London Marathon 2014
The Long Road to London
I had secured my Championship Entry at the Great North Run but was beginning to doubt I was going to do it justice. Since the GNR I had been diagnosed with inflammatory arthritis, secured my biggest race win and then picked up an injury which ruled me out for the whole of February. Fairly or not, I laid the blame for the injury on the medication I was taking for the arthritis. It had exacerbated the mastocytosis and - I believe - pushed me into a state of overtraining. The fault though was my own for ignoring all the red flags, like maxing my HR on the first rep at training that evening (and still being 10 seconds slow over 800m), an elevated resting HR and steadily climbing ALT, fatigue on an easy run… Hindsight sucks. February was a write off training-wise, and it had also launched a thousand ships of doubt about my ability to continue competing.
I cross-trained for a week, made the injury worse, sulked for a week then started cross-training again. The second I was cleared for training I zeroed in on every possible marginal gain. Sugar was completely out, I obsessed over macronutrients, did core 6 days a week, went to bed early and avoided any unnecessary social contact (I had now switched to methotrexate and wasn't sure how my immune system would cope). I bought a Trion:Z necklace, discovered it worked and never took it off. Even though I had run London twice before I studied the course on Google Street View as my race memory is notoriously unreliable and I hadn't gone off the blue start before.
Any worries I had slipped away in the lead up to London. My only over-20 long run went really well. Despite an awful race two weeks before (the National Relays), my body was finally responding as it had been before the Great Winter Run. I started entertaining the idea of a 3.15 marathon…
London
Thursday
London was magnificent. Sunny and happy and full of pre-marathon buzz. I arrived on the Thursday and Mum was due in on the Friday. My excitement reached fever pitch as I ran around Blackheath and Greenwich Park. The Park was full of people feeding squirrels and dogs chasing them up trees. Blackheath was already home to the British Portaloo Convention and Zippos Circus. My body was responding really well, picking the pace up to 5'20 for a few strides then dropping back to 7ish. Running down Shooter's Hill Road made me feel pretty emotional. I had made it to London and was going to set off down that same road on my way to a marathon PB. As before the Great Winter Run, I could feel my focus narrowing. It was on this run that I knew I had to dump the 3hrs 15 pace and shoot for 3. On paper this was completely bonkers (half marathon PB 1.29.28, one long run, 4 weeks out) but this run, combined with how easy Tuesday's 'marathon pace' run had felt settled the matter. It's funny how closely this scenario resembles that of Steve Way, albeit on a very different scale. He decided to go with the 2.15 pacer based on the response of his body the day before! Steve Way went on to run 2.16.27, third Brit and 15th overall. This is one of the things I love about London, you can be part of something big, with great things being achieved all the way from the sharp end to the rhinos. But I digress, it's not yet marathon day...
Friday
The expo was completely different to 2010, better in every way. In 2010 I had been disappointed with the official marathon clothes. I bought nothing despite having saved my pennies in advance. This year the kit was great, some running gear and some leisure. Although they were running out of 'small' by Friday afternoon… The stalls were different too, much more focus on natural nutrition and less on the chemical sugar gels. The staff at the expo were fantastic, they made having a championship place feel really special. I was given a leaflet requesting a DNA sample for a study on elite athletes, and then timing chip man made a big fuss of me for being in the championship (the number is a giveaway) at which point everything got a bit surreal! After the expo I strong-armed Mum into a trip to the Westgate to go to Yo Sushi!
Saturday
I had a short jog on Saturday morning, followed by an attempt at a nap. Our hotel room backed onto a door in the corridor and squeaky floorboards so I kept getting woken up.
I picked Saturday's restaurants by the quality of the menu and their Food Hygiene Ratings (links at the bottom). We were the only diners at the Everest Inn in Blackheath at lunchtime (deliberately triggering mast cell degranulation with spices), but Locale (Gluten free pasta) was busy in the evening. Both were, Mum and I agreed, among the very best restaurants we've eaten at. Eating rice and pasta (even gluten free) was a bit strange after months of getting all my carbs from fruit and veg. I got up to 60% of my calories from carbs for three days (very rare for me). I'm pretty sure the hotel staff (The Clarendon) thought I was bonkers going down to breakfast every morning with my own cereal and rice milk but I was keeping a tight rein on all the 'controllables'.
