It's official and certified.

I got my certificate through this week, final absolute proof that a month ago I spent five and a half hours running round London for who knows what reasons.

Quite pleased to see there was 6,000 people behind me, if there had been that many behind me the first time I did the Bristol Half Marathon, I would have won it!
There was 30,000 in front of me though, but I'm still feeling quite pleased with myself.
I went running again on Monday, the second time since the marathon, just trotted around the Downs which was fine, although a little concerned about how much it took out of me. Not saying I was really knackered or anything, but could definitely feel the loss of fitness.
But the best bit was being able to run around knowing what I have achieved. Now it's a bit warmer there are lots of runners out and about, many of whom are slimmer, quicker and fitter than me, which used to really annoy me. When people skipped past with perfectly sculpted Lycra-clad thighs and buttocks I used to yearn for muscle tone like that, (not that I was looking at the buttocks of course) and feel the bitterness rising, but on Monday I just thought, 'go for your life, I've done the London Marathon, I've don't have to prove anything'.
It was the strangest feeling. It left me thinking that I really never have to run another step if I don't want to, because nothing is going to take that achievement away, and in terms of running there is no greater challenge I could have faced and conquered. I almost stopped in my tracks right there and just gave up on the whole thing. It's a bit like when you pass your A Levels, or degree, and realise you never need to read another book or take another exam in your life.
But just as my life would have been poorer for giving up on reading, so it is with running as I do feel giving up on running would lead straight back to being Lord Mayor of Fat Town with a reinforced throne to park my flabby arse on all day.
I have gone a bit mad the last few weeks it must be said, but only mad compared to the Spartan existence I led before. Fact is I have been drinking again, and very much enjoying it. Also been eating a lot more than I was before, you could call it binging if you like. Amazingly though, I went on the scales yesterday morning and I've only put four pounds on since the marathon, which I thought was pretty good, so went and ordered a pizza and drank a bottle of wine with Amy, just like the good old days.
Now, I know what you're thinking, or at least if nobody is reading this I know what I'm thinking, this is the slippery slope and I'm flying down it.
Yes, that's possible, but I really don't think it's going to happen. I can't go back to that miserable existence at 19 stone, I could barely function as a result and with the pressure to keep my freelancing lifestyle going I need to be fit and active.
Also, I still have a few stone to lose which I want to achieve over the summer, culminating in a PB at the Bristol Half Marathon. And I have decided I want to run the London Marathon again next year. I've applied to run for the British Heart Foundation and I won't know until August if I get a place, but I'm hopeful. Although God knows how I'm going to raise £3,000 again. Pretty sure I squeezed every last penny out of everybody I know, for which I am so grateful, but I don't feel I can go back to them again next year.
So, I'm going to think about some serious fundraising events and plan it properly and hassle the general public instead. We'll see.
But what I do next is really crucial. I feel like I needed to have a few weeks off to go mad and get drunk, but I am going to put a plan together for training over the summer and perhaps aim to do more different runs at 10k or other half marathons and more cycling as well. A lot of people have suggested a triathlon, but I just can't see myself being able to crack the swimming leg, I am rubbish. I am like the old women who don't get their hair wet in the slow lane. The only effective stroke I can do is breast stroke and very slowly. Although, I guess that could be my next challenge. Think I'd rather run a marathon though.
I'm just so pleased the sun has arrived and training is going to be an actual joy.

Post marathon blue/illness/general crapiness

It's a weird thing this marathon running. Turns out you can train for a year, get in the shape of your life, become stronger and more lean than you could imagine and then go out and run 26.2 miles non-stop, only to pick up the first little bug to come your way once you stop, and be laid low for days with a dicky stomach.

It seems I'm not alone in feeling really quite crap at about this time post marathon. I've been looking things up on t'internet and apparently post-marathon blues is very common as all the planning and preparation and training is focussed on the one single day and not enough thought about what happens afterwards and how you deal with the come down.
There is some medical science behind it too as you're so full of addrenalin in the weeks up to the run, that once you finish that all drains out of your body and your immune system plunges making you prone to any piddling illness that comes along and tries its luck. A bit like Superman when he's wearing that Kryptonite neck chain and even weedy Gene Hackman can have a pop at him.

So it is that this week I have been laid low, even slain by a troublesome stomach bug that started to make its presence known on Tuesday and by Thursday evening had well and truly moved in and refused to leave, despite many attempts and eviction.
I did even wonder if it was somehow appropriate that as the general election progressed on Thursday into Friday towards its inevitable stalemate, I was feeling worse and worse.
I was really looking forward to staying up to watch this great moment in history live from the BBC's ridiculously over-resourced and pointlessly expensive election studio, (still more bearable than Sky's bloody Kay Burleigh), but in the event I was barely able to keep my eyes open and was most concerned about missing the Bristol West result because of being in the loo most of the night.
But I really don't need to add to the huge expanse of commentary and ill-informed speculation surrounding that event.
I am more interested in this post-marathon stage of my life. I knew that it was important to keep training after the run and in fact I went out for a gentle 35 minute jog on the Thursday after the marathon, which felt fine.
I have got my next goal in sight, which is the Bristol half marathon, but after doing a full marathon it feels like I really don't have to try very hard to train for that.
Right now I obviously don't feel like training at all, but I'm sure that will change once I get over this bug.

But I've heard from a few people who are feeling really aimless and pretty low after the run because that huge event has now been and gone and there is a massive gap in our lives.
I never realised that could happen. I assumed I would be just ecstatic from the point I crossed the line until the day I died because of what I had achieved.
Truth is I felt really flat just as soon as I finished, probably because I had just given my all to finishing the run, and I did perk up after my first pint of shandy shortly after. Also, I was very happy indeed taking full advantage of an open bar at a wedding last weekend, for the first time in many months. I don't think Amy could get over how 'fun Bobby' had returned with such avengance.
But I am really worried about hitting a plateau and putting on weight. The day before the marathon I was 14st bang on, a week later I was 14st 8lbs. Today I'm back down to 13st 10lbs, but that's more to do with that bug than anything. So I'm looking forward to starting to train again for something, and my goal for the Bristol Half Marathon is hit 2hrs, which would be a personal best. What I really want to do though is run a marathon again and to be part of that huge event.

I didn't know I would feel like this and had no idea I'd desperately want to run another marathon. Now I know what it means when they say running is like a drug, I'm really feeling like I've gone cold turkey and really need my next hit. A half marathon is like a methadone substitute when you're desperate for the real thing. Although I'd like to make it clear I've never had to take methadone or heroin for that matter, merely projecting my own sense of withdrawal onto that extreme scenario.
Or maybe I should just go and get another hobby, building battleships from matches or something much less draining.
So, anybody know any good dealers I can get a marathon hit from?

Piccies from the London Marathon

Just a few pics taken after the London Marathon, medal in hand, very happy and tired.

London Marathon 2010 - been there, done it!

So, I did it. The training paid off, the advice was well heeded, and I ran every damn step of the Virgin London Marathon 2010, in five hours and 24 mins.

