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.