Category: Liverpool 2011

It will end where it all began

In case you hadn’t noticed, the date yesterday was Friday 9th September, and it felt like it carried a great deal of significance to me. For after signing up for the marathon, all the way back in mid-April, with nearly five months to train, prepare, weep and worry, I now have less than a month until it all becomes very real. One solitary month to get everything in place and ensure that my stupid little legs can carry me round the 26.2 mile course without collapsing under me and leaving me with a face full of shattered teeth in front of several hundred people. One month. That really doesn’t feel like a particularly long time. Last week’s 20-miler gave me a degree of confidence; after all, that’s a full three miles longer than I have ever run before. But the last two of those miles were bloody hard. And this will then be another six miles on top of that. And, as the other idiot running the marathon with me has pointed out, it really is rather hilly. The tunnel incline is almost bang on half distance, so I should imagine that the preceding 13 mile run round an industrial estate on The Wirral will be ideal preparation for that. And then, no sooner will I have recovered from Tunnel Hell, they’ve thrown in another hill almost as big on...

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Beware of the bonk

Sorry it’s been so long since the last update. I guess a part of me wanted to keep the piece on Josh at the top of the page, and I’d like to thank all of you who have taken the time to read it and donate. I’m a bit overwhelmed by the response so far and amazingly, I’m only just over £150 from the target with five weeks still to go until I actually have to run the thing. I’m chuffed to bits, so thank you. I’ve also found it hard to get the time to actually sit down and write a new entry. I’ve started one more than once, and by the time I’ve sat down to finish it, the original point is no longer relevant, or it doesn’t make sense. And not just because I can’t write properly. That’s probably only a part of it. Possibly. But finding a bit of time to sit down and write a few hundred words, when working full time, then having to run eight miles upwards most weeknights, is bloody hard. And last weekend I was in London (and subsequently not training) so that was no good either. I had a great idea centred around the fact that I was due to run 18 miles (another new record) a couple of Sundays ago. The number 18 was very specific to the intended piece, I should...

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Time for a guest column this week. I’ve been meaning for literally weeks now to write a piece about the charity I am running for, and have always seemed to come up a bit short. I wanted to do the piece justice, and highlight all the amazing work that The Children’s Heart Association do across the North West, and how they supported the brilliant Josh Fielding throughout his life, but in the end I decided that it would be a whole lot better coming from one of the people that knew him best, and had seen first hand what great work they do. So even if you’ve ignored my ramblings in the past, boring you senseless with tales of sweaty woe, please take a few minutes to read this week’s entry. And after that, it’d be real swell if you could head over to my JustGiving page and chuck a few quid their way. Because, you know, they’re awesome. And so was Josh. So please, give it up, for Jessica Fielding, who will tell you all you need to know. The Children’s Heart Association is an amazing organisation and it has been quite a challenge to put it all into words. Not as much of a challenge as the 26.2 miles Joe will be running though, obviously. The Association exist to provide exciting and fun activities for not only the kids...

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A new record

Approaching the four banks in Chorlton a week ago, I glanced down at my phone to see how far into the run I was. This was the supposedly easy weekend in my training plan compared to what had gone previously, and what was to come in the weeks ahead. “Just” 13 miles, spread over two days; a light jog on the Saturday and then this steady eight mile session early on Sunday morning. The week before I had dragged myself round 18 miles, including a half marathon on the Sunday, the furthest I had run for nearly two years. The following weekend would be 21 miles. The week after that, 23. This was the recovery weekend to let my body absorb some of the battering it had been taking, and allow it to be in a decent shape for the serious business that lay ahead. Eight miles should have been easy; perhaps a couple of months ago I would have looked at the day’s plan and felt intimidated, but these days such is the regularity of sessions with mileage into double figures that this barely even registered on the scale of Running Fear. A quick hour out on the road and then a relaxing day spent watching England tear India a new one at Trent Bridge. Lovely stuff. However things were not quite going to plan. After a fairly...

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