It felt like so much energy, time, blood, sweat and tears had gone into this one day that once it was over I barely had enough energy left to celebrate it. I'm making up for that though.
It's hard to know where to start, there was so much happening over two days.
It started early on Saturday, 4.30am early to be precise, as I had to get the early bus to London so I could get to the Marathon Expo event and pick up my official number and timing chip.
They said to get there early in order to avoid the queues, but it also gave me lots of time to spend money of merchandise like three new London Marathon branded Adidas tops. I decided I'd worked hard enough to treat myself.
I spent the rest of the day in London with my friend Kirsty who has been filming my training progress for the past year, with more patience than I probably deserve. We went up to the starting point in Greenwich Park, which was full of people enjoying the very warm sun, and it just made me feel physically sick at the thought of running any distance.
I think I decided there and then that there was no way I could possibly run a marathon. What the hell was I thinking? Why had I even bothered applying in the first place.
But I also spoke to my friend Marc who assured me this was all normal and that 'cacking yourself' is all part of the build up.
That made me feel a bit better but I was still taken by a pervading sense of self doubt.

I spent the night at Amy's aunt and uncle's home in Rickmansworth as they kindly offered to let us use it as base camp for the weekend, and even laid on a specially-requested pre-marathon dish consisting of stir fried chicken in tomato and marscapone sauce with a huge amount of penne pasta. I had also had a chargrilled chicken fillet burger with chips and salad for lunch that day, so felt that I had probably done well with the carbo-loading.
Just before going to bed I fixed the number on to the front of my official British Heart Foundation running top which Amy had also fixed the letters spelling out my name on the night before.
Then I fixed the timing tag into my laces on my running shoes, checked that I'd remembered my shorts and other vitals, and slept fairly well.

Race day on Sunday was pretty busy from the off as well and the scene at the start was quite different from 24 hours previously.
It was simply heaving with people, it was like being at a music festival where everybody wears lycra instead of jeans and the faint aroma of Deep Heat fills the air rather than marijuana.
Although amazingly I did see a runner, must have been around 20 years old, walking up to the start smoking a fag.
Everybody had told me to just enjoy the day and that the hard work was over, but I found it really hard to enjoy much of the five hours and 24 mins I was on my feet. That's not to say I hated it, far from it, it was amazing and life affirming and all those things, but it was bloody hard work.
I'm glad I took my iPod with me because right from the start I had to really work hard to keep myself in check and stick to a very simple plan - start slowly, keep going slowly and eventually you'll make it.
But of course everybody around me was whizzing past like their arse was on fire, so with my specially selected tunes on which I'd trained with I was able to concentrate on just keeping to my own pace and, as the cliche goes, running my own race.
I had to keep taking my mind off the time and how long I thought I was going to take and just keep going on putting one foot in front of the other most of the time.
There was so much going on around me, a pantomime camel trotted past a couple of times, somebody in a full on Womble outfit, a couple of Fred Flintstones, at least two firemen in full breathing aparatus (which could have been an advantage if it wasn't so heavy) plenty of veteran in the 70 + category who happily went past me and one or two who gave me a nod of encouragement. And some brave/foolish soul in a suit of armour, although I'm pretty sure it wasn't really metal.

I'm really glad that I had my name on the front of my top as well because so many people shouted my name in encouragement, either that or some other bloke called Simon was running just behind and knows loads of people in London.
Now I'm not saying I'm a slow runner but for several miles the guy unwittingly acting as my pacemaker was a big bloke called Aitch who was running for the Meningitis Trust and was actually limping along through injury, but at just the right pace for me to keep going. So thanks Aitch, you may not have appreciated your injured right foot, but it helped me!
The crowds at the side of the road never seemed to disappear, they definitely thinned out, but were there all the way and I did enjoy getting some big cheers from Britsh Heart Foundation points and elsewhere.
I seemed to be running with a lot of the same people for much of the way, the although I only knew them from how they looked behind, some more appealing than others.
I also did my bit to encourage other runners, particularly other BHF runners, but it was noticable how much less sociable I became as my energy levels depleted.
It was really easy to get distracted by everything going on, so I'm pleased I kept my focus on what I needed to achieve and I as I approached 15 miles I felt it was going to get tough from that point. It was very timely that not long after that I managed to spot Amy who was waving madly, so I went over for a quick hug and word of encouragement, which boosted my energy for a little while.
A lot of people had taken to walking at this point as well, which I was kind of surprised about. I honestly thought that most people would be running all the way until about 20 or so. Getting through the next five miles was the hardest part in a way, although I'd done that distance before, it was just such a bloody long time to be running. When I made it to 20 I felt I would make it all the way from that point because I could start to count down the miles, slowly but surely.
I saw Amy again at 20, which helped too. Things did start to get quite gruelling though. At one point I couldn't tell who was walking and who was running and which I was doing. My feet were really hot and starting to feel very sore and although I knew I wasn't out of gas, my body was started to feel the pain of this most unnatural thing to be doing.
I made it to 22 miles a good five minutes quicker than I had in training which felt good but I also knew that from that point everything would be new and uncharted territory for me, but I knew I was so close that there was no way I was going to blow up.
I saw my parents at about this point, just as we were coming out of the City and round to the Embankment, they were waving hysterically and screaming my name as I couldn't hear them because of mu iPod up loud, but managed to see them at the last second. I reckoned it must be pretty tough on spectators to have to wait three or four hours for their loved one to come past only to watch them trundle on past without registering their support. 
Coming down Embankment was when it really started to seem real to me. For most of the run, you are really running around residential streets and could be anywhere, apart from when you go over Tower Bridge, which I thought was alright but no Clifton Suspension Bridge.
Coming round the bend to go down Embankment at about 24 miles gives you the great London views and you know you are in sight of the finish almost. I'd been running for close to five hours by then and had to really dig deep for energy.
I had seen people pulling up with injuries, being treated by medics, at least one stretcher and one person taking off the course because they were so buggered, so I knew what could happen any second potentially but was determined not to fall at these final fences.
It was around this point that I knew why I had spent months and months training and preparing for this event. It all came down to these last few miles and despite the pain my feel and aching legs, I still had the strength to keep going.
I had done everything that people had advised. I'd taken the training very seriously, I'd done the long runs, I done the hill runs, I had taken a drink at every station to keep my hydrated, I'd used the gels to give me a boost and most important of all I hadn't gone off too fast.
It didn't matter that I was barely running any faster than most of the people walking around me, because it was my goal to run the London Marathon all the way, and I was doing it.
I found the pace that I was comfortable at, which involved little more than putting one foot in front of the other and I knew that if I just kept doing that I would get to the finish.
The tunes were giving me a lot of encouragement too, the Rocky theme tune moment was special, as was Faithless' God Is A DJ and of course my own theme tune Lose Yourself, by Eminem.
Embankment was great, loads of cheering and great crowd atmosphere, but then going under the 25 mile mark was just unbelievable. That was when I knew I was going to finish, there was no way I wasn't going to finish the last 1.2 miles, even if it had to be on my hands and knees.
Things were getting a bit cheesetastic on the iPod at this point and out of nowhere D-Ream started up with Things Can Only Get Better, which was surprisingly uplifting.
As we went round Parliament I did the most unbelievable sight of a Japanese couple who had been running the race, stopped in the middle of the course to take pictures of each other with Parliament in the background. I'm really not sure that was the best time for sightseeing.
I was past caring though and just fixing my sights on the Mall, which after almost five and a half hours came into view and I honestly couldn't believe I was there having run all the way.
I went under the huge banner saying 365 yards to go and felt like I might get a bit choked up. I was dreaming of finishing, taking a bath, eating a pizza, seeing Amy, showing off my medal and just not having to run.
Finally the finish line, and I crossed it in five hours, 24 mins and 20 seconds, placed 30,538 out of 36,578. Ahead of Michelle Heaton and Ricky Whittle to name but two 'celebs' Having trained for a year, lost four stone in weight and raised (so far) more than £2000 for the British Heart Foundation.

