought occupying my mind during every minute of every run for the past six months. The London Marathon has clouded all my thoughts. I'm still nervous, still excited, still barely able to believe that I will be tackling the most famous marathon in the world.

I'm not running for myself anymore. Not for my own health or my own pleasure or my own benefit. Now I'm running for a cause. I'm running because there are people relying on me. I'm running for all the people Crisis are going to support with the donations they receive. I'm running because people have sponsored me and believe that I can do this. But most of all, I'm running because I have to. I have to do this. Six months ago, it seemed like a crazy dream. Now I'm just over six weeks away from the biggest, most daunting challenge of my entire life.

Minutes?! Jeez, calm down, Mr. Endurance.

Can I do it? Yes. I believe in myself. In all the training and preparation and reading I've done in anticipation of the big day. All the vegetables and protein shakes and eggs I've consumed, knowing what the effect would be on my body. I'm feeling good about it. There's just the 'small' matter of trying to finally hit the big 2-0 mark before the end of the month. I can do it. I know I can do it.

I know because I have to do it. I'm not running for myself anymore. Every step I take, I can feel the support and energy and willpower of every single person cheering me on. All the donations, all the jokes, all the questions and encouragement and support - I can feel every single one of them flooding my body with every step. It keeps me going. Keeps me focused. Helps me push through the pain and press on, no matter what.

Thanks, guy.

Even when the torrential rains begin at the ten mile mark, I don't quit because I can't. I am committed to this. There are people counting on me and I will not let them down. Crisis. The homeless people they support. Everyone putting in money to show their support. I will not let you down.

Nice.

Thirteen soggy miles

This past Tuesday, I did something I've never done before: went for a run in the pouring rain. It was a strange experience. I've run in cold weather and boiling sunshine and light showers, but never in constant, monotonous rain like that. At first, it was pretty amusing. People gawped at me in cars and chuckled from under their coat hoods as I raced past, ignoring the cold water pelting my face. But it soon began to wear me down.

Two and a half hours in the cold downpour. Not my finest moment.

After the first hour, it stopped feeling so funny. I started to feel cold. I zipped up my light raincoat and kept going. My hood kept blowing off or obstructing my vision, so I ignored it and carried on without. Halfway through the second hour, I had to ease back on the pace more often and that's when I started to feel genuinely miserable for the first time ever. I've never felt that way while running before. Even if I force myself to get out there and go, my spirits have always picked up as the miles begin to tick by. The feeling of unrelenting misery; of running beneath endless dull, grey clouds; of racing through constant, unceasing rain was thoroughly unpleasant. The worst part about this is that the cold and damp seeped into my clothes and left my joints feeling more achy and pained than usual the day after. It seems that wet knees require even more love and attention than usual.

I wanted to try and hit fifteen miles again, or - even better - to reach a new personal best, but the rain and the cold worked together to dampen my mood and totally throw me off my game. At thirteen miles, I called it a day. Hey, at least I know that if it rains on 28th April, I can still run half the marathon.

Like these poor people. I don't know what's more disheartening - running in it, or trying to cheer people on from the side.

In other news, my fundraising has finally crossed the halfway mark! This is utterly incredible! Thank you to everyone who has chipped in so far. We've still got a long way to go, but there's plenty of time.

Look at that! Amazing.

As for me, I'm planning another run today, but those heavy clouds are slowly rolling back into place above me. I'm trying to steel myself for another inevitably damp and disheartening session...

The big push begins

Fifty three days to go. I still want to try and hit the big 2-0 mark before the end of the month - that's my goal. I'm planning to run after work (weather be damned!) and hoping to reach a minimum of thirteen miles tonight, more if I can. It'll be tough if the weather is as poor as the forecast suggests, but I have to do it. What if it rains on the big day? Can't call off the entire marathon because the British summer arrived early.

Pictured: summer in the capital.

My fundraising is going really well, too! I'm so thrilled to have raised just under half of my goal - almost one thousand pounds! Absolutely incredible. A massive, massive, massive THANK YOU to all the wonderfully generous people who have chipped in so far. You're going to make a huge difference in the lives of people who really need our support.

Look at that! We're smashing it!

I've never done anything like this before. Not the run, not the fundraising - none of it. I sometimes throw a bit of change into a charity pot if I can, but that's about it. The was a challenge I set myself - to do something right, to give something back, to try and help people who really, truly need it.

And, of course, I'd be lying if I said that the opportunity to run the biggest and most popular long-distance event in the world had nothing to do with it. I want to push myself to the limit and beyond. Some people ask me why I chose to put myself up for this. The answer is pretty simple. I want to know if I can. I want to see what I can do. The chance to run this event is simply too tempting to ignore.

A lot has changed in my life over the past few months. I wonder where I'll be a short few weeks from now..?

End of chapter five

Fifty-eight days now remain until the 2019 London Marathon. I'm feeling a mixture of emotions as the days slowly melt away. My overall nervousness has been replaced by excitement as reality sets in. This is real. I'm going to do it. I'm really going to stand on the start line alongside thousands of other runners - both experienced and first-timers like me - and tackle the greatest endurance race in the world. It's exciting. It's nerve-wracking. It's overwhelming. One month left to finish my preparations. Can I do this? Will I last the length of the course? Will I be able to reach the finish line?

