About running the London Marathon
So it’s finally London Marathon week!! After months of training, weeks of hard work, days when we couldn’t be bothered or didn’t have the energy to get out and do our long run… It’s finally here.
It’s been a long time coming. Training probably started around December for many of us (January in my case). I must admit those days feel like a distant memory. During those dark January mornings, nothing really made sense. Feeling mostly unfit, half asleep and not really seeing the point. The spring marathon was so far away, it didn’t feel real and now it’s here.
We have completed enough long runs at various paces, distances and intensities. It has gone mostly ok; not exactly as planned due to those horrible niggles in the hamstring/foot/knee but good enough to have ticked all the training boxes. That last long run 3 weeks ago was agonising, but it had to be done. 20 miles done and dusted.
We finally made it to taper. The last two weeks have also been quite problematic. Trying to avoid people/human contact, covering our mouths during the morning commute, and sipping hot tea with lemon and honey to help our immune system. We have been a bag of nerves and a bit volatile with our loved ones.
We must admit we didn’t feel 100% prepared last week and were very tempted to cram in one last long run, but have listened to that experienced runner and trusted that the work was done. Even now we’re still wondering if we should’ve done more in the last 10 days.
But here we are… We’ve picked up our bib from the expo and bought enough running gear and merchandise to last us for the next 5 years. We’re finally home in the final stretch before D day and all that’s left is to plan our race strategy. How should I run the London Marathon? What does the course look like? If only there was some mile-by-mile guide to help me figure out how to run the race…
Right, I think it’s pretty obvious the paragraphs above do not reflect this year’s London Marathon. The reason I have decided to do this is because I want it to feel like marathon weekend. I think we all do.
I want it to be marathon weekend so much that I will be running a treadmill marathon again on Sunday while I watch a rerun of any London Marathon whilst I run. I’m guessing pretending I’m running with the elite. I will aim for a sub 2.40 marathon, so I want to go through the same feelings and emotions I would normally for that kind of effort.
I can’t remember when or how the idea started, but it has also fitted well with the treadmill running I have been doing. I have gone from 120km per week 4 weeks ago to 105km, 101km, 90km to finally about 30km this week. Very similar to what my taper would look like in normal conditions.
With that in mind I want to go through the London Marathon course as I remember it from one of my better efforts (I’m definitely choosing to forget the hot years, especially 2018 for those who ran that hellish year).
I typically get up 3 hours before race time. I have a large black coffee (no milk) and a bagel with jam and/or peanut butter. I take my time getting ready. Psyching myself up for parts of the morning or just mentally disconnecting for other parts.
I’ll skip right to the start of the race.
Km 1: Don’t trip over. That is my goal for the 1st kilometre. Try to stay out of trouble. No zig-zagging, no sprints, no panic. The aim is to be patient until I find some room to stretch the legs to target pace. Obviously, I’m very lucky to often start in Championship or GFA, but it still is a reality of the race on the day.
The first 2–3km are a real danger in a marathon. Especially in London. The level of running is extremely good, so it’s very easy to get swept up with the emotions and adrenaline of the occasion and start running at someone else’s pace. I use the first 2–3km to settle my nerves and get a breathing rhythm. I don’t care too much about pace because there’s some downhill to come so I focus on my breathing, calming my heart rate and staying out of trouble.
Km 4 is already quite favourable. About 17 meters of descent on Hill Reach which a lot of runners use to gain a few seconds. I also use the downhill to steal a few seconds, but I am very aware of my quads, I need to make sure they’re not overused even at that early stage. I remember how long the distance is and try to shorten my stride. I obsess about using as little energy as possible all the way to the bottom of the hill.
I get to the roundabout by Woolwich after about 5,5km and I feel like I am barely working. It’s a good sign. The pace so far is quicker than what my final average will be, and that’s ok. I have not overused a gram of energy to get those few seconds in the bag and I will be using them shortly along Woolwich Road.
I get to the PWR water station and a big shot of adrenaline fills my veins. I pick up the pace without noticing it. That’s fine too. Adrenaline is a finite thing, and I’m ok to call on it to gain yet a few more seconds without using up too much effort.
I slow down a bit and settle into my target pace or even a little slower for the next few km.
Km 10: I get to Greenwich and the legs know you’re in a race. I have been running for about 40 minutes and, muscularly, I start noticing the effort. It has been flat so far and I have made it my job to cruise for as long as possible. The race hasn’t even started, and the course has been downhill, flat and pretty straightforward. No proper effort required just yet.
At this point I use up another big rush of adrenaline as I get to the Cutty Sark and everyone around me waves to the cameras filming live. The crowds are spectacular and loud. I check in with my inner feelings and slow down, it’s still very early in the race and I need to conserve energy.
At km 12, just after the Cutty Sark, there’s only 30km left, and I tell myself it’s a 30km race, not a marathon and my race starts here after a longish warm up.
The next few km are quite uneventful and groups start to break up. I reckon some runners are starting to realise they need to really slow down, as they already in trouble. Not the serious trouble of having to pull out now but the trouble one is in when they realise they will not last the distance, so they start a long slowing death-march that will culminate in serious issues around Canary Wharf or just before the embankment.