 You'd think that would be enough, but weirdly my legs wouldn't stop running, it was like a scene out of the Wrong Trousers and I had no control over my limbs, I had to keep trotting around the finish area just to get them to stop spasming.
Got my medal, got my goodie bag and my kit bag (organisation of this event was spot on) and found Amy and my parents, at which point I started blubbing like a big fat baby.
I appreciate that reading this blog entry is a bit of a marathon experience in itself, so if you do get to this point, thank you and thank you for all your support, sponsorship, encouragement and general lovliness this last year. I may have been running it on my own but I felt like there was a lot of people with me - which there was obviously, but I don't mean the other runners, you know what I mean, even if it is a little trite.
I'm so pleased it went well because if I'd had to pull out or walk for several miles I think I'd never go back to running, but with this experience to inspire me I'd think I'd love to do it again, and maybe aim for that five hour personal best next time. Amy will be pleased that I might be training even harder for the next one! She'll be launching her own How to be a Marathon Widow blog soon.
Now all that's left to do is keep fundraising to hit my £3,000 target, which is actually harder than running a marathon - www.justgiving.co.uk/simonpeevers

And now, the end is near....

                    Time to dust off my chicken suit and get out there!

I just want to take the opportunity to say a huge and overwhelmingly massive 'thank you' to everybody who has supported me over the past year, since I started on this quest to run the London Marathon - not that I've done it yet!
It's Friday evening and for the past six days I've been experiencing a welter of different emotions but mainly focussing on sick, nervous tension. I'm told not dissimilar to PMT, which I'm sure must mean Pre Marathon Tension.
This is my last blog entry before the event on Sunday, from which point onwards my life will be split between the time on earth before I did the marathon, and the rest of my life which I will be able to live with a slightly smug sense of satisfaction as somebody who ran the London Marathon, and survived. Hopefully.
Because even if I do get fat again and am forced to spend my life spalshing about in a large birthing pool in the middle of the lounge because no other furniture can support my massive frame, I will still be able to look back on this point and feel I did achieve something. And if nothing else, even if I don't succeed on Super Sunday, I have run 22 miles in training, and that kicks ass.
Seem to be rambling nonsense, but I think it's probably indicative of my nervous state, so it's probably best to keep this short.
I do though want to make it known that I couldn't have come this far without the encouragement and support of some amazing people in my life, some people who I've only recently met and others who have been there all along like my family. And of course a very understanding and supportive girlfriend, without whose strength and inspiration I would have given up long ago, and for being somebody who hasn't ever been bothered about what weight I am, but has always understood that it is something I need to do for myself.
This whole trip has been just amazing from the start because it has been such a massive goal, but has given me the kind of focus and determination that I never knew I had. And in turn that has given me a lot more motivation in work and everywhere else in my life. Nothing fazes me now like it used to, no amount of work is too much now after spending the bleakest winter I've known running up and down hills in the middle of Bristol, I can take on most things I think. I never realised that would happen.
Enough of this introspection, I've got a race to run dammit!
So here I go, thanks for the support, and the sponsorship of course, I aim to do you all proud.

Feet fail me not

Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?

So goes the Eminem tune that has defined my training over the past year. Lose Yourself has been one of those iPod classics that I never get tired of and always helps to spur me on during my running.

Of course I'm well aware that the song is really about some pistol whipping, drug dealing, hoodie gangster type from the wrong side of some tough American trailer town, and not about an overweight, middle class(ish) white English boy from a quaint suburb of an English city training to run a marathon, but that doesn't mean it don't mean nothin'.
Fact is the pumping beat and the anger in the lyrics and sheer determination in the face of the seemingly impossible has been enough to drive me on through the coldest, darkest most miserable winter nights I've ever known. And, it's a bit sweary in places too, which is also good for motivation at times.

More than once I've been schlepping down the Portway in the rain on a dark night with this song thumping into my brain and shouted along with the lyrics: 
So here I go is my shot, feet fail me not, this may be the only opportunity I got,
Success is my only motherf*****g option, failure's not!
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, This opportunity comes once in a lifetime!

That really gets my blood running some how, that followed by Rage Against the Machine and some louder Oasis moments - not that I have anger management issues or anything you understand. Go listen to it while running up a big hill, and you'll know what I mean.

It's now five days until my first London Marathon and since Friday last week I've been feeling a knot in my stomach getting bigger and tighter with every minute I get closer to the day. It's really odd because I had no idea this would happen and now I feel scared and sick and nervous all at the same time. The last time I felt like this was when I asked Amy to marry me, can't remember any other time, maybe when Southampton ran out onto the pitch at the Millennium Stadium in the FA Cup final in 2003. Hope the marathon ends in a better result than that.
I know in my brain that I have done everything I need to prepare and have done the miles and the training, but I can't help feeling like I'm going to not make it round or get overwhelmed by the event.
I'm having anxiety dreams about it now as well. The other night I dreamt I was walking in the opposite direction to the start line and then couldn't get my running shoes on when I tried, and in fact I ended up borrowing somebody's car and crashing it into a riverbank or something odd.
I know I'm supposed to be tapering but I'm genuinely scared that I'm going to lose my runnning legs and suddenly all those months of training will disappear, so I'm running a little distance every other day, and I've been down the gym a couple of times.
My official British Heart Foundation running top arrived last week as well, complete with letters for me to stick on so that people see my name and shout encouragement. I might just put IDIOT on the front instead of my name, because really that's more appropriate. Who in their right mind would spend a really hot April day running 26 miles around the middle of London with thousands of other loonies.
I am also really worried that it's going to be really hot and I'm going to pass out from heat exposure.
Luckily all my running will be done at the hottest part of the day from about 10am until 3pm, so no escaping it. Maybe I could do it at night instead, or really early in the morning. I even had a bonkers idea that the volcano dust cloud was going to descend on the capital and the whole thing would be called off due to public health fears. I would be so gutted if that happened, or if anything like a twisted ankle or a dose of summer flu was to attack me. Anything that could possibly stop me running on Sunday would be devastating. I'm not sure I could in all honesty recover from that very easily.
Anyway, I'm sure all will be fine and all these irrational nerves are quite normal for first timers like me - couldn't be more appropriately sponsored as I am a Virgin Marathon virgin, as it were.

For all my nonsense ramblings I'm really excited about the run now, I can't wait to hobble down the Mall and get across the line in one piece, hopefully, and I've even given myself the Monday off work to get over it!

Taunton Half Marathon - 2hrs 25 mins

I spent my Sunday morning running around the beautiful Somerset countryside around Taunton for my last big run before the London Marathon.

