Day 17: Hunger Pangs and Huel Power

-

The Joys of Recovery Runs

Day 17 of my London Marathon 2025 training, and after yesterday's longer run, a shorter recovery run was just what the coach ordered. Thanks to a wisely early bedtime—prompted by sheer exhaustion—waking at 5:15 am wasn’t the Herculean feat it usually feels like.

The 24-minute route took me from The Math School, looping around Borstal and back. My legs felt as though they’d temporarily turned to lead, but recovery runs are as much about consistency as they are about distance. The great news? My lower back is now proving to be the unsung hero of this training—handling the increased mileage with all the poise of a duck in water.

A Runner's Appetite Awakens

With the miles adding up, so too is my appetite. A marathon training diet demands balance, but let’s be honest—balancing hunger with healthy choices is a bit like herding cats. Thankfully, I’ve discovered a trusty ally in the form of Huel. Imagine a protein shake that went to university and got a degree in Nutritional Sciences—it’s the perfect meal replacement when time (or willpower) is short.

Huel has become a staple during the busy school day, offering a far better alternative to the usual canteen suspects: cheese-stuffed paninis and pepperoni pasta pots. Tempting? Yes. Supportive of marathon goals? About as much as a chocolate teapot.


Looking Ahead

Tomorrow brings a more challenging training run, and with it, the chance to push just a little further. For now, though, the focus is on recovery and keeping hunger at bay—because if there’s one thing this journey is teaching me, it’s that running a marathon isn’t just about training the legs, but the stomach too. Wish me luck!

Location: Sittingbourne, UK

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Day 117: The Countdown Begins – With Bubbles, Cable Cars and Freeze-Dried Yoghurts

-
Image
An Alarming Rest Day The first of my rest days arrived with the cheery chirp of a 6am alarm, because apparently, my brain hasn’t received the memo about the whole “rest” part. Still, there was a strange satisfaction in rising early knowing I didn’t have to pound the pavements today. That satisfaction was slightly dampened—much like the weather—by a particularly excitable pollen count. Despite the persistent drizzle, the air was clearly full of microscopic mischief. The antihistamines made their valiant appearance and were taken with gratitude and a mild grumble. A Journey Worth the Cable Car This afternoon marked one of the most exciting rituals in the London Marathon build-up: collecting my race number. It involved a drive to the O2 followed by the delightfully surreal experience of sailing across the Thames in a cable car, which felt a little bit like commuting in a Bond film if Bond wore Asics and carried a protein bar. Upon landing on the other side, the Excel centre welcomed me...
Read more

London Marathon 2025: The Final Chapter

-
Image
Morning Light and Marathon Dreams Today was the day I had been building towards for months. Every cold morning, every soaked pair of socks, every long, lonely run came down to this — London Marathon day. The alarm clock chirped far too early, but I was already half-awake, running through the plan for the day in my head. After polishing off two cinnamon and raisin bagels (because clearly one was not going to be enough) and a strong coffee, I packed up my bag of gels, SaltStick chews, and hope and we set off. The drive up to Blackheath was filled with that strange, electric mix of excitement and anxiety. My parents did their best to drop me as close to the start as they could and I waved them off with a grin that hid the fluttering nerves underneath. I made my way to the starting area, ticking off the necessary pre-race rituals — most importantly, joining the epic pilgrimage to the toilets, where I was reminded once again that there are few places in life where dignity is checked at t...
Read more

Day 30: Canterbury 10-Mile Race - A Yardstick for Progress

-
Image
The Morning Rush Sunday races always mean an early start, and today was no exception. Arriving in Canterbury at 8 am, I was immediately thrust into the trifecta of pre-race rituals: parking, collecting my race number, and navigating the inevitable toilet queue—an experience that can feel like an endurance event of its own. It was a bitterly cold morning, hovering around 2 degrees. Dressing appropriately for a race in such conditions is always a gamble: the first few minutes will chill you to your core, but once you’re moving, layers can become an unnecessary burden. After a quick, if not particularly effective, warm-up, I bumped into a friend, Ben Holliday, whose detailed analysis of local cricket diverted my attention from my frozen fingertips. Perhaps distraction really is the greatest warmth. The Race With over 1,200 participants, the start line was a jostling crowd, all shuffling for position like biscuits in a tin. The initial bunching, while slightly frustrating, provided some re...
Read more