Day 116: Tapering, Treacle Mornings and the Final Few Steps

Back to work today. The alarm went off at 5am, with all the grace and charm of a fire drill in a monastery. I lay there for a moment, blinking into the darkness, wondering which life decisions had brought me to this precise point—specifically, the one where I willingly agreed to run 26.2 miles through London in front of thousands of people with questionable signage. But up I got, limbs creaking into motion like a badly written spell trying to animate a skeleton.

Getting dressed in the early morning chill felt like an act of silent defiance. Coffee helped. A lot. And by the time I reached work—just after sunrise—I’d managed to transition from “shambling spectre” to “functioning human.” There’s something oddly comforting about watching the world wake up while you’re already moving. The streets were quiet, the sky streaked with soft pinks and golds and for a few peaceful minutes, it felt like the universe was tiptoeing into Tuesday right alongside me.

The Most Uneventful Run in Human History

The run itself was... uneventful. Painfully, gloriously uneventful. I took it slowly, deliberately, a gentle descent down the hill and a winding, meandering climb back up the other side. It was less of a run and more of a meander with commitment. I wasn't chasing a time. I wasn’t chasing anything. In fact, I’m fairly sure at one point, a leaf overtook me.

But there was clarity in the quiet. Somewhere between the down and the up, I made a decision: I'm done. Not with the marathon, obviously. That’s still coming. But with the training. I’ve crossed the finish line of preparation. Everything now is about preservation, not progress.

So I’m elevating my tapering. Super-tapering, if you will. I’m taking the next three days off from running entirely. No intervals, no tempo runs, no hill sprints. The hay is in the barn. The crops are harvested. The farmer has taken his boots off and is sitting down with a bowl of spaghetti and a smug expression.

Why the Rest Matters More Than the Miles

It’s always a strange mental switch—the idea that rest is not just okay, but necessary. The taper isn’t laziness in disguise; it’s strategy. And this week, that strategy includes sleep. The first week back after a holiday is never kind to sleep patterns—late nights become early mornings, routines get crumpled, and the alarm clock becomes an adversary rather than an ally.

I’ve felt it today: the fogginess, the slight edge of fatigue that doesn’t quite leave. And in the final stretch before a marathon, that simply won’t do. So this little break from running isn’t just physical—it’s tactical. It’s about getting into bed early, getting real rest and letting my body knit itself back together in time for Sunday.

Let the Carb Loading Commence

The other half of this master plan is, of course, the sacred ritual of carb loading. Over the next few days, I will be transforming into a one-man tribute to pasta. Rice, bread, potatoes—come forth. I shall embrace you all in the name of glycogen replenishment. If someone doesn't stop me, I may begin evangelising about the humble bagel’s spiritual connection to endurance sport.

I might go out for a short loosener on Saturday, just enough to check the legs are still there and functioning. But beyond that? The miles are done. The work is complete. This final stretch is about trusting what I’ve built over the last four months.

Looking Ahead

There’s a strange calm settling in now. The kind that comes when the map ends and all that’s left is to walk it. I’ve trained through dark mornings, sore legs, long runs and self-doubt. And now, at last, it’s time to rest, refuel, and remember why I started this in the first place.

Sunday is coming. I’ll be ready.

And if not, well—I’m sure I’ll at least look good doing it. That counts for something.