Race Day
On Sunday morning Mum and I walked across the heath and to the Blue Start. We parted company at the entrance and I went through in search of the championship start. The championship start was surreally full of people I knew or recognised from racing in Scotland. There is some serious strength in depth in Scottish distance running at the moment - in fact the first woman home off the championship start (finishing ahead of the two Brits on the elite start) was Nicola Duncan from Portobello (Scottish running club). I saw quite a few Scots out on the course too:
Travel 450 miles and race with 36,000 people, finish 11 seconds ahead of Jillian Gordon (new nemesis!) of Kinross!
We had a pretty short stretch of road to warm up on. Mo Farah ran down the verge at one point (more surreal!). Mum had somehow found her way round to the barrier at the end of this road and got some interesting pictures of Mo in the adjacent 'warm up paddock'. She was though very concerned that he only warmed up 'on one leg' while all the Africans had a change of rein across the diagonal. Mum was a three-day event rider… She has also informed me that next time I need to warm up off road. Mum's photographic compositions included 'mankini man' and 'two men peeing':
Mo and mankini man, and Mo running with two men who don't know how to open portaloos
We were soon being ushered to the start from where we shuffled forward every few minutes until our excited little pack was right behind the elite men. At this point I manoeuvred away from my club mates. I'm so used to running with them that I didn't think I would run at my own pace if I was next to them. I made sure I wasn't in the centre of the road as I knew there was road furniture just beyond the start. The elites were introduced and there was a big cheer for Mo, then we were off.
The Marathon
After everything that had preceded this I felt a bit emotional crossing the line. I had to remind myself to focus! I ran by feel, checking my watch occasionally for pace. It was fast but that was okay as the early miles are downhill and it felt effortless. I went through the first 5K in 20.23 (slower than all my club mates) and grinning like an idiot. Unlike Loch Ness I felt really, really good. The cries of 'Go Fi Fi' (Fife AC club vest) made me smile. I caught Jen between 5 and 10K and hoped she would come with me, but she was struggling with her breathing and opted for the most sensible course of action and backed off. 10K passed by in 40.52 (a PB but I didn't realise at the time), and I was still feeling great. I was well under 3hr pace and kept trying to tell myself not to count my chickens. My response at this point was 'sod the chickens'.
Up onto the bridge and through a tunnel of noise, then briefly into step with first Lee and then Giles (Fife AC) before going through half way in 1.27.40. This was a bit of a shock, given my previous PB of 1.29.28! Between 20 and 30K things started to get a little uncomfortable (one long run is definitely not enough!), I developed a pain in my hip (trochanteric bursitis it turns out) and the hot pain under the ball of my foot suddenly became a wet pain (popped blister). My quad muscles were steadily being replaced by concrete. But I was okay. I had seen several friends along the way, including Angela early on, but seeing Lisa at Limehouse always lifts my spirits. She was commanding a great position on top of a wall. I wondered how long she had been there. At this point I was still feeling okay but gradually the fatigue and discomfort was becoming more noticeable. Between 30 and 40K I realised that sub-3 was out but qualifying for next year's championship was still very feasible. The thought 'why the feck would I want to do this again?' definitely crossed my mind (I say this as I now have every intention of entering!). Mile 24 went on forever and ever. My Garmin was now about 400m ahead (I couldn't always take the racing line) so calculating distance to go was tough on my glucose deprived brain. In fact my Garmin was still showing sub-3 pace, because of the added distance, so was quite unhelpful.
The 25 banner finally came and then so did the back of Amie. Although I had passed Amie around mile 18/19 of Loch Ness this was a real shock. Amie was in the shape of her life - had recently run a 1.24 half. I urged her to come with me as I passed but there was no response. With 1K to go I decided to press for home. My Garmin heart rate reading shows I picked up from 91% max to 95%. A small difference but I could feel it straight away in my breathing. At 800m to go I tried to figure out whether I could still sneak under 3hrs (not even at world record pace). At 600m my breathing was ragged. Then I turned the corner at Buckingham Palace and saw the finishing straight.
I nearly ran into the 2.59 pacer who was veering left while checking his watch (a bit late, no?). I heard the commentator say 'this is the absolute worst time for runners to come in. They would be happier with four hours than 2 minutes over 3'. Actually, no, but thanks for pointing it out. I ran down the middle of The Mall grinning like an idiot and crossed the line in 3.02.03. Then I started crying. I got my chips removed (championship runners have two), got my medal and then turned to look for Amie. After a few minutes of not seeing her I assumed she had gone by while I was busying being emotional.