Will anyone even be able to see me?

All the advice I've read about running long-distance has advised me to 'taper' my runs in the proceeding weeks. Essentially, I will need to reach my limit about four weeks before the race, before gradually easing back on the long-distance runs in the final days. Run fifteen miles one time with three weeks to go. Ten miles with two weeks left. Six miles on the last week, etc. I'm going to give this a go and see how it works. I think the idea is to have loads of energy stored for the big day, while also avoiding any possible injuries at the last hurdle.

So how am I looking? All things considered, I think I'm in pretty good shape. Weight is a little over thirteen stone - down around four stone from this time last year. Legs are good and strong. No lasting knee problems. I'm eating right and looking after myself. It's looking good. Just gotta make a few more big pushes and then it's the final terrifying downhill slope to the day of destiny. Sunday 28th April 2019. A day that once seemed so far in the future that it was laughable. Fifty-eight days left. It's coming up fast.

It will all be worth it for this one moment. This final few hundred metres.

Fifteen down, eleven to go

Made an effort to push myself last Friday and managed to smash my previous personal best. Now I know that I can run at least fifteen miles of the London Marathon! It feel absolutely amazing to know that I'm capable of something that previously seemed utterly impossible. Never in my life did I think such a task was not only doable, but also totally achievable. And my legs didn't hurt the day after! I've come a long way and learned an awful lot about how to care for my shattered and exhausted body. Namely stretches and squats and lunges to ease the pressure in my knees.

I don't know what I'm proudest of - the distance or the time.

I took a couple of energy gels with me on the run and ate/ drank them at the six and twelve mile mark. I honestly don't know if they assisted with reach the fifteen mile target, but it felt as though they did. Plus, they're tasty. I will try to bring a few sachets to London with me. Four or five should do it, I think. They provide a good break to the near-constan water intake and give my body plenty of required carbs, sugars, and nutrients - essential on the day, especially if the weather is good.

Also learned an important lesson about charging Bluetooth headphones. Turns out that mine can only last between four to five hours at a pinch. They ran out on the twelfth mile, so I had to run three more laps while listening to my own frantic wheezing - and the endless sloshing of the water bag on my back. Nothing like needing to pee to keep you running!

For this week (and maybe the next, too), I intend to ease back on the distance a bit to let my legs recover and recharge. Two months and one day left to go - plenty of time to push myself at least once more. Can I hit the big two-zero? Let's find out...

The London Marathon map

The course map for the 2019 London Marathon has been unveiled and, oh boy, it looks long. Something about seeing the course laid out like this makes it feel so, so much worse. This is what the route looks like in its entirety:

That is a long, long, looooong red line...

Let's take a look through the course route in a bit more detail, shall we?

All I can see are the pubs I'll be missing...

The opening of the marathon, the first 10K. This doesn't worry me too much. I've had plenty of practice crossing this distance. Looks like nice, flat streets. A few bends. The big challenge with this section - as I've been warned before - is not to get too excited by the cheering crowds or the incredible surroundings or the thousands of other people bolting from the start line like greyhounds after a rabbit. I have to remember not to overdo it too soon. In fact, it would be better to try and run slower than usual during these opening stages, to save my energy for the latter parts of the course, when I'll surely need it most.

Good thing the course will be marked on the day - I'd get lost trying to mavigate this!

This is where I'll start to really feel it. At the time of writing, my personal long-distance record is a shade over fourteen miles. You can see it right there, near the top of the map. It's a good number, isn't it? But here, in the context of the entire London Marathon, it's not good enough. Not even close. It's only a little over halfway. I can't be satisfied with running half the course and blowing out for the rest. I'm an all-or-nothing kind of guy, I will never be happy with walking the second half of this course. I need to go as far as I can - and then further still.

Those twists and turns look a little unpleasant, too. Lots of sharp corners. What are the roads like? London has a lot of cobbled streets. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to take a tumble during the run? What if I hurt myself? Or, worse, what if I fall over on camera? Millions of people could see me go arse-up in the middle of the capital.

The culmination of all my training. Six months boil down to the final three miles.

The final stretch, the sprint - or pained amble, slow jog, exhausted walk - to the finish line. I can't imagine how good it will feel to run along the Thames past these world-famous landmarks. Will I be able to enjoy the view, or will I be too drained, too shattered, too exhausted to even notice?

The finale. Wonder if Liz will put the kettle on for me?

And here it is in close-up - the finish line. Remember, the distance between Marathon and Athens is twenty-six point three miles, so when I hit the magical mark, there will still be a tiny bit left to run. I turn away from the Thames, head back toward the city. Then a run past Lizzie's House and there, in the distance - the finsh line. I'm getting goosebumps trying to imagine that sight. Trying to imagine turning the final corner and bursting onto The Mall. Streets lined with people. Blood pumping in my veins. Feet pounding the road. Legs aching. And then the giant red posts come into view...

I have never been so excited and simultaneously terrified like this before. What an incredible day it's going to be. What a fantastic experience to treasure. I can't wait.