Day 109: Tempo, Taper and the Turning Point

Weathering the Shift

The countdown is getting serious now. With just under two weeks until race day, every run starts to carry a bit more weight, a few more questions and a lot more checking of the long-range forecast. Today, however, it wasn’t race day weather that caught me off guard—it was the sudden shift in the here and now. The morning arrived with a stubborn blanket of drizzle and the sort of damp that seeps into your enthusiasm as much as your socks.

With the rain showing no signs of packing up its things and leaving, I waited it out. Eventually, at 12:30pm, I set out for a tempo run—my first proper one in quite some time. Tempo sessions aren’t just about pace; they’re about mindset. They ask questions like “Can you keep this up?” and “Whose bright idea was this?” over and over again until your legs answer with action or rebellion. Fortunately today, they leaned toward action.

The Tempo Test
The run started with a 10-minute warm-up, gently navigating my way towards the Highsted Valley. It’s familiar ground now, but today it had that damp, cinematic quality—as if I was running through the establishing shot of a mystery film. Once warmed, the work began: 24 minutes at a strong, controlled effort, aiming to keep my heart rate around 160bpm. This sat me firmly between 10k and half marathon pace—the zone where your breath becomes musical, in the sense that it follows no discernible rhythm and has several dramatic high notes.

In a moment that can only be described as either bold or bewildering, I decided to include Stockers Hill in the route. Because why not? Every now and then, you’ve got to test the engine on a steep incline to remind yourself it's still got grunt. It’s a climb I know well, but when you meet it during a tempo effort, it feels like it’s grown at least three new humps and possibly a moat. Still, I held pace, crested the top, and felt—dare I say it—strong.

Signs of Life in the Legs
Perhaps the best surprise of the day wasn’t how I handled the hill, but how my legs handled everything. There was a noticeable absence of the usual post-run grumbling. No sharp reminders in the calves. No stiff protests from the quads. I put this down to the rest day yesterday—proof that sometimes the best training choice is to do absolutely nothing, but do it very deliberately.

This run also felt like confirmation that the tapering strategy is kicking in right on time. There’s a strange sort of freshness beginning to return, like spotting a daffodil in a car park or realising you’ve actually caught up with your laundry—it’s unexpected, but deeply satisfying. I know tapering will bring its own kind of madness, where less running somehow makes you feel more tired, but today gave me confidence that my body is getting ready to peak at just the right moment.

Osteopath’s Final Word
I rounded off the day with one last visit to the osteopath. This has been an essential part of my training journey—quietly helping my body stay in one piece while I ask it to keep doing things it might not have entirely agreed to. Today, though, I was signed off with a clean bill of health. My back, which just a couple of weeks ago was stubbornly refusing to let me walk without wincing, now seems content. There was a moment not long ago where I genuinely questioned whether I’d make the start line at all. That uncertainty has now been replaced with something far more valuable: momentum.

Keeping the Faith
So, from here on, it’s eyes forward and feet (mostly) off the accelerator. The plan is working. The miles are in the bank. The body is responding. And the legs are beginning to trust the process again.

Of course, the voice in the back of my head still reminds me of everything that could go wrong on race day. But I’m learning to nod politely, thank it for its input and lace up my shoes anyway. After all, every long journey needs a few questionable advisors along the way—it just makes the ending more satisfying.