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

It is very almost here. One day to go. The eve of the London Marathon. One more night’s sleep – although I use the word sleep in its loosest possible sense – and then it’s time. 120 days of preparation, 120 days of early alarms, sore legs, stubborn weather and occasional negotiations with muscles that would have preferred a quiet sit down instead, have brought me to this point. It has been a long, twisting road: early morning get-ups when the world was still dark and grumpy, runs that went on longer than sanity strictly allows, strange food choices that had me seriously questioning my life decisions and stretches of illness and injury where simply tying my shoelaces felt like a competitive sport. But through it all, the mission was simple: prepare . And despite everything, prepare I have. Tomorrow, 26.2 miles of London streets await me. It looks set to be a warm, sunny spring day, the sort that will lift the heart and melt the legs at roughly mile 20. But that’s tomorrow’s challen...

The Elusive Concept of a Lie-In With the pressure of last week’s early start behind me, today’s long run came with a rare and glorious luxury: a slightly more relaxed morning. Now, any parent knows that “waking naturally” is a mythical event, usually accompanied by small feet in the ribs or a panicked shout about missing socks. Nevertheless, I managed what passes for a gentle start, complete with a toasted bagel and a cup of coffee brewed with the reverence it deserves—i.e., strong enough to wake the dead or at least mildly prod them. Off into the Green The weather was kind, the sun giving everything that warm glow which makes you momentarily forget that your legs are about to spend over an hour questioning your life choices. Setting out through the gentle countryside around Sittingbourne, I felt immediately at ease—legs ticking over nicely, heart rate nestled contentedly in the right range, and pace hovering around what I imagine (or hope, perhaps delusionally) will be marathon da...

The Art of Listening to Knees Today marked Day 54 of the London Marathon 2025 training plan and with yesterday’s knee pain still lingering like an unwelcome guest at a party that ended an hour ago, today's run was a cautious 30-minute outing. The schedule suggested a longer run, but sometimes wisdom is knowing when to ignore a piece of paper. Overtraining leads to injury and while some runners pride themselves on pushing through pain, they rarely win medals for stubbornness. A Scenic Tour of the Industrial Estate The run itself was a steady base run around the nearby industrial estate. Base runs are about maintaining a comfortable pace, building endurance, and, in my case, dodging delivery vans with a questionable sense of direction. They serve as a reminder that progress isn’t always dramatic; sometimes, it’s just another quiet step in the right direction. My knee, meanwhile, is still offering occasional twinges of protest. Ice packs and elevation will hopefully keep things in che...

A Promising Yet Perilous Start Today marked a significant turning point in my London Marathon 2025 training. Unlike the measured pace of previous runs, this morning presented my first genuine long run—a solitary test of endurance that challenged both body and mind. The weather was determined to be as dour as the forecast promised, with a persistent drizzle that lent the day a certain grim ambience. Even the early morning light seemed hesitant, as though nature itself was uncertain whether to encourage my efforts or merely watch in bemusement. A Gruelling Solo Effort I embarked on my journey at 8:30 am, following my regular route along the A2 towards Teynham and then Faversham. What was intended to be a steady two-hour run quickly transformed into an arduous battle against both physical fatigue and an almost conspiratorial weather. The remnants of yesterday’s indulgence in meat left me feeling unusually heavy—each step felt as if I were wading through a particularly stubborn kind of tre...

After yesterday's much-needed rest day, which ended with a hot bath so infused with Epsom salts it could have doubled as a witches' brew, I laced up my trainers this morning for a 33-minute base run. The route was my usual: a trot down the hill followed by the long, steady climb back up. The weather, however, decided to remind me that marathon training is not for the faint-hearted. As I started my run, a drizzle began, quickly escalating into rain that could only be described as "enthusiastic." If there’s one thing rain teaches you, it’s humility—or at least how to distinguish between a puddle and what suspiciously resembles a small lake. Yet, despite the soggy socks and a wind that whispered unkind words in my ear, I felt surprisingly good. My legs and back, the usual suspects when it comes to post-run grumbles, seemed appeased, possibly thanks to the Epsom salt soak. I can’t say I fully believe in their magical properties, but whatever the reason, I’m not about to a...

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...

Today, I found myself walking the delicate tightrope between gentle movement and necessary rest, all while gearing up for tomorrow’s Canterbury 10-mile race. It’s almost like a dress rehearsal, only with more mud and fewer costumes. A Morning of Family Triumph The day began in a rather muddy field—one of those places where shoes go to become permanent residents of the swamp. I was there to watch Polly at her football training. She’s an absolute force, channelling the determination of someone five times her age, while still managing to make a lot of adorable mistakes. But her commitment shone through, and she was named one of the players of the week! The trophy she received was practically glowing with pride. Of course, it could have been the sunlight reflecting off her beaming face, but who’s counting? It’s moments like these that remind me why the little victories in life are just as sweet as the big ones. A Short Base Run After the morning’s excitement, I laced up my running shoes an...

Another morning, another recovery run and another day closer to the London Marathon 2025. It’s been six days in a row now that I’ve been hitting the pavements and my body is certainly letting me know about it. The Recovery Run Today’s recovery run was a gentle one, taking me down Maidstone Road, through the historic Vines, and then back up the hill. The route was peaceful, and I kept the pace light—a session designed to soothe rather than strain. It’s during these moments that I feel almost serene, like I’m gliding (albeit with all the grace of a slightly arthritic duck). However, the true challenge doesn’t lie in the run itself but in the hours that follow. That’s when the aches set in—a reminder that marathon training isn’t all runner’s highs and endorphin-fueled euphoria. The Balancing Act Marathon training is a dance between pushing your body to grow stronger and giving it time to recover. The temptation to skip rest days is strong, but that’s a path paved with injury. Every traini...

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...