Day 107: The Shift to Trust

Two weeks. That’s all that stands between me and the start line of the 2025 London Marathon. My training plan has now turned a corner—gone are the drawn-out endurance runs where time stretches like cheap elastic. In their place? Base level runs: shorter, steady, and kinder to the joints, muscles, and any other parts of me that regularly file complaints.

It’s a bit of a sore point (quite literally) that I lost two weeks of training. First, illness. Then, a back injury that felt like it had ambitions of its own. Because of this, the classic 20-mile training run—the holy grail for many marathoners—remained firmly in the realm of dreams and myths, like unicorns or affordable petrol.

But, as with all things marathon-related, there’s no absolute truth. Some plans demand a 20-miler, others call it unnecessary. I’ve spoken to runners of all stripes—marathoners, ultrarunners, strange mystical ironfolk—each with their own wisdom. And almost all of them agree on one thing: speed work and interval training matter. Luckily, those have been the backbone of my training, even if the rest of my body occasionally felt like it was turning to jelly around the spine.

Running on Faith (and Firmware)

So today, instead of chasing hours of pavement-pounding, I ran for 1 hour and 5 minutes, as instructed by my Garmin Forerunner 955. It might sound strange to entrust my training to a device that spends half its time reminding me to hydrate and the other half judging my sleep patterns, but I’m trusting the process. This plan—this digital gospel of fitness—has brought me this far.

The route was familiar but with a slight twist: into Bapchild, through Rodmersham, and a gentle turn left towards the tiny, postcard-worthy hamlet of Dungate before heading back. The sky was a clear blue, the sun made a welcome appearance, and the English countryside looked as though it had just been freshly ironed for a National Trust brochure.

There’s something magical about falling into that unbreakable rhythm—uphill, downhill, it doesn’t seem to matter. Your legs find the pace, your mind drifts, and suddenly it all feels... right. Except for the occasional reminder from my back that it, too, has opinions. Nine consecutive days of running probably deserve a small medal and a larger rest. Tomorrow, I’ll finally give it what it wants: a well-earned day off.

Baths, Backaches and Birdies

I returned home feeling tired in the best way possible. The kind of tired that earns a long soak in a hot bath, a handful of stretching groans, and the pleasure of putting my feet up to watch the final round of the US Masters.

With just 14 days to go, the training now becomes more about maintaining, trusting, and believing—not unlike hoping that your garden gnome might one day win a staring contest. The hard work has been done. Now it’s time to let it settle and carry me through.