Back In Training

Having turned out to be a lot worse than I thought my knee injury is now beginning to recover. I have spent the last five weeks resting. Funny really, I spent 20 years resting followed by ten weeks training and then more resting.


So today I got back into things and tried to run. I managed a whole two minutes before the knee began to feel uncomfortable again. Fortunately I have a Plan B - Cross Trainer. The Cross Trainer is a low impact exercise machine that is meant to simulate cross country skiing. I was initially unsure about approaching this machine as my only previous experience of skiing wasn't something I look back on fondly. Anything that simulates it has to be bad.


It was whilst Andrea and I were on holiday in Colorado that our friend Erika offered to teach us to ski. Now, Erika is an accomplished skier and highly qualified teaching professional so I thought if anyone could teach me to ski, this was the woman to do it.

The difficulty I have is the fact that I am so tall. At 6ft 6 it takes a lot longer for the brain signals to reach my arms and legs. Often the instructions produced by my brain never actually reach my arms and legs. They simply dissipate somewhere along my nervous system.


I never really took to skiing because I never really got to do any of it. Every time I tried to get off the ski lift I would end up in a crumpled heap, trapped under the chair with emergency buzzers going off. There is nothing more sobering than a series of derisory comments from a group of under ten year olds - yes, I was on the nursery slops.


Maybe now you have an insight into why I haven't previously warmed to the idea of something that simulates being on skis.

I have read that when injured, if you cannot run then you need to train for the same length of time on other equipment rather than the same distance. This makes sense so I set out to cross train for 40 minutes. Having not trained for 35 days I expected to have lost fitness. Yesterday I went out to buy two new T-Shirts, size XXL, a testament to the fact that again I had probably eaten too many chocolate biscuits.


So now it is time to really take this seriously. No more chocolate or fried food. Only Super Foods from this point on. Breakfast was Super Food Muesli, lunch was raw Super Food veggies.


The good news is that although I have lost fitness, the completion of the Leeds 10k has obviously changed my mindset. Rather than feeling miserable and wanting to give up after the first 10 minutes I have obviously developed a new threshold. Forty minutes of exercise with my heart rate at the target of 161 bpm seemed easy, if not gentle compared to double this time on the roads in Leeds.


Inspired by this success I will continue to cross train, loose weight and strengthen my knee

Leeds 10K Race Day

It's just a few hours after the Leeds 10K. The fact that I am writing this confirms that I did not have to make use of the excellent medical facilities provided by Leeds City Council.

The whole organisation was excellent. Car parking was clear. We did manage to forget to take the car keys with us when we left the car (busy focusing on making sure I had taken on enough fluids and had my race number on the right way up) but a very honest local handed them in.

So we walked the short distance from the car park to the holding area for runners. Andrea took my bag and waved me off as I wandered wide eyed into the square full of almost 10,000 people. Before I could get my bearings the announcement came that Richard Hill was about to come on stage to do the mass warm up. Richard was announced in a way that suggested I should have heard of him. As Richard and his supporting cast arrived on stage I realised that I had never heard of him but I was apparently about to do everything he told me to do.

What followed was nothing short of brilliant. 9999 people all waved their arms, jumped up and down, bent, stretched and danced in total unison. I however, did not. I jumped up and down, bent, stretched and danced in total unison with only myself. Fifteen minutes passed in the blink of an eye and by the end I was shattered. The thought of running 6 miles following this fifteen minutes of random flailing was exhausting.

The next announcement was to make sure we all went to the start line in the right order. Fifty minuters first, then sixty minuters etc. I filed in at the back of the joggers but ahead of the walkers. On the whole it wasn't difficult to tell where I should stand. The faster, skinny runners went first, followed by the medium sized runners and then the larger types.

As we all shuffled towards the start, I began to look around for my target. Which of the fancy dress runners did I not want to be beaten by? Initially I spotted Superman, Wonder Woman, Spider Man, even Banana Man. Only a fool would pick Superheroes to race against so I decided to let these go. The two old men in drag seemed a little too easy as did the Sumo Wrestlers. Finally, through the crowd I spotted the Cave People. Three Cave Girls and a Cave Man carrying a club. They looked like they could run, but I felt I had a chance of beating them. After all, I am about 10,000 years ahead in evolutionary terms.