It was a really nice day and quite sunny, as my beetroot red sunburnt face will testify. I have been so used to running in cold and rain that the Taunton Half Marathon was the first time I've run in hot weather over any big distance.
I did it alongside running mate, FB Running Clubber and general marathon guru Dave Tilley, who has been a constant source of support, inspiration and sound advice throughout this process, so I was really grateful to him for suggesting this run.
It was probably the smallest running event of its kind I've ever done, to the extent that we were running along the road with the traffic for most of it, which was a little distracting.
But it was also quite hilly and undulating. That combined with the heat took a fair bit out of my Bath Half time of 2hrs 17 as I finished Taunton in 2hrs 25.
I was a little disappointed at first but it was a pretty steady 11 minute mile pace, which is not bad at my level and, as I've pointed out, it was hilly.
In any case it was a good training run to get under my belt and I was down to do 130 mins in any case this weekend.
Some fantastic scenery on the way round as well, looking even more beautiful in the early spring sunshine.
The weirdest thing was just treating something like that as a training run considering just over six months ago I had to pull out of the Bristol half marathon half way because I wasn't able to run it.
As Fatboy Slim might say, (if he didn't just sample old Northern Soul tunes) we've come a long long way baby.
I also got all the info through that I need for the marathon from the British Heart Foundation, which includes my fetching Heart Runners top and all my official number. It's really real now I guess.
I had rather optimistically put myself down for a medium size running top when I applied last year, but when I tried it on I had to admit it was still a bit tight and considering I still have man boobs even after losing five stone, it was just the wrong side of indecent. Those running tops are always smaller than they say anyway aren't they?
I have also been looking ahead to what to do after the marathon and have applied for the Bristol Half Marathon 2010, in September.
As I mentioned, I may have lost five stone but it was from a long way up the fat scale, so it's not like I'm ready to give Russell Brand a skinny jeans wearing competition any time soon and I still have more to lose.
Ideally I think getting down to 12 stone would be about right, and I don't want to just finish the marathon and start to blow up like Vanessa Feltz locked in a cake shop. So I will be in training for Bristol as soon as I am over London and hope to post a personal best after a summer of training.
And I'd really like to think about doing the New York Marathon one day too, how cool would that be, I'm sure Amy would love the sight seeing and shopping as well.
Hmmmm, there's an idea....

My latest video diary

Just made my last video diary before the marathon, looking back on the past 12 months of training - that was a rubbish winter.

If you're interested, see it here and I hope it encourages some more sponsorship, still got some way to go to hit that target.

Haven't run again since my 22 miler on Saturday, think I might go for a trot later.

Stick a fork in me - I'm ready

Another weekend, another ridiculously long run.
I managed 22 miles on Saturday, in four and a half hours, and amazingly I didn't drop dead at the end.
I had been dreading it but once I got going I was really spurred on by the thought that it would be the last time I had to trundle up Cranbrook Road and down the Portway etc.
For that reason I wanted to put in a really good effort, one last push before the marathon itself.
I had intended to do the same route as last time but I was feeling quite fresh and full of running so added a couple of bits here and there which ended up in me doing 22 miles in total.
I now feel ready to take on the full 26, which even six weeks ago I never thought I would. I couldn't get much more than 14 or 15 miles under my belt and felt I had a mountain to climb.
But actually The Plan that I have been following reasonably closely has worked and I have hopefully entered my peak performance period at just the right time.
There was a moment yesterday when I nearly abandoned the whole thing as the heavens opened after about an hour and the rain was just unbearable, the sort of rain that seems to be coming at you in all directions like one of those posh showers.
Thankfully it cleared because the thought of four hours of that filled me with horror, although I had to accept that it could well be pouring with rain on the day itself so should just suck it up.
Even at three hours into the run I was still feeling strong and ticking along nicely, it was really encouraging and I think my plan to just start off slowly and keep going slowly really paid off. I now really believe that if all I do is keep plodding at a comfortable pace on the day that I will be able to keep going all the way round.
I have to accept that I probably won't finish in five hours though, if I only got to 22 miles in four and a half as there's no way I could do the last four  miles in 30 minutes. I could never do four miles in half an hour, especially after 22. But, what the hell, it's all about finishing, and I should stop being weirdly jealous of Eddie Izzard finishing in five hours as he did have lots of breaks along the way, including 20 mins just before the end.
So, that's it. All that remains is Taunton Half Marathon next weekend just to get me sharpened up and then maybe a bit of swimming and cycling over the next few weeks to keep things ticking over, otherwise the next big run I do will be the London Marathon. Bring it on baby!

Running is rubbish, I hate running. And Eddie Izzard.

 Pic cap: Eddie Izzard, annoyingly running lots of marathons and putting me in the shade.

I am so glad that April 25 is now just around the corner.

Of course in many ways I'm terrified, but lately I have been fighting to resist an overwhelming urge to jack it all in and head to the pub to go and find the life I used to have some time ago.

To be honest it was that Eddie Izzard who put me in this mood and his marathon challenge for Sport Relief.

I can't believe it. There I was, 18 stone plus and about to start training for a marathon. 12 months down the line and I've lost four stone and achieved more than I ever thought possible, even having a film mad about my journey. And then a slightly podgey transvestite comedian decides to run 43 marathons in a row. So now everybody's like, 'well, you're no Eddie Izzard are you?'. Then he goes and finishes the London Marathon in five hours, which means if I don't do the same, I will forever have to live with the fact that an overweight middle aged comic outran me on every level. I just feel like, what's the point? It's obviously not that big a deal if he can crawl around Britain chomping in ice creams all the way round and then put in a the kind of performance I've been training for a year to achieve.

It's even more painful as, and I know this may sound weird, more than one person has in the past thought that I may have sounded and even looked a little like the boy Izzard at times, which for somebody with an ego the size of mine was very nice to hear.

And if by some remote chance he does somehow find out about this blog, I should say that I think he's very funny and have been a big fan for many years.

To be so close to the end of this utterly bonkers attempt to get fit and healthy is a relief. I'm pleased as well that I have managed to get to 20 miles in training, as if I do nothing else then that is an achievement in itself.

I also achieved my fastest 10k run last weekend. In The Plan it said I needed to put in a good effort on a 10K run, so I did, and finished in 1hr 5mins. I know that's not going to trouble the GB Olympic team selection committee, but to put it in context it was ten minutes quicker than the Weston Christmas Cracker I did in December, and it's all of 30 mins quicker than the Bristol 10K I did in May last year at the start of this training regime.

But as I started the run I felt nothing more than resentment and irritation at having to be on my feet at all.

It feels like all week all I can think about is how far I'm going to run, what route to take, what I should be eating, whether I can go out that night and lose vital sleep or pasta meals.

I've just put off seeing a couple of good friends tonight because I am going to attempt 22 miles tomorrow and all I can do tonight is eat a huge bowl of pasta and get an early night.

It's frankly anti-social and I haven't seen any of my friends for months. Last night I went out to see a friend who was leaving his job, not really of his own will but we've all been there! And predictably I spent the night drinking soda and limes and by 11pm was pretty much ready to come home.

But I realised that I hadn't seen half the people there since Christmas, which is rubbish really.

Friends who have had children lately will be taking them off to university by the time I see them again.

And still it's bloody raining and cold and crappy weather out there, when will it ever warm up? I'll tell you, it's going to be April 25, marathon day, it'll suddenly be the hottest April day on record and I'll faint from heat stroke after three miles.

