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

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...

Some days, training feels like an uphill battle. Other days, it feels like you’ve been politely but firmly escorted off the battlefield entirely. Today was one of those days. The Morning Mishap My alarm clock, which has one job, decided today was the day it would explore a more interpretive approach to timekeeping. The result? I woke too late for my planned morning run. No problem, I thought. It’s Friday—I’ll just run after work. A minor inconvenience, but manageable. The Afternoon Disaster This is the part of the story where fate, having been briefly ignored, reasserts itself with enthusiasm. Kelly rang me in the afternoon with news that is never good: water was coming through the living room ceiling. If there is a phrase more likely to strike fear into the heart of a homeowner, I have yet to hear it. And so, my post-work run was immediately downgraded from ‘essential training’ to ‘not even in the top ten most pressing concerns of the day.’ The priority instead became finding the stop...

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...

Spring is Here… Allegedly It’s the 5th of March, and spring is on its way. The early daffodils have started their annual battle with the elements, bravely pushing their little green heads up to greet the world. The afternoons are beginning to feel warm, and for the first time in months, I’m starting to run in daylight. A promising sign, you’d think. And yet, at 6am, as I laced up my trainers and stepped out for my run, I was greeted with a less-than-welcoming -1°C. British weather, it seems, has all the consistency of a plumber’s estimate Frozen Face, Warm Legs Setting off down the hill for what was meant to be a gentle base run, I was immediately met with a wind that had apparently received training in face-slapping techniques back in January. It was an uncomfortably cold start, but thankfully, I warmed up quickly and settled into the rhythm of an easy run. Nothing too strenuous, just a steady effort to loosen up the legs, which have been feeling a little worse for wear over the last ...

Threshold, Again? After yesterday’s rest day, I was straight back into a threshold run this morning. At this point, it feels like every other session is a threshold run. Perhaps someone is playing a cruel joke, or perhaps my training plan is simply designed by someone with a deep and abiding belief in suffering. Two seven-minute efforts at 165 bpm—around 85% of my max heart rate—made for a truly punishing start to the day. It was early, I was tired, and my brain apparently decided to opt out of the experience entirely. I don’t remember much of the run, but I can only assume I completed it because I’m still here to complain about it. The Day That Wasn't The rest of the day passed in a blur. I know I taught lessons. I know I did other work. But beyond that? No idea. It was one of those days where time moved forward, but I wasn’t particularly involved in the process. Even making pancakes for the girls in the evening—usually a fun, if slightly chaotic, event—felt like an exercise in en...

As you can imagine, after the trials and tribulations of yesterday's 16-mile run, I took today off. It was a great run, but my body has been quietly lodging complaints in some unexpected places. My neck, for instance, has decided it was part of the run and I’ve been accompanied all day by a mild but persistent headache. Apparently, even my head feels the need to recover from all that effort. The Importance of Rest Days Taking a rest day is a crucial part of marathon training. With the marathon now just over two months away, it’s tempting to think that every possible mile should be logged. However, excessive training can be detrimental—overtraining is the overenthusiastic cousin of exhaustion, the sort who insists they’re fine right up until they pass out face-first into their porridge. While pushing yourself is essential, giving the body time to repair is just as important. The Unexpected Aftermath of a Long Run Despite my best efforts to stay hydrated, today has been a reminder th...

A Sudden Change of Plan Long run day arrived, and with it, the scheduled three-hour test of endurance. Last night’s carb-loading pasta fest had been in preparation for a straightforward session, but then Kelly—who has a habit of making excellent suggestions—proposed a change. Rather than a generic loop, why not run from Sittingbourne to Whitstable? It was an idea that had served me well in both 2019 and 2023 training blocks, so it seemed sensible to repeat it. After all, tradition is just peer pressure from people of the past and I wasn’t about to argue with my past self. The Steady Plod Along the A2 I set off at 8:30 am, armed with my trusty Camelbak, energy gels and an emergency supply of anti-chafe balm—because the road to regret is paved with poor preparation. The familiar stretch along the A2 took me through Bapchild, Teynham and onwards toward Faversham. The gentle undulations of the route provided an opportunity to focus on steady pacing rather than unnecessary heroics. Reaching...