Once I'd got my bag I responded to a text from Dad, then rang Mum (who was about 800m away). Then I rang my coach, Ron Morrison, to say thank you. He told me things hadn't gone so well for everyone else. Megan hadn't run a PB, but was still in the top 10. Amie had come in a minute or so behind me and Jen was still out on the course. In a way it says a lot about our little training group that a runner could be disappointed with 2.47 (Megan) or 3.03 (Amie). Unfortunately it means that I might be alone in my return to London next year!
I met my friend Leanne and Mum up on Horse Guards' Parade, then saw Megan and Iain. We went to the 'F' meeting point looking for other Fifers (not knowing Amie was in the medical tent). I met a few other people (including Lou my long-time nemesis ;) ) before deciding Pizza Express was calling. Walking up through Soho was interesting as the pain in my hip was pretty intense and people kept walking into me (or buggy-nudging me off the pavement). I had a risotto followed by a mini chocolate brownie, the first non-gluten free sugar hit in months! Mum wouldn't let me order a beer (last drink was a half glass of cava at Christmas) so I made do with Appletiser 'cause fizzy apple juice is how I roll.
Mum tried to get Leanne to spill the beans about all the musicians and bands she had worked with but she only revealed that Kylie is the nicest. I guess you couldn't be a diva and have a career that long and successful.
Then it was off back to Blackheath. Funnily enough Dad said that when he was watching the little runner on the online marathon tracker, when it got to the end my little onscreen doppelgänger went back to Blackheath and started again!
That evening we went back to Locale where they presented us both with a glass of celebratory prosecco. I was allowed that one (well half of it!).
Given the injury, the mastocytosis, the inflammatory arthritis and all the races where my health problems had compromised my time, either in the race or the build up, I was completely overwhelmed with my time. I had controlled the controllables and left nothing on the course. If you remember what Bryony Shaw said after winning an Olympic bronze medal (and it wasn't exactly fit for TV), you'll know how I felt.
I had secured my Championship Entry at the Great North Run but was beginning to doubt I was going to do it justice. Since the GNR I had been diagnosed with inflammatory arthritis, secured my biggest race win and then picked up an injury which ruled me out for the whole of February. Fairly or not, I laid the blame for the injury on the medication I was taking for the arthritis. It had exacerbated the mastocytosis and - I believe - pushed me into a state of overtraining. The fault though was my own for ignoring all the red flags, like maxing my HR on the first rep at training that evening (and still being 10 seconds slow over 800m), an elevated resting HR and steadily climbing ALT, fatigue on an easy run… Hindsight sucks. February was a write off training-wise, and it had also launched a thousand ships of doubt about my ability to continue competing.
I cross-trained for a week, made the injury worse, sulked for a week then started cross-training again. The second I was cleared for training I zeroed in on every possible marginal gain. Sugar was completely out, I obsessed over macronutrients, did core 6 days a week, went to bed early and avoided any unnecessary social contact (I had now switched to methotrexate and wasn't sure how my immune system would cope). I bought a Trion:Z necklace, discovered it worked and never took it off. Even though I had run London twice before I studied the course on Google Street View as my race memory is notoriously unreliable and I hadn't gone off the blue start before.
Any worries I had slipped away in the lead up to London. My only over-20 long run went really well. Despite an awful race two weeks before (the National Relays), my body was finally responding as it had been before the Great Winter Run. I started entertaining the idea of a 3.15 marathon…
London
Thursday
London was magnificent. Sunny and happy and full of pre-marathon buzz. I arrived on the Thursday and Mum was due in on the Friday. My excitement reached fever pitch as I ran around Blackheath and Greenwich Park. The Park was full of people feeding squirrels and dogs chasing them up trees. Blackheath was already home to the British Portaloo Convention and Zippos Circus. My body was responding really well, picking the pace up to 5'20 for a few strides then dropping back to 7ish. Running down Shooter's Hill Road made me feel pretty emotional. I had made it to London and was going to set off down that same road on my way to a marathon PB. As before the Great Winter Run, I could feel my focus narrowing. It was on this run that I knew I had to dump the 3hrs 15 pace and shoot for 3. On paper this was completely bonkers (half marathon PB 1.29.28, one long run, 4 weeks out) but this run, combined with how easy Tuesday's 'marathon pace' run had felt settled the matter. It's funny how closely this scenario resembles that of Steve Way, albeit on a very different scale. He decided to go with the 2.15 pacer based on the response of his body the day before! Steve Way went on to run 2.16.27, third Brit and 15th overall. This is one of the things I love about London, you can be part of something big, with great things being achieved all the way from the sharp end to the rhinos. But I digress, it's not yet marathon day...