Although the 20 miles I did two weeks ago felt like a great achievement and wasn't as painful as I imagined, the very thought of spending more than four hours running around Bristol again, fills me with dread.

I think it's because it's so tedious after a while. I've started driving to different places to start my runs because I'm so damn bored of running up Cranbrook Road and over Clifton Suspension Bridge and then down the bloody boring endless Portway.

I know where every dip in the pavement is, where the overgrown bushes attack you, where the yapping dogs live and where the badly parked 4x4s are along the way.

But I also know it does feel wonderful and amazing and all of that stuff once I get my arse round the course and get into it. I just wish it was a bit warmer, sunnier and more interesting to look at. It's got to the point where I just don't give a damn about running or anything to do with it.

My trainers sit in the hallway tormenting me. It's supposed to be Peak Week this week, and I've been a bit naughty by not going out every day like it says, but to be honest I just can't do that. I'm not built to run five days a week. Me and running would have really fallen out if I had.

And I'm all grumpy about the fundraising as well, only half way there and no idea how I'm going to hit the target.

Of course there is no way I'm not going to go through with this, it's been my life for a year, but it's kind of nice just to say the unsayable and let off a little steam.

Also, I'm not really whinging. I know three quarters of the world lives on less than a dollar a day etc and yes, it's entirely my own decision to run a marathon blah blah. Doesn't mean it's all medals and personal bests all the way though.

On the upside, the Brtitish Heart Foundation have been in touch about using my 'story' as a case study for a weight loss campaign they're launching so hopefully that may help with the fundraising.

No more bleeding nipples!

I've just about got the energy back to write this as on Sunday I ran for four hours and covered 19 and a half miles, which I'm claiming as a 20 miler - it's as near as damn it.
But almost more importantly, I've discovered the cause of my bleeding nipple issue and even after four hours of hard pounding on Sunday there wasn't so much as a scratch around the man boob area.
Basically it seems that the trusty Reebok bright yellow running jacket I have been wearing all through  my winter training as it provided most welcome protection against the wind and rain, has also been chaffing away at my over-sensitive nips.

Pic cap: An example of bleeding nipple syndrome, just in case you couldn't picture it yourself!

 The inside lining of the jacket is like a honeycomb mesh which I thought was like a clever hi-tech materiel, but in fact has been acting much like a cheese grater. Not the best design for a garment designed specifically for runners.
I discovered it was the cause of all my pain after going out on Sunday without the cold weather protection as thank the lord of all things weather, which is probably God, the temperature is now creeping up above freezing so I had no need of it.
The run itself felt amazing. I didn't really set out to run for four hours, I wanted to match the three and a half hours I'd done the week before, but it just felt right so I kept going, Forest Gump style.
I nearly gave up on the whole thing after half an hour because I was wearing what I can only describe as a utility belt for the first time, holding two drinking bottles and a bunch of energy gels. It felt so heavy, cumbersome and uncomfortable at first that I felt like I was dragging a tyre behind me and I nearly threw the whole thing into the hedge.
But, annoyingly, it did what the marketing blurb claimed eventually and moulded around my waist so that I didn't really feel it after a while. I'm glad I persevered as the energy gels, special energy drink and water were much welcome.
Most encouragingly after three and a half hours I felt much brighter than I had done a week before when I was dead on my feet after the same time. And even getting into the city centre to finish the run at four hours I genuinely felt like there was more to give and wasn't as utterly wrecked as last week.
Don't get me wrong, I was well and truly buggered, but if I'd had to continue, if my life depended on it, I feel I could have gone on.
So it's left me full of confidence for the big day, which is precisely a month away now and I've even signed up for the Taunton half marathon two weeks before to try to get myself nice and sharp for race day.
Now all I need to do is work as hard on the fundraising for the British Heart Foundation, so, you know the score, if you're reading this far down and feel compelled to sponsor me and help to fight heart disease, the UK's biggest killer, please go to www.justgiving.co.uk/simonpeevers to make a secure donation.

No Gastric Band Required

It's been a while since I last checked in so I apologise for that, but I've only just about found the energy to tap the keys on my computer, a week after the longest run I've ever done in my life.

Last Sunday I ran for three and a half hours, covering a distance of 17 miles and boy did that hurt.

It felt great to get that far, even though I did have to call Amy to come and rescue me from Bristol city centre and barely had the breath in my body to make the call.

But I really felt that I had broken through a bit of a wall, which is a good job as it's now one month and three days until the London Marathon.

I can't believe how quickly that is coming up, more bloody quickly than I can run, I know that for sure.

But hopefully the timing of my training will mean I'm just peaking at the right time for the marathon.

By running 17 miles though I do feel that I'm obviously very close to be able to run 20 miles, and once I've hit that milestone it should be enough to go the full distance on the day itself, hopefully with a little help from the crowd and the atmosphere of the event. I hear so much about this famous event adrenalin that I'm thinking about trying to bottle it and sell on the internet for vast sums, it certainly needs to be as strong as it sounds to get me round.

I also managed to reach another important milestone this week when I stepped on the scales and weighed 14 stone bang on, which means I've lost four stone in 10 months and five stone since I was at my heaviest (or should I say fattest), back in September 08. I don't think I'm going to hit my eight stone target before the marathon, but I'm very pleased to be able to ditch the tent-like shirts and stretchy waistband jeans.

And I've done it all without the aid of a gastric band, diet pill or any other drastic measure. That sounds really smug I realise, but I do worry about the rise in gastric band operations in the past 12 months. It feels like the easy option to me, although I am well aware there are genuine cases. Surely there's no guarantee that when the band is removed you won't start to put weight on again? I know it's taken me nearly a year to lose this weight, but at least I don't have saggy loose skin hanging from my stomach as a result.

Each to their own I guess, but I have to say exercise, diet and changing your life is a really positive approach.

In the time it takes to get one of these operations, why not start walking a bit more, stop eat junk and do something about it. Easy for me to say, I realise that, so I'll shut up before I offend somebody.


Training this week has been tough after the long run last Sunday. But there has been a significant change in the weather I feel, and on Wednesday for the first time I was running in just a t-shirt. Well, not just a t-shirt as that would have been indecent, but no need for windproof jackets or hats and gloves. I was doing some interval training so was working pretty hard. That was a hard session. Basically it involved running really fast for ten minutes, having a four minute break, and then going fast again, a couple of times.

I thought that one advantage might be that at least I will look like I'm running fast than everybody else for a change, but no, it seemed like everybody was doing the same thing, or just that everybody in Bristol runs really fast. Everybody seemed to be sprinting like mad fools rushing past me, which didn't help greatly.

Thursday was probably the most difficult run for a while. It was only 45 mins as per the plan, but I was really feeling it and nearly stopped at one point, which was disheartening in lots of ways. I feel like I'm being broken, in order to build me up again, or something.


I've had lots of good advice about nipple protection lately and the consensus is plasters over the sensitive areas. Last week was carnage in that area I must say. I did wonder what sort of reaction I would get from Amy if I asked to borrow her sports bra, as that is really the best option (you don't see women afflicted in the same way), but thought better of it and will be going for the manly option of stick plasters on my nipples. Not sure how manly I will feel ripping them off at the end of three and a half hours though.

