"London Marathon 2025: Getting in Shape Again for the Ultimate Running Challenge!"

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 Hi...

Heavy Legs and Light Ambitions After the longer run yesterday, I woke up today with legs that felt like they’d spent the night reconsidering their life choices. Walking to the bathroom was less a movement and more a negotiation between willpower and gravity – and gravity, it turns out, is a very persistent negotiator. On the schedule this morning was a 35-minute base run, intended to ease the muscles back into action gently, like a friendly nudge from someone who wants you to jog but doesn’t want to get punched for suggesting it. I set out early, as usual, in the half-light of morning where only runners, foxes and questionable life decisions roam. The run itself was uneventful, apart from the ongoing commentary from my legs, which could be summed up as “are we really doing this?” Still, the base pace did its job. Things loosened up over time, albeit in the same way a stubborn jar lid eventually gives in — with a sense of begrudging resignation. By the end, I was grateful for the shor...

A Brief Interlude of Indoor Rain I promised an update after yesterday’s unexpected experiment in indoor waterfalls and here it is: the situation was sufficiently dire to warrant an overnight hotel stay. Apparently, a house without a working toilet is officially uninhabitable, though I must admit I would have reached that conclusion slightly sooner than our insurance provider did. Every flood has a silver lining, though and in this case, it came in the form of a rather excellent cooked breakfast. The emergency plumber was summoned and after much investigation and muttered incantations, the culprit was found lurking in the wall between the wardrobe and the ensuite shower. Water, as it turns out, is alarmingly ambitious when given the opportunity to go places it shouldn’t.  It spread with all the grace of an overturned bucket, even taking out my three-piece suit collection—an attack on my very professional identity! The water is back on now, but the real battle begins: the clash of ti...

A Rejuvenating Start This morning, I awoke with just that little bit more about me, as if my muscles had finally accepted their lot in life. Last night’s bath had clearly worked some magic, leaving me feeling less like a bundle of twigs held together by sheer willpower. The schedule presented me with another base run, which was a welcome sight. The growing daylight made the whole affair rather enjoyable—if one can ever truly enjoy running before breakfast. It was not as cold as yesterday, a small mercy, though the thermometer still had the audacity to hover at a brisk 5 degrees Celsius. The hat and gloves remain my reluctant but necessary companions. There is a fine balance between looking ridiculous and feeling warm, and I have long since made my choice. A Rare and Welcome Lull The rest of the day was, mercifully, uneventful. These are the days one learns to appreciate, the moments of stillness between the more demanding ones. A bit of mental recovery accompanied last night’s bath-ind...

After a tough day yesterday, I was determined to make today count. By 5:30 am, I was up and out the door, laces double-knotted with the kind of determination usually reserved for people trying to get the last seat on a delayed train. My run started just after 6 am and, for a change, today’s session was all about speed. The Sprint Session The plan was simple but effective: 3 x 15-second sprints with a three-minute recovery in between. After that, a five-minute rest, and then repeating the cycle twice more, making a total of three rounds. Given that the roads around The Math School seem to be designed by someone who really enjoyed drawing rollercoasters, I planned my route carefully. I found the flattest stretch of road nearby, ensuring that I could get the best possible speed without having to fight gravity in both directions. It turned out to be a good session and I can already tell that this kind of training will be invaluable. Sprinting may not seem like the most obvious component of...

Well, here we are at Day 42 of the London Marathon 2025 training plan. The number itself feels significant—something about the answer to life, the universe, and, in my case, why on earth I thought running 26.2 miles would be a good idea. Friday mornings are always a battle, and today was no exception. After a long week at work, the siren call of the snooze button was almost irresistible, but somehow, I managed to drag myself out of bed at 5 am and make my way to Rochester for today's session. The Dreaded Threshold Run Today’s challenge was a threshold run, a session I have developed a particular aversion to. It’s not the distance or even the route, but the sustained effort that makes these runs feel like a prolonged negotiation between mind and body—one in which the body strongly objects but ultimately concedes. My Garmin Forerunner 955, ever the bearer of harsh truths, confirmed that these sessions are a relentless test of both physical ability and mental resilience. The goal: a 1...