The first 2 kilometres went well. I bounced along with the crowd at a steady pace. I only stopped running for a few moments as I was hit in the face by one of the balloon people. The first hill came just after 2k and I began to slow. I was keeping up with the Cave People. Occasionally they would pass me but then I would surge passed them. This continued until the big hill at 4 kilometres. This was into the wind and the wind was gusting up to 60mph. I had to walk this and the Cave People were out of sight.

The next 2 kilometres were uneventful and difficult. Now that my target was lost I scratched around for another fancy dresser to focus on. There were a couple of options, a man in a silk robe and a couple of ladies with large hats, but I couldn't get away from the fact that I had chosen the Cave People and they were now gone.

The Gatorade station just after half way was welcome. It was marked by a giant inflatable Gatorade bottle which loomed like a great orange beacon of hope over the turning point in the course.

It turns out, Gatorade is an orangy, sweet drink full of useful carbohydrates. It was served in paper cups and thousands of these were then discarded over the next 300 metres. So, as welcome as the Gatorade was, sticking to the road for the next 300 metres was not! It was here that my right knee began to feel a bit sore.

Maybe this was a warning sign?

What followed was probably the best, most uplifting thing I could have seen. The queue for the toilets. The five porta loos were obviously not sufficient to serve all 11,000 runners and so those who needed to avail themselves of the facility had to stand in line. And in this line were four Cave People.

Ahead of the Cave People again I began to focus on the final three kilometres. My right knee was beginning to feel like it was full of broken glass every time I landed on it but I was on the final stretch.

Up until this point all of the spectators had been clapping politely and shouting encouragements such as "come on, you can do it" or "not far now". I am not going to criticise these platitudes as all of these people have taken time out of their weekend to stand and cheer. What followed next was possibly the greatest piece of spectating I had ever seen. Sat on the steps of one of Leeds' various office buildings were three drunks. It was 10 o'clock on a Sunday morning and they looked like they were spending their morning the same way as they spend every morning. Each of them had a can of special brew and they were making accurate if not a little harsh observations on the events unfolding in front of them. As I passed, the older of the three shouted, "You look knackered!"

The final kilometre arrived and I began to speed up for the big finish. At this point one of the Cave People came passed. I couldn't believe it, they had caught me. Imagine my delight as I realised that she was alone. She would have to wait for the other three so victory was assured. As I crossed the line I heard the commentator say, "..and here come the Cave Men and Women..." they weren't ahead of me so they must have been behind - success!

One hour twenty one minutes 35 seconds. Only one minute slower than the time I expected (not bad in 60mph winds) and I could still walk............. Back to training next week.

The Dress Rehearsal

One week to go to the Leeds 10k and today was the last big training day before the event. The last chance to build confidence, check my preparation and predict a time for the 10k.

Earlier in the week I planned the route. Four miles (6.5km) of roads with some hills and variation. I went shopping for energy bars, energy drinks, knee supports and other items that would obviously make all the difference to my performance.

Maybe it was psychological but as I left the house I felt confident, almost energetic. Although it may just have been the energy bar and drink effecting my brain. I started the stopwatch and began to run.

The first mile took 11 minutes. Not bad I thought and I wasn't feeling too bad. By the second mile, completed after 23 minutes I was still feeling OK but I was aware that it was getting harder up the hills, still, I consoled myself with the fact that it was easier on the way down.

During the third mile a cyclist came past me but then slowed a little. I thought, "maybe I can catch him back up". Using this moving object as a pace setter I took off towards him. All was going well, I had something to pace to and for the first time I was not focusing on what appears to be the endless road.

Unfortunately in focusing on my new target I forgot to take notice of what I was running on and tripped over a curbstone.....ouch!

I gave up on my moving target and looked to simply finish the distance without any further injuries, completing the four miles in 48minutes 10 seconds. With only two more training sessions before race day the focus now shifts to rest and preparation.