New jeans, new waistline

I have taken a picture of my arse, which you may find a little odd and perhaps might think all this running and lack of alcohol has sent me over the edge, but fear not the aforementioned rear is fully clothed.
I took delivery today of a new pair of Levi 501s, which I haven't worn for about four years.
I was so please to be able to slip into them, not just because of the way they fit better than any other jeans, IMHO, but because they are a 34 inch waist.
I'm so pleased to be able to get into them that I decided to document the moment and take a pic of my Levi-clad backside.

 

It feels so liberating to wear good clothes again, it's been so long. I know they make Levis with a 38 inch  waist, but they don't look good on a fat bloke. In fact, nothing looks good on a fat bloke, unless your Pavarotti in that painting smock he used to wear. But he was Italian and even fat Italians manage to look cool.
I have spent a lot of the last few years schlepping around in a pair of very cheap jeans from Asda which I only bought because they managed to fit round my huge gut at the time.
I also bought a huge black jumper at the same time in the hope that it might look slimming, but who was I kidding.
In fact I was treated by Amy to a trip to M&S at the weekend for my birthday (I am an M&S man now, I've given over to the inevitable) and bought a load of shirts all sized 16inch collar, which again is something I haven't done for a long time.
It's like being let back into normal society to wear clothes which are design to hang off you, not stretch around you like canvas over ten frames.
The jeans were also a present from my parents and I asked for a 34 inch waist not knowing if I could fit into them, but damn it I dared to dream and today I lived that dream and walked around all day in them, just to prove they did fit properly, no stretchy waist bands or lycra in woven into the material to help get them over an ample rump. Also weighed in at 14st and a pound today.
Now don't get me wrong, I know that a 34 inch waist isn't exactly the stuff of snake hipped male models, but I've come down from 38 and was actually probably more like a 40 but couldn't bring myself to buy new trousers that big and put up with tight jeans. (By the way if you say trousers over and over again it begins to sound absurd).
My ideal would be to get down to a 30inch waist, which I had when I was 18 I think. But that was a while ago now and I have just turned 35 so perhaps I should accept I can't have everything I had when I was 18.
I mean, I had a 17 year old girlfiriend then as well and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to have one of those at 35. 
Moving on, I had a great run tonight, felt like I was going really fast, for me at least.
I should have done four sessions this week but did two instead and I have a three hour run at the weekend to look forward to. I don't know if I did the right thing, but I did put some real effort into the Bath half on Sunday so felt I should recover properly from that before attempting another very long run. I want to feel fresh when I take on Bristol for three hours or more on Sunday, I want to make the long runs count, but I know I need to keep fitness up as well.
So tonight's run was heartening as I covered a distance that used to take me an hour in 47 minutes and kept the pace up most of the way.
Also got a bit of a fright when I realised we are already in mid-March and there is just a matter of weeks to go until the big day and I have loads of money still to raise and lots of distance to cover. Wish I had another six months!

It never stops, even on my birthday

Today is my birthday, I can hardly bellieve I'm 35-years-old.
That means my next really big birthday bash is going to be my 40th, and that is scary for some reason. Can't escape having to grow up now I guess.
So, I'm going out for a slap up meal with some friends to celebrate tonight.

But of course, before that, I will be doing four 8 minute bursts with 3 mins recovery, as per The Plan, which cares not a bit about my birthday.

Did 45 mins last night, felt remarkably fresh considering my effort on Sunday, so that was a good sign. Looking ahead to a three hour training run on Sunday, that could hurt.

By the way, anybody got any tips for nipple protection? I know this sounds a bit disgusting, but it's all part of it. I slapped on what I thought was a goodly amount of Vaseline onto my upper torso including nipples on Sunday, and still they got scracthed and bled. Sorry, sounds horrible I know.
So I just don't know what to do about it, any good products out there?

Happy birthday to me.

Bath Half Marathon 2010 - great run, shame about the organisation

I had a great run today at the Bath Half Marathon. I finished in 2hrs and 17mins, which at first I was a bit disappointed with, but on reflection I've decided it's no bad thing. Unlike the organisation of the event, which I will come onto later.

Pic caption: Happy runner. At least I finished this time!