An Early Start As I mentioned yesterday, my plan for this morning was to embark upon the longest pre-work run that I have ever done—whether in marathon training or otherwise. To make it work, I had to be at school by 5:45 am, giving myself enough time to get ready and have breakfast before the school day began. Arriving before even the site team was there felt strange. The school, usually bustling, was eerily quiet and locked up. Luckily, I only needed to park my car before setting off. There’s something slightly unsettling about arriving somewhere before the people who are supposed to unlock the doors. It’s like arriving at a ghost town that hasn’t quite got the memo about being abandoned—quiet, unsettling and making you question your life choices. Finding My Way I started my run towards the M2 Medway Bridge footpath, crossing over into Strood. This is a route I’ve tackled a few times before, and I reached the familiarity of Rochester Bridge in good time. But then came the tricky part...

Well, here we are at Day 38 of the London Marathon 2025 training plan. This morning featured a 5 am rise—not strictly necessary for a 40-minute run, but a useful exercise in conditioning my body for the early starts ahead. There’s something oddly reassuring about being awake before even the most enthusiastic morning birds have started their complaints about the cold. Training is, after all, about balance: work, life and the perpetual quest for more sleep. Slippery Slopes and Careful Steps The temperature has taken another nosedive and the ground was less than cooperative. Any downhill sections required the kind of careful foot placement usually reserved for tightrope walkers or people trying to quietly sneak past a sleeping cat. With icy patches keeping me on my toes—sometimes quite literally—I had to take it easy where I’d usually enjoy a carefree descent. Today's session was a threshold run, featuring one 17-minute effort at around 165 bpm. Not the easiest target to hit when ever...

A Test of Speed and Sanity As promised, today’s training took a significant upward turn—both in effort and in sheer stubbornness. It was time to shake things up with an anaerobic-focused run, stretching to a full hour. Nothing says ‘commitment’ like voluntarily gasping for breath before sunrise. After a thorough warm-up, I launched into the main event: seven one-minute intervals at a blistering 4:30 min/km pace. For those unfamiliar with this kind of suffering, that’s about a minute per kilometre faster than my usual 10k pace—so, essentially, the sort of speed that makes your legs file an official complaint with the management. Recovery periods of three minutes in between allowed my heart rate to return to something vaguely human while lactic acid was politely escorted from my muscles. This high-speed torture is proving invaluable for improving my top-end pace, even if it occasionally makes me reconsider all my life choices. Into the Darkness, Literally With the run stretching longer, ...

The Ongoing Battle Against the Sleep Monster Day 11 of training, and the battle against the sleep monster continues! Much like the calamity of Day 10, when my alarm clock was thoroughly ignored, waking up at 5:15 am remains a Herculean task. I suspect my duvet is plotting against me, much like a minor household conspiracy. A Chilly Morning Run Along the River This morning’s run was a 43-minute effort at a standard training pace—a comfortable 30 seconds per kilometre slower than my planned marathon pace. The route wound its way along the Rochester Esplanade, a picturesque stretch following the River Medway. Despite the threat of snow lurking ominously in the forecast, the weather held back, leaving me with a bone-chilling but mercifully dry run. It’s the kind of cold that convinces you your nose has taken up ice sculpture as a hobby. Early Starts and Winter Challenges While the crisp air was invigorating, the real challenge continues to be dragging myself out of bed. Training during the...

It’s Day 10 of my London Marathon 2025 training, and I’ve hit what can only be described as a wall of reality – the sort of wall that doesn’t politely step aside when you approach but stands there smirking, arms crossed, daring you to wake up at 5:15 am. After two blissful weeks of holiday mode – late nights, leisurely mornings, and alarm clocks gathering dust – my body decided to stage a mutiny against the return of discipline. The Alarm That Wasn’t In fact, the mutiny was so effective that I managed to sleep right through my alarm and woke up at the far more civilised hour of 6 am. Clearly, my subconscious had concluded that holiday lie-ins weren’t quite ready to vacate the premises. Still, I’m counting this as a minor victory: I did wake up eventually, and that’s half the battle, right? A Gentle Start Mercifully, the training gods smiled upon me today, serving up a 22-minute recovery run on the schedule. After the shock of returning to early mornings (or not-so-early, in today’s ca...