A Well-Earned Rest (and a Lot of Pizza) Last night, I took the advice of my friend Paul Harris and did something revolutionary: I put my feet up and ate pizza. A full 14-inch pizza, in fact, inhaled at a speed that would make a competitive eater nod approvingly. I can confirm that this was excellent training—though not for running. That said, it seemed to do me some good, as I slept well and woke up feeling refreshed. With Polly’s football not on this morning, I had the rare luxury of a slow start and the freedom to choose an afternoon run. Anaerobic Adventures and an Unexpected Twinge Today's session was an anaerobic workout featuring 10 x 40-second efforts at a pace that could best be described as “uncomfortably enthusiastic.” It was certainly faster than my 5k speed, probably closer to a 1-mile effort—otherwise known as “the pace you regret after 200 metres.” Each burst was followed by a three-minute recovery, during which I permitted myself a little walking to get my heart rate...

The Return of Daylight (Sort Of) This morning’s run brought with it the reassuring sight of daylight creeping back into the early hours. Setting off just after 6 am in Rochester near The Math School, I was greeted by a sky turning a promising shade of blue. However, while the sun may have been making a grand return, the temperature had clearly missed the memo. With the mercury barely nudging past 1 degree Celsius, it was the sort of cold that made a warm bed seem like the better athlete in this scenario. Sprints, Slopes, and Strides The session itself was a tough one: 9 x 10-second sprints, each followed by a 3-minute recovery to ensure that maximal effort could be thrown into every burst of speed. Given that the terrain around The Math School is distinctly lumpy, maintaining a smooth stride was occasionally more of a theoretical exercise than a practical one. A couple of times, I had to make minor adjustments mid-sprint, which my legs have since filed under “things to complain about l...

The Art of Suffering Before Sunrise Another early start saw me up at 5 am, lacing up my trainers in the kind of darkness that suggests even the sun has better things to do. Rochester awaited, and after yesterday’s much-needed rest day, today’s session called for a 19-minute hard effort at a heart rate of around 165 bpm. Nothing quite says “good morning” like willingly launching yourself into oxygen debt before most people have found their slippers. A Lesson in Fuelling (or, How to Avoid Running on Empty) Threshold runs are designed to test both physical endurance and mental fortitude, a bit like arguing with a particularly stubborn parrot. Lately, I’ve found these morning sessions a struggle, my energy levels suspiciously similar to those of an old mobile phone—full charge at bedtime, mysteriously down to 2% by morning. In an effort to combat this, I tried taking an energy gel just before the run. The result? A slight improvement, but it became clear that my timing was off. The gel’s b...

Today marked Day 61 of my London Marathon 2025 training and after a series of runs, a rest day was definitely in order. I managed a slightly later start to the day, though perhaps not quite as late as I truly desired. I still made my way to Rochester to prepare for work. It's funny how even on days when I'm not running, I adhere to my routine of showering and getting ready at work; doing so at home feels strangely disruptive—as though my morning self simply refuses to function without the structure of a commute. The Guilt Factor A common theme on rest days is the feeling of guilt. With the marathon now just over two months away, this feeling is amplified. It’s a struggle to dismiss the thought that I should be out there, logging miles and pushing my limits. However, wisdom lies in acknowledging that excessive training can be detrimental. Overtraining is, after all, the enthusiastic cousin of exhaustion. While pushing during training is essential, allowing the body adequate time...

After a better night's sleep, I was up at 5 am, feeling far more refreshed and motivated than yesterday. The knowledge that today's session wouldn't involve a threshold run certainly helped to put a bit more of a spring in my step. My ever-faithful Garmin, a device that occasionally feels more like a demanding personal trainer than a watch, treated me to a sprints session in Rochester. I set off with something resembling enthusiasm, though I was aware that by the end, it might more accurately be described as grim determination. The Sprint Plan and the Curious Case of Uphill Running The plan itself was straightforward enough: 9 x 15-second efforts spread over a 45-minute session. I tackled three sprints with three-minute recoveries between them, focusing on maintaining form and actually resembling a runner rather than a flailing scarecrow. After a longer five-minute recovery run, I repeated the cycle twice more. These sessions are invaluable for building speed and power, so ...