I had as usual piled the pressure onto myself to do well today, as I felt it would be a really important barometer for my London Marathon training. So when I was unable to keep to 10 minute miles within the first three miles, I started to feel like the whole thing was just a waste of time and that I hadn't trained enough and that there is no way I was going to be able to take on a full marathon in a little over six weeks.
But actually, it turns out I put on an extra minute every two miles, so in the end was seven minutes over where I wanted to be. My best ever half marathon time was Bristol 2006 in 2hrs 10mins, and the only other time I've run the Bath half was the same year, in 2hrs 30mins.
I guess 2hrs 17 is not the end of the world and if, somehow, I managed to keep that kind of pace going in London, I would still finish around five hours, or possibly under that. Although I doubt it.
Today felt very different though to any half marathon I've done before. I was very relaxed going into it, fully confident for the first time that I knew I could do the distance, so actually it was all about how I performed and how I managed my pace.
The whole thing was very matter of fact, I wasn't clinging on to dear life to keep going, I was measuring my performance against each mile and thinking about how I would be able to increase my speed over the next couple, or slow down to ensure I didn't burn out.
Also for probably the first time ever I started off passing people and kept passing people all the way to the end, it was weird.
Even after a customary toilet break after the first half mile, unlike Bristol last September the entire field hadn't disappeared by the time I had gone for a pee. (see earlier blog).
I kept up with one or two people for a lot of the time, although they didn't know it, but if you are the short-haired blonde girl who wore a pink running vest and grey trackies, I am grateful for your pace.
That really helped me get into a rhythm I was comfortable with and the usual inspiring beats on my iPod pushed me on. As well as the massive bowl of seafood pasta I had for dinner last night. (I put on 5lbs overnight after easting that)
I knew I had to give it some beans so I really did go for it a bit and found that I was able to up the pace when I felt like it. Maybe not for too long, but when it got to 12 miles I wanted to push on to the end and was able to put a decent spurt on to the finish.
It was really strange getting to 12 miles and really not feeling like I'd been through mill, as I usually do at that point, or more usually I'm walking with blistered feet by then.
I think I know I'm getting better as my attitude changed quite radically and I found myself becoming a running monster. Gone are the days of happily plodding along with all the other fatties at the back, chirping on about how just being there on the day is enough of an achievement. No, screw that, get the hell out of my way, I'm on a mission and you're an HGV in my motorway fastlane, grrr.
Suddenly the jovial chubby fun runner had been possessed by the kind of single minded, fat-hating, self-centred ejit that I'd always despised on runs like this. I had started in the slowest category so there were a lot of slow people around me, (even to suggest other people are slower than me is staggering), and I started running on the pavement to get past them and made a point of getting through the walkers, as if to say 'If you're too weak and unfit to get to five miles without giving up and walking, then you shouldn't be here!'.
And if I wasn't being ever so slightly fascist towards them, I was getting more and more enraged at the number of spectators who thought it was hilarious to run across the road in front of the runners, or ride their bikes alongside.
I realise I'm not an elite Kenyan athlete who cares about each millisecond, but I just thought it was bloody annoying for these idiots to run across just as we were all trying to keep our momentum, especially the fat, chavvy families who clearly had no respect for the effort being made by thousands of people today as they scurried over the road to get to the chip shop to feed their obese children even more lard.
I even saw one guy, a runner in fact, smoking a fag as he went up Newbridge Road, I couldn't believe it. He had a number on his shirt and was in scruffy old running gear, and had a full on B&H in his hand and was puffing away. Clearly not a lot of respect either for those running for cancer charities, heart disease charities and in memory of loved ones who died of cancer.
You see, an absolute monster I became out there, and I don't know why.
Normally I would applaud anybody who was making an kind of effort to cover 13 miles, whether they were walking or running like the wind. But today, I saw one of the power walkers and just thought 'what't the bloody point love, get out of my way'.
It was a whole new experience, not really one I'm proud of. But I did feel I put in a good effort and was really focussed on what I was doing.
When I got to 12 miles I just ticked it off in my mind as another mile down and carried on. That has never happened before, and I felt like I could have gone on. I'm not sure if today I could have gone on for another 13 miles, but I definitely felt that I had plenty left in the tank, as they say, and within minutes of finishing was breathing normally again and really felt fine.
So, great run, I even liked the course. Some people aren't keen on two laps, but I didn't mind it, at least I knew what was coming. Also there are nice gentle downhill bits which helped me pick up speed.
I just wish the organisation of the event was better.
I am so annoyed by the way things were organised on the day that I feel like I don't want to run it again.
People may feel I'm making a meal of this and I'd really be interested in what others think, but I thought the Runners' Village was a disgrace.
In a nutshell, all the entry and exit points into the Runners' Village were constantly jammed as they just bottlenecked with all the people trying to get in and out.
For a start the signing was terrible. I expect to queue for the loos, but it was desperately slow, and it wasn't until I'd been queueing for about 15 mins that it became clear that there were blokes' urinals to dash in and out of.
Okay, that may be just one of those things, but getting out of the village to get to the start point was not easy as again it wasn't clear where to go and it took quite a while just to get out of the gate. Once out of the village I made my way to the start, which wasn't that easy to find and on its own probably wouldn't be an issue but by this point I was just annoyed and all the little things were getting to me.
Anyway, so we all trot off and have a great run. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day on cusp of spring, still a bit of a chill in the air but I warmed up pretty quick.
Marshalling and drink stops were okay, except the Lucozade station had run out by the second lap. I thought that was pretty shabby as I was looking forward to a bit of a boost and it's not as if I was right at the back. If it was a one lap race, that station would have been about 9 miles, and you would definitely expect it to still be stocked.
There was water about half a mile or so later.
These things are minor annoyances, but when we got over the finish line I couldn't believe what was happening. After catching my breath and grabbing some fluids, I joined the line of people going back into the Runners' Village and found myself being herded like cattle with thousands of others trying to fit through one gate.
It was so frustrating, the whole crowd came to a stop and we were just waiting around getting cold and cramping up. There was nobody on hand to give out foil wraps and I dread to think what it would've been like if it had been colder and even raining.
At the end of the run all you want to do is get your medal, pick up the goodie bag and get out of there.
But instead we were crammed together for a good 20 minutes, waiting to get into the Runners' Village while feeling pretty knackered from running 13 miles and really not appreciating the wait.
The entry gates to the field next to The Rec Rugby Ground which they use for the Runners' Village, are clearly not big enough to accommodate the amount of people on the run, so bloody make the gates bigger, or don't have so many runners.
When I finally got through and picked my wonderful goodie bag, which contained a t-shirt, a granola bar, some deodorant??? and leaflets, woop di do, I then had to wait in line again to get out of the other side of the Runners' Village. And still I couldn't find a foil wrap to keep me warm. I asked one woman where she got hers and she said she took it out of the recycling bin! And there wasn't anybody I could see to ask for assistance.
So, that was all pretty crap really. I can put up with delays at the start and a bit of confusion about where to start and all that, but really the end of the event should be much easier to deal with.
I've never had that kind of problem at Bristol, and even the half marathon I did in a Kenyan game park was better organised than Bath.
I've probably been too harsh, I'm sure plenty of people had a much better experience, after all nobody died (that I'm aware of) and maybe there will be few complaints. But for me, at that point of the event, when thousands of people were just trying to get warm and go home, the organisation failed big time at the point when it should have been at its smoothest.
Sorry Bath Half organisers.
This must be one of the longest blogs I've written in a while, so I'll stop it here as I suspect few people will be reading this far in any case. Bum poo willy and boobs - just seeing if anybody does make it to the end!

Next stop London. Bring it on!

Approaching the home straight

Morning sports fans,

It's been a while and I apologise but a combination of being really busy and still having no broadband (thanks for nothing Orange) has kept me from my favourite past time of inflicting gruesome details about my training regime up you.

Some good news on the weight loss front this week as I've been weighing in at 14st 2lbs, which has been very pleasing and so close to four stone down from the start of this journey. I still feel I could have lost more had I not stalled in the summer, but that's life I guess. Without the gastro-band option it does take time and ultimately I hope to be feeling better for the gradual reduction.

Also it is apparently five weeks until I have to star tapering down to the big day, and that really doesn't feel long enough to go from 14/15 miles up to 26. That famous atmosphere everybody talks about really needs to do its trick on the day I think.

I had a horrible moment on a run at the start of the week when I came off a kerb and felt my ankle twist slightly, feeling queasy just thinking about it. In a flash I saw the whole thing falling down around my ears, the dream was over, and I'd be spending April 25 sitting on the couch wishing I could be there. But likely it wasn't a proper sprain and I ran it off within minutes. But it served as a reminder of how frail the body is really, even a chunky lump like me, it doesn't take much.

Training has been a bit of a slog lately as well. I ran for two hrs and 26mins last Sunday and it was tough from the start. Everything felt rubbish for the whole way round. My legs felt heavy and like I was wading through tar. My headphones didn't fit properly and were annoying bashing around at the back of my head, my left nipple did its usual painful bleeding trick, and I just couldn't find the energy, although I did keep going. If nothing else, I proved I could just get through it and get to the end, so that was something.

Fortunately the shorter runs I did this week ahead of the Bath Half Marathon were much better and in contrast felt like I has springs in my legs and was happy to motor on, so I'm taking that as an encouraging sign for tomorrow.

I am looking forward to Bath tomorrow, it should be a good gauge of how I will get on in London in the sense of running in a big event. It's very different to plodding along on your own for two hours in the dark.

On getting a bit emotional and encouraging steps

 

Thanks for all your support

I have taken up a new exercise of late which consists of repeatedly banging my head against a wall.
I find this is actually less painful than having to listen to Orange tell me yet again that my broadband won't working until some point in the third millenium.
As a result blog posts are even more erratic than normal but I can report some great news as I weighed in this week at 14st 6lbs, which is well on my way through the 14s. Seems like the disruption of the move wasn't so bad after all, must have been all that humping, as it were...

Anyway, also been getting back into my training this week and now looking forward to the Bath Half a week on Sunday.

Even got a little emotional while plodding the other night. I was just thinking about all the people who have been so amazingly supportive over the past months and if even half of those who said they'll be there on the day will be able to make, I think I'll be quite humbled.
I was just running all this through my mind and started to feel a little, almost, weepy, or something. Must be the age and the stresses on my body during the running. But it is overwhelming the amount of support that has carried me this far - if only they could be there to literally carry me on the day, arf.