Km 17 and we get to Rotherhithe. I have slowed down a bit but my average pace is still just under what I am aiming for the race. I am running alone and the constant change of direction, terrain and pace from people around me, I feel a bit thrown off. I struggle to keep up for a bit as my rhythm is not flowing and I am having to consciously push to stay on it.
Km 18, 19 and 20 are already on Jamaica Road and the crowds are getting thicker again. I get back on the good body rhythm (breathing, steps, arm movement, etc.) and both pace and good vibes follow. Back on track just before turning on to Tower Bridge.
I get a massive high and pick it up slightly to cross the bridge. The noise is deafening but I am fighting the wind and the small incline towards the middle of the bridge. I know the current pace is not real, but I am happy to push a bit and show myself I’ve got the reserves if I need them. I also feel like crossing half way on the front foot.
Inevitably though, after the high comes a low and immediately after the half way mark I start struggling again. 21.1km in good time and with good energy. The inner check at that point leaves me a bit caught in two minds. I can push on and start digging, but it’s a long way to go still.
Kms 22 and 23 are a bit of a drag, Fighting the wind I pick up another gel just in case, but the groups of runners are a lot thinner. I have started going past people without even trying. The distance is starting to take its toll with runners of all abilities, specially those who went out slightly too fast in the first half.
I tell myself to be patient as we run through the various wharfs. The narrow streets and close crowds give the me the strength to stay on pace. I am definitely noticing the effort on my legs and I have to start tricking myself; “keep the effort until that lamp post”, “you’re gaining on that runner 15 meters ahead, keep the effort until you catch them”, etc.
I start telling myself that the hard parts of the course are to come and not to panic; it is ok to lose time for a bit. There is no pacing police, only me trying to manage the distance, and the distance dictates I take a breather before it gets hellishly hard.
Km 25 and I get to my least favourite part of the course. The first underpass towards the Isle of Dogs.
At this point, the mental game is very important as the pace becomes quite difficult to maintain naturally. The underpass doesn’t help as it throws the GPS off and the Garmin can’t come to the rescue. Time to focus on myself and leave the Garmin to one side. The race starts now.
I am able to push through the pain and focus on the runner ahead of me. I keep hydrating and take a gel to give me a bit of quick-release energy. Westferry Road all the way to East Ferry Road. After the left turn I’m presented with a serious set of inclines. Never that noticeable on TV but quite tough when running it.
Km 28 and two thirds of the race done. Only 14 km to go. Time to see how the training really went and put my body and mind to the test.
I use Canary Wharf as a booster. The pain has really started. Km 29 and 30 hurt but the crowds are fantastic, and they carry me to keep passing runners. I have given up with the Garmin and go by feel. All I need to do is keep the effort until the end now.
As I come out of Canary Wharf, and around km 31, we get to possibly the hardest part of the course. Strong winds, no support and a long, lonely zig-zag to get to Poplar High Street. 10km to go!
I am pretty much done. The legs hurt, and I feel hot and tired, but the worst part really is mentally overcoming the feeling of having to run for another 40 minutes. I want to stop. With every step I have to convince myself to keep running.
I know I can finish but those final 10km will hurt. A lot. I focus on the positives of seeing other runners seemingly giving in and starting to slow down. I am still at pace. I have doubts I’ll be able to stay on pace for long and the feeling I get is that I am slowing down but this is the best I can do if I am going to complete the distance.
Km 35 and I get a much-needed boost seeing runners going the other way. I seem to be running alone now, picking off those whose race hasn’t gone to plan. I tell myself to get to km 37 so I can mentally process the distance left. One parkrun to go. I get to it by Tower Hill just before getting to Monument.
I know I will finish! My legs are very tired, but they keep going and haven’t turned to lead yet. I can keep moving. I am now very thirsty but get some cool air going down towards the underpass.
I get a second wind and decide to start pushing. It’s now or never. Little climb to come out on the other side of the underpass and only 3 and a bit km to go at the start of the Embankment.
Every step now is agony. I can’t even pick up any more drinks. I am focused on my form and giving everything I’ve got. I am looking forward to the crowds by the Big Ben. I keep on passing people but feel exhausted. I want to stop and lie down for the rest of the day.
Small incline up to Westminster and I turn right with about 1.2km to go. I know I should be picking up the pace but I can barely move. The screaming and clapping helps me. I probably look dead and slow but I am pushing as hard as I can.
On to Birdcage Walk and 800 meters to go. I tell myself to sprint and I feel I can pick up the pace slightly. 600 meters left. 400 meters.
Turn right on to The Mall with 300 hundred meters to go and I see the finish line. Those final meters feel like they never end. I see the stands on my right hand side and I start feeling emotional. I can see the clock and I am about to get a PB. I push on and focus on that final sprint to cross the finish line in a 7 minute PB. I stop the Garmin and almost collapse to the floor. I start coughing. I can barely walk. I am happy and emotional but haven’t really come to terms with what I’ve achieved.
I take my time to the medals and to bag collection. When I finally collapse on the grass waiting for other runners to get to the meeting point. I am at ease. With nothing left to do. I soak up the few rays of sunshine whilst munching on an apple and slowly sipping on my water.
I love the London Marathon!