Friday
The expo was completely different to 2010, better in every way. In 2010 I had been disappointed with the official marathon clothes. I bought nothing despite having saved my pennies in advance. This year the kit was great, some running gear and some leisure. Although they were running out of 'small' by Friday afternoon… The stalls were different too, much more focus on natural nutrition and less on the chemical sugar gels. The staff at the expo were fantastic, they made having a championship place feel really special. I was given a leaflet requesting a DNA sample for a study on elite athletes, and then timing chip man made a big fuss of me for being in the championship (the number is a giveaway) at which point everything got a bit surreal! After the expo I strong-armed Mum into a trip to the Westgate to go to Yo Sushi!
Saturday
I had a short jog on Saturday morning, followed by an attempt at a nap. Our hotel room backed onto a door in the corridor and squeaky floorboards so I kept getting woken up.
I picked Saturday's restaurants by the quality of the menu and their Food Hygiene Ratings (links at the bottom). We were the only diners at the Everest Inn in Blackheath at lunchtime (deliberately triggering mast cell degranulation with spices), but Locale (Gluten free pasta) was busy in the evening. Both were, Mum and I agreed, among the very best restaurants we've eaten at. Eating rice and pasta (even gluten free) was a bit strange after months of getting all my carbs from fruit and veg. I got up to 60% of my calories from carbs for three days (very rare for me). I'm pretty sure the hotel staff (The Clarendon) thought I was bonkers going down to breakfast every morning with my own cereal and rice milk but I was keeping a tight rein on all the 'controllables'.
Race Day
On Sunday morning Mum and I walked across the heath and to the Blue Start. We parted company at the entrance and I went through in search of the championship start. The championship start was surreally full of people I knew or recognised from racing in Scotland. There is some serious strength in depth in Scottish distance running at the moment - in fact the first woman home off the championship start (finishing ahead of the two Brits on the elite start) was Nicola Duncan from Portobello (Scottish running club). I saw quite a few Scots out on the course too:
Travel 450 miles and race with 36,000 people, finish 11 seconds ahead of Jillian Gordon (new nemesis!) of Kinross!
We had a pretty short stretch of road to warm up on. Mo Farah ran down the verge at one point (more surreal!). Mum had somehow found her way round to the barrier at the end of this road and got some interesting pictures of Mo in the adjacent 'warm up paddock'. She was though very concerned that he only warmed up 'on one leg' while all the Africans had a change of rein across the diagonal. Mum was a three-day event rider… She has also informed me that next time I need to warm up off road. Mum's photographic compositions included 'mankini man' and 'two men peeing':
Mo and mankini man, and Mo running with two men who don't know how to open portaloos
We were soon being ushered to the start from where we shuffled forward every few minutes until our excited little pack was right behind the elite men. At this point I manoeuvred away from my club mates. I'm so used to running with them that I didn't think I would run at my own pace if I was next to them. I made sure I wasn't in the centre of the road as I knew there was road furniture just beyond the start. The elites were introduced and there was a big cheer for Mo, then we were off.
The Marathon
After everything that had preceded this I felt a bit emotional crossing the line. I had to remind myself to focus! I ran by feel, checking my watch occasionally for pace. It was fast but that was okay as the early miles are downhill and it felt effortless. I went through the first 5K in 20.23 (slower than all my club mates) and grinning like an idiot. Unlike Loch Ness I felt really, really good. The cries of 'Go Fi Fi' (Fife AC club vest) made me smile. I caught Jen between 5 and 10K and hoped she would come with me, but she was struggling with her breathing and opted for the most sensible course of action and backed off. 10K passed by in 40.52 (a PB but I didn't realise at the time), and I was still feeling great. I was well under 3hr pace and kept trying to tell myself not to count my chickens. My response at this point was 'sod the chickens'.
