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

An Alarming Rest Day The first of my rest days arrived with the cheery chirp of a 6am alarm, because apparently, my brain hasn’t received the memo about the whole “rest” part. Still, there was a strange satisfaction in rising early knowing I didn’t have to pound the pavements today. That satisfaction was slightly dampened—much like the weather—by a particularly excitable pollen count. Despite the persistent drizzle, the air was clearly full of microscopic mischief. The antihistamines made their valiant appearance and were taken with gratitude and a mild grumble. A Journey Worth the Cable Car This afternoon marked one of the most exciting rituals in the London Marathon build-up: collecting my race number. It involved a drive to the O2 followed by the delightfully surreal experience of sailing across the Thames in a cable car, which felt a little bit like commuting in a Bond film if Bond wore Asics and carried a protein bar. Upon landing on the other side, the Excel centre welcomed me...

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, today was a scheduled rest day—one of those delicious calendar entries that promises no running, no effort, and ideally, no guilt. They say rest days are where the real training happens and I am inclined to agree, especially when they involve minimal movement and maximum comfort. This one, in particular, came at just the right time. After staying up until around 1am to watch Rory McIlroy finally win the US Masters, it seemed only right that today was dedicated to horizontal living and low-level human functioning. When Breakfast Forgets to Happen I genuinely cannot remember the last time I skipped breakfast. I am someone who, even mid-run, will start planning my next meal with a sort of hopeful optimism. But this morning—or should I say late morning—breakfast somehow didn’t materialise. I stayed in bed for as long as the house would allow, navigating that delicate balance between enjoying the peace and ignoring the increasing calls from the children...

As expected—because sometimes life really does enjoy making us look clever in hindsight—I am still battling the remnants of a rather persistent cold. It’s the kind of cold that lingers like a dinner guest who doesn’t pick up on hints about the time. Running today was out of the question. After all, threshold runs and tempo workouts are tricky enough without the addition of violent coughing fits and the general sensation of having your lungs wrapped in sandpaper. Today should have been about rest and recovery. And yet, the universe had... other plans. Gladiators in the Wild (Also Known as Bluewater) You see, yesterday I discovered that the Gladiators—yes, those Gladiators, modern-day titans of TV—were making an appearance at Bluewater. Now, we live in a house where Gladiators is more than a show; it’s practically a religion, complete with chants, favourite contestants and small children attempting to elbow drop the furniture. Naturally, I told the girls we’d go. However, as with ...

Today marks Day 52 of my London Marathon 2025 training plan, and after yesterday's long run, it's a well-earned rest day. It also happens to be my first weekday off during the half-term holidays. As a teacher, that means finally tackling all those tasks that seem to gather in dark corners during term time, muttering ominously about deadlines. Medical Errands and Unexpected Perforations The morning began with a trip to the medical centre for routine blood tests, which, despite being perfectly planned, still involved the usual game of "Find a Vein That Works." The nurse, wielding a needle with the casual confidence of someone who could extract blood from a stone, managed it on the first attempt. Just as I was about to make my escape, I was unexpectedly ambushed by a flu jab. It turns out that medical centres operate on the same principle as certain types of salespeople—once they have you sitting down, they find something else to give you. The Art of Doing Nothing (Prope...