A Rocky Start Today began with all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates. Sleep and I were not on speaking terms last night, thanks to an ill-advised Dr Pepper at Five Guys. Caffeine and I have an understanding—specifically, that I should avoid it after midday unless I want to spend the night engaging in a staring contest with the ceiling. Every half hour, I was jolted awake, as though my body had a secret agreement to check if the alarm had gone off yet. When it finally did—at 5am—it was, unsurprisingly, unwelcome. Dragging myself out of bed, I got ready for my planned morning run in Rochester, only to be met with weather that could best be described as ‘atmospheric catastrophe.’ Running in the rain is one thing, but running in whatever that was felt like a direct challenge from the universe. Begrudgingly, I postponed my run until after work—something I rarely enjoy but had to accept, as I reminded myself that back in 2019, nearly all my marathon training happened after work. The Th...

I'm writing today's post under the shadow of the great arch of Wembley Stadium, where history has been made, dreams have been shattered, and—more importantly—where I am currently nursing a coffee in a rather cramped Pret a Manger. The girls are off enjoying Disney on Ice at Wembley Arena and I am making the most of my waiting time, valiantly trying to make this coffee last long enough to justify my table occupancy. There’s a Five Guys just around the corner, which is whispering sweet promises of burgers and fries for dinner and I am beginning to think resistance is futile. The Case of the Unravelling Trainer This morning’s long run was always going to be a squeeze thanks to today’s trip to Wembley, but I managed to get out early, following a route that could soon become my usual—down into the Highsted Valley and up towards Milstead. The air was crisp, the roads were quiet, and everything was going smoothly until I noticed a strange sensation underfoot. It felt as though my tra...

The Reluctant Start Some days, stepping out the door for a run is an act of sheer enthusiasm. Today was not one of those days. The lingering effects of yesterday’s double threshold session clung to me like an overenthusiastic relative at a family reunion. My legs, in particular, were staging a quiet protest, demonstrating all the flexibility and responsiveness of a pair of ancient oak trees. It took until the afternoon before the rest of me joined in on the idea that running was, in fact, happening. The Stockers Hill Question The plan for today was a 55-minute base run, and I set off towards Highsted Valley with the vague notion of letting the route decide itself. Of course, this meant that the route, being a fickle and slightly malevolent entity, led me to the bottom of Stockers Hill. At this point, the sensible thing to do would have been to turn around and choose a gentler incline. Naturally, I did not do the sensible thing. Stockers Hill is one of those climbs that seems to stretch...

The Run That Shall Not Be Named As I mentioned at the end of yesterday’s post, today’s run filled me with nothing short of dread. The infamous double threshold run loomed ahead, and, quite frankly, I wasn’t ready to face it. Threshold runs are already my least favourite—if running sessions were a royal court, the threshold run would be the one lurking in the shadows, grinning with far too many teeth. And yet, my ever-faithful Garmin, in its infinite wisdom, informed me this morning that today’s plan involved not one, but two of these efforts. I simply wasn’t in the mental space to accept this reality. So, I engaged in a well-practised coping mechanism: denial. I ignored it, carried on with my morning, and enjoyed a lovely lunch with Kelly and Emilia. We laughed, we ate and for a blissful while, I pretended my running shoes didn’t exist. But, as with all inevitabilities, I had to face my fate eventually. Into the Fire (Twice!) Knowing that a flat route would give me the best chance o...

I woke up this morning and, for once, my training plan promised a relatively easy day. This was just as well, since my knee had recently taken up a new hobby: mild rebellion. Nothing too dramatic, just enough to make me treat it with the caution usually reserved for a sleeping cat on a lap—one wrong move and it would make its displeasure very clear. The Perils of Delivery Times A run was scheduled for today, but I decided to wait for my new ice pack to arrive first. This, in theory, would allow me to run with the comforting knowledge that I could immediately strap it on afterwards, rather than having to do the usual precarious balancing act with a standard ice block. However, Amazon had other ideas. The estimated delivery time drifted further into the distance like a mirage, and I was left with a choice: postpone my run entirely or head out and test the knee, hoping it wouldn’t stage a full mutiny. A Test Run (Literally) In the end, I opted for a gentle 30-minute run to see how things ...