Up onto the bridge and through a tunnel of noise, then briefly into step with first Lee and then Giles (Fife AC) before going through half way in 1.27.40. This was a bit of a shock, given my previous PB of 1.29.28! Between 20 and 30K things started to get a little uncomfortable (one long run is definitely not enough!), I developed a pain in my hip (trochanteric bursitis it turns out) and the hot pain under the ball of my foot suddenly became a wet pain (popped blister). My quad muscles were steadily being replaced by concrete. But I was okay. I had seen several friends along the way, including Angela early on, but seeing Lisa at Limehouse always lifts my spirits. She was commanding a great position on top of a wall. I wondered how long she had been there. At this point I was still feeling okay but gradually the fatigue and discomfort was becoming more noticeable. Between 30 and 40K I realised that sub-3 was out but qualifying for next year's championship was still very feasible. The thought 'why the feck would I want to do this again?' definitely crossed my mind (I say this as I now have every intention of entering!). Mile 24 went on forever and ever. My Garmin was now about 400m ahead (I couldn't always take the racing line) so calculating distance to go was tough on my glucose deprived brain. In fact my Garmin was still showing sub-3 pace, because of the added distance, so was quite unhelpful.
The 25 banner finally came and then so did the back of Amie. Although I had passed Amie around mile 18/19 of Loch Ness this was a real shock. Amie was in the shape of her life - had recently run a 1.24 half. I urged her to come with me as I passed but there was no response. With 1K to go I decided to press for home. My Garmin heart rate reading shows I picked up from 91% max to 95%. A small difference but I could feel it straight away in my breathing. At 800m to go I tried to figure out whether I could still sneak under 3hrs (not even at world record pace). At 600m my breathing was ragged. Then I turned the corner at Buckingham Palace and saw the finishing straight.
I nearly ran into the 2.59 pacer who was veering left while checking his watch (a bit late, no?). I heard the commentator say 'this is the absolute worst time for runners to come in. They would be happier with four hours than 2 minutes over 3'. Actually, no, but thanks for pointing it out. I ran down the middle of The Mall grinning like an idiot and crossed the line in 3.02.03. Then I started crying. I got my chips removed (championship runners have two), got my medal and then turned to look for Amie. After a few minutes of not seeing her I assumed she had gone by while I was busying being emotional.
Once I'd got my bag I responded to a text from Dad, then rang Mum (who was about 800m away). Then I rang my coach, Ron Morrison, to say thank you. He told me things hadn't gone so well for everyone else. Megan hadn't run a PB, but was still in the top 10. Amie had come in a minute or so behind me and Jen was still out on the course. In a way it says a lot about our little training group that a runner could be disappointed with 2.47 (Megan) or 3.03 (Amie). Unfortunately it means that I might be alone in my return to London next year!
I met my friend Leanne and Mum up on Horse Guards' Parade, then saw Megan and Iain. We went to the 'F' meeting point looking for other Fifers (not knowing Amie was in the medical tent). I met a few other people (including Lou my long-time nemesis ;) ) before deciding Pizza Express was calling. Walking up through Soho was interesting as the pain in my hip was pretty intense and people kept walking into me (or buggy-nudging me off the pavement). I had a risotto followed by a mini chocolate brownie, the first non-gluten free sugar hit in months! Mum wouldn't let me order a beer (last drink was a half glass of cava at Christmas) so I made do with Appletiser 'cause fizzy apple juice is how I roll.
Mum tried to get Leanne to spill the beans about all the musicians and bands she had worked with but she only revealed that Kylie is the nicest. I guess you couldn't be a diva and have a career that long and successful.
Then it was off back to Blackheath. Funnily enough Dad said that when he was watching the little runner on the online marathon tracker, when it got to the end my little onscreen doppelgänger went back to Blackheath and started again!
That evening we went back to Locale where they presented us both with a glass of celebratory prosecco. I was allowed that one (well half of it!).
Given the injury, the mastocytosis, the inflammatory arthritis and all the races where my health problems had compromised my time, either in the race or the build up, I was completely overwhelmed with my time. I had controlled the controllables and left nothing on the course. If you remember what Bryony Shaw said after winning an Olympic bronze medal (and it wasn't exactly fit for TV), you'll know how I felt.
Back on Blackheath, ready to go again!
Links
Food Hygiene ratings (St Andrews folk, check out Cherries, eek!)
Steven 'Who?' Way's London blog
Locale (Blackheath)
The Everest Inn
Links
Food Hygiene ratings (St Andrews folk, check out Cherries, eek!)
Steven 'Who?' Way's London blog
Locale (Blackheath)
The Everest Inn
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