Last night's run was very encouraging as it was pretty hard work to start with, very ploddy as it was the third run in three days, as per the schedule (building up to half marathon).
I was due to do 90 mins, so I headed out on a route which used to take me about that long, and in fact at the start of my training I did it in one hour and 36 mins. It's the well worn route down the Portway and up Bridge Valley Road. But I was very pleased to get to the finish to see that I had done it in 1 hr and 12 mins, almost half an hour off! I hoped I would be quicker but had no idea I was running that much faster. It makes sense of course because I'm carrying about four stone less than I was when I ran it before.
What was most encouraging is that I managed to do it at a decent pace, it's about 10k, but I wasn't trying too hard. It was a case of head down and get it done on a cold February night on my tod, so who knows what I will be able to achieve with the adrenalin pumping and tens of thousands of others people around me.
I'm really looking forward to it now.

Start again on Monday

I'm writing this week off in terms of training.

Moving flat has been such a drain on time and energy that I've really not had any time to devote to my training, which is disappointing, but a fact of life I guess.
I know it's only a flat I live in, but it seems when you share it with somebody else the amount of stuff multiplies by about three times, and then having to get the old place cleaned at the same time, and living in chaos in the new place because we've had no time yet to unpack is all rather trying.
In fact the only place that feels normal is sitting at my desk at work.

I did get out for about 40 mins on Wednesday, which included a couple of hills, and I have been pretty active most of the week, so at least I haven't just been sitting eating pizza in bed all week.
The Plan says I should be doing a half marathon this weekend, which isn't happening but I do have the Bath Half Marathon to look forward to in two weeks, so really I could consider this week as part of my 'tapering' as they call it, giving my muscles a rest before a big run. But actually a half marathon is less than the longest training run that I've done, which is bonkers to think about considering less than a year ago I couldn't get round a 10k course without stopping to walk every few minutes.

So anyway, I'm going to try to get out for a decent slog on Sunday, but once I've dug out The Plan from whichever box it's in, I shall pick up again in earnest on Monday. Feels like the end is getting close now, I mean in terms of the run, not the world. But who knows?

The Moving Diet

Just getting over four days of eating rough.

Moving house has meant everything is in chaos and having no access to cooker, been living on take outs inbetween shifting boxes and furniture - with the exception of a most welcome home-cooked shepherds pie at Amy's parents' home on Friday.
Been lots of van driving, Ikea furniture building and humping boxes up and down stairs as well as the endless cleaning!

Part of me thought that the move might be quite good for losing weight with all that activity, but in truth the trip to Domino's on Sunday and the Sheesh Mahal last night, probably undid any good work.
And I haven't even seen my running shoes since Thursday, so I'm actually looking forward to getting back into it tonight.

Still, it's not like you're moving every week is it? Although it feels like it a bit at the moment!

Peevers hits the headlines

 Fame at last, my fundraising story in the Evening Post:

http://www.redlandpeople.co.uk/news/Marathon-run-years-heart-surgery-losing-stone/article-1830202-detail/article.html

I'd like to thank...you all!

 Pic caption: Gratitude, I am full of it at the moment. (That really isn't meant as sarcastically as it reads)

I just want to say thank you to everybody who has responded so magnificently to my online appeal to raise sponsorship for the London Marathon run which I'd doing in aid of the British Heart Foundation.
In just ten days I have raised about £500 which has boosted the grand total to just over £1,200, which is much nearer the target of £3,000 than I was last month.
I'm very lucky to know so many wonderful and generous people and without sounding like an over-emotional luvvy on Oscar night, I'm really touched.
It's a cliche but it really does make it all worth it, because without the work of the BHF and the fantastic NHS nurses, doctors and surgeons that are the envy of the rest of the world, there's a good chance I wouldn't have got this far in life at all. I was born with a hole in my heart to begin with, and that was sewn up fairly quickly while I was a baby with the only reminder being a fading scar on my chest.
That was replaced with the fat new scar that was left by the heart valve replacement surgery I had in 2007. That serves as a reminder every day to me of how important it is to get my ass out there and keep training to run this marathon and raise the vital funds that will hopefully help the BHF and in turn the NHS to research heart disease, which is still the UK's biggest killer.
It may be a bit cold or rainy for me, but if had been born in another country, without the privilege of free health care, would I even be here today? That's enough to keep me going, and hopefully may nudge anybody who is considering sponsoring me to click on the link and make that donation today.
But thanks again to all the support so far, it really means a lot.

Blimey! Think I've turned into a bit of a big girls' blouse, better start talking split times, interval training and chaff wounds again while chomping on flax seed and bananas:-)

The psychological battle

I think I'm entering what proper sports people call the hard yards in terms of training.
After my 14.3 mile mega training three hour run last weekend I knew I had to give myself a few days to get over it.
But something weird started to happen during the week. As the days past I started to feel like I couldn't go out running again ever. I felt like if I tried to hit the pavements, new Asics or not, I wouldn't have the strength in my legs to keep going because all my energy had been drained from the Sunday run.
Then I started to feel massive doubts about my ability to run the marathon in a couple of months, despite how well the training is going and how far ahead of schedule I am. My terrible maths calculated that at my current pace it would take about 8 hours probably to complete and frankly there's no way I could keep going for 8 hours at anything, let alone running.
It was awful, all of a sudden everything seemed to be impossible. Then I started to blame myself for not taking training more seriously earlier last year and laying down a better foundation to build on.
It got to the point that on Thursday, which is when I did my next run, I wondered if I'd even be able to go for a mile without having to stop for breath and that all the work I'd done in the past three or four months had been totally undone in a few days.
All very odd.
It's like the battle has become psychological as well as physical now. I guess this is why sportsmen and women talk about belief all the time and why the M People tune Search for the Hero is always played at running events, because I'm finding that I'm having to dig deep like never before to keep going and keep the belief in myself and my ability.
Having run further and for longer than ever before, I still felt like I was so far off where I need to be that I just let doubt creep in and undermine everything. Plus the crappy February weather hasn't really been helping and I am so bored of the dark and the cold. In fact I think I was suffering some kind of come down after Sunday's run because all week I was feeling really down, like everything was rubbish and I was rubbish and I couldn't achieve anything worthwhile and all I wanted to do was curl up under the mattress and go to sleep until the summer.
On Thursday evening I went out for a run and felt 100 times better as a result, everything was possible again and the future was mine to take and do whatever I wanted with.
Those natural endorphins are really powerful I have to say, as was the uplifting Nick Cave tune I had turned up to 11 on my iPod, There She Goes, My Beautiful One. If you know the tune, you'll know what I mean, if not, go get and have a listen. I think you'll agree.
I also worked in some speed training after some good advice from a couple of regular readers, so thanks John and Dave for that. If nothing else it made me feel better to think I was doing something positive about the speed issue.
Now I'm looking forward to tomorrow's scheduled two hour run, as long as it doesn't rain. But I can really see what people mean about the addictive nature of something like this. I felt like a smackhead going cold turkey for days after Sunday, but Thursday night's fix brought me right back up again and I was on top of the world. Difference is I don't have to mug old ladies for £10 to get my fix, well, not these days anyway! (Or ever, honest).