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 Cinematic Warm-Up Today came in two distinct parts, mirroring the varied demands of marathon training itself. First, family time! A trip to The Light Cinema in Sittingbourne was in order to watch the highly anticipated Dog Man . While perhaps not an Oscar contender—unless they introduce a category for ‘Most Enthusiastic Use of Woof’—it was good fun, complete with the essential cinema staples: a hot dog and some pick and mix. Whether pick and mix counts as proper pre-run fuelling is debatable, but it certainly boosted the spirits. One could argue that jelly sweets provide quick-release energy, but that argument might hold less weight when also accompanied by a fizzy cola bottle sugar crash. Thresholds and Small Victories As late afternoon approached, the looming run demanded attention: the dreaded threshold run. There’s something about knowing a hard effort is imminent that makes even the most mundane distractions—tidying a sock drawer, reorganising a bookshelf—suddenly very compellin...

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...

Today marked Day 51 of my London Marathon 2025 training plan, and it was time for a two-hour long run. As it was a Sunday, I had the rare luxury of a civilised start time—10:15 am—rather than the usual crack-of-dawn madness. The weather was on my side too, a dry February morning that practically invited me to explore the countryside around Sittingbourne. The Road to Milstead (and a Breakfast I Didn't Have) My route began with a steady climb through Highsted valley, leading towards Milstead. It’s the kind of hill that doesn’t look too intimidating until your legs politely suggest otherwise. As I ran through Milstead, the Red Lion pub caught my eye. It was open. It was serving breakfasts. The rich, inviting scent of bacon drifted towards me, whispering all sorts of deliciously bad ideas. But I stayed strong, reminding myself that full English breakfasts and long-distance running are not, in fact, close friends. Milstead, for those unfamiliar, is a picturesque village in the borough o...

Today marked the start of a well-earned nine-day break, and I made the most of the chance to enjoy a slightly longer lie-in before the day's events got underway. A morning without an alarm is one of life's simple pleasures—like finding an extra crisp at the bottom of the bag, but with fewer calories and more satisfaction. Family and Football The morning began with a trip to football, where Polly put in a great performance and was delighted to be named "Top Banana" for one of her matches. Her excitement was contagious, making the chilly morning on the sidelines well worth it. Adventure Golf in Margate After football, we headed to Margate for a round of indoor adventure golf with friends. The competitive spirit was high, and while my putting skills were questionable at best, the laughter and good company made up for any lost dignity. Scorekeeping may have been slightly optimistic in some cases, but no one was keeping too close an eye on the numbers. Sprint Session: Chas...

A Slightly More Civilised Start Another day, another threshold run, and while I’m not sure I’ll ever enjoy them, today’s session at least had a minor variation: a slightly later start. Thanks to staff training, I wasn’t dragged into the predawn darkness at quite my usual hour, and rising at 5:30am almost felt luxurious. Almost. The plan was simple on paper—three six-minute efforts, keeping my heart rate between 165-170 bpm. A straightforward task, surely? But, as with so many things in life, what looks manageable from a distance has an entirely different character up close. The Heart Rate Hokey Cokey The first interval started smoothly enough, but very quickly, I was reminded why threshold runs occupy a special place in my personal hall of suffering. The battle to keep my heart rate within the required range was relentless. Too slow, and my Garmin let out a disapproving beep; too fast, and I risked tipping over into anaerobic madness. It was less of a run and more of an ongoing negotia...

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...

A 5 AM Start and a Dreaded Run As promised, the 5 am alarm meant I was up and out early, travelling to work in Rochester before embarking on today's threshold run. These sessions are fast becoming my least favourite, sitting somewhere between dental surgery and attempting to fold a fitted sheet on the scale of enjoyable experiences. Today’s ordeal consisted of a 17-minute hard effort, maintaining a heart rate of around 165 bpm—a challenge that never fails to make me question my life choices. The cold weather certainly didn't help. My body, quite sensibly, did not want to get moving, but needs must. The first downhill section was where I noticed my improved fitness from the last six weeks. I wasn’t working as hard as I used to on the descent, which was a clear sign of progress—but also meant I had to adapt my route to make sure I hit the right effort level. Enter Maidstone Road, with its reliable uphill section towards The Math School. This, predictably, did the trick. My heart ...