The Countdown

Fifteen days to go until the Leeds 10K. I haven't trained for two weeks and I'm still not over the Man Flu.

But fear of failure has driven me out of bed and for the first time onto the roads. Up to now I have trained in the gym on various treadmills but with only two weeks left, I have a lot of training to catch up on.

So, how did I do this morning?

Looking on the plus side, I was out for 30 minutes and didn't stop moving forward the whole time. Three hours after my run, I don't feel too bad. But 3 hours ago it was a very different picture. For the first time in 20 years I was reminded why I hated cross country running.

I began by warming up, stretching and then a brisk walk for a couple of minutes. I turned on my I Pod and began the motivational sounds and comments of one of those large, smiling American types. The first stage of this background noise was incantations......

"All I need is within me now", "Every day in every way I'm feeling better and better!"

The first incantation phase lasts for three minutes and at the end there is a period of 30 seconds of wheezing.

Actually, that isn't part of the program but that was all that I could hear. My heart was pounding and my windpipe had shrunk to a third of it's normal size.

Had I really become so unfit in only two weeks?

Next came the terrain. Today I was reminded that the outside has hills. These hills are much harder to run on than a treadmill. On the way up the first of these hills, I comforted myself that they are much easier to run down.

How wrong could I have been. When you weigh 19 stone running downhill becomes a battle of man against gravity, and gravity often wins. As I built up momentum and felt the wind in my hair (well, maybe not in my hair but at least I felt the wind against my nearly bald scalp) I initially thought..."this is great, I am really making progress". I could also hear the "All I need is within me now" incantation blasting from my I Pod.

Unfortunately I realised as I approached the bottom of the hill that all I needed wasn't actually within me now as, what I needed most was the ability to stop!....Ouch.

So I will take this as a wake up call and knuckle down over the next 15 days. And just in case today's experience wasn't enough to motivate me to train harder I received the race details yesterday. It appears that everyone goes home after 2 hours so, if i haven't finished within the time, I will be dodging the traffic.

The Curse of Man Flu!

Yes, it had to happen. I was hoping to get through the Summer and maybe even past the Tatton 10K in September before being struck down but last weekend whilst still basking in the glory of my recent training success I was taken in my prime. This isn't just normal Man Flu, I am suffering from a particularly debilitating form of the condition.

This is Man Flu that only effects the throat and chest and manifests itself in severe shortness of breath and a complete loss of vocal capacity. The symptoms extend to shortness of temper and a great deal of arm waving and picture drawing in a vain attempt to communicate with those around me.

For a week I have been treating this condition with multivitamins, pain killers and large quantities of chocolate biscuits, soaked in Tea as I have been unable to eat solids due to the contraction my vocal chords.

Training has had to be suspended for the last seven days. I am now beginning to get nervous about the Leeds 10k in three weeks. I am yet to run more than 5K and will need to push myself over the next 21 days. I have decided that if I cannot train for the next couple of days, I can at least loose some of the chocolate biscuit weight -it's five a day and pulses for the next week!

Week 3

I can't believe it! The end of the third week and I am actually beginning to feel like a runner. I haven't lost any weight yet - still eating too many biscuits - but training has been going much better than I expected.

The first seven minutes of each session are always dreadful. It is a battle between the fat, lazy part of me and the part of me that doesn't want to end up in hospital on Marathon day.

Amazingly something happens in the brain at around eight minutes and everything begins to feel better. The aches and breathlessness begin to fade and I settle into a rhythm and a sense of euphoria at the simple achievement of not giving up.

Apparently this is something to do with endorphins. I believe these are tiny little fish like creatures that swim around in your brain tickling the happy sensors. Endorphins spend most of the time imprisoned but are released when you exercise, eat chocolate or eat hot foods like curry and chili.



I have spent the last twenty years releasing endorphins using the curry and chocolate methods which is of course counter productive and has resulted in the need for me to call this Blog FAT MEN can't run. Without the endorphin releasing chocolate and curry I may have been able to call it "I am a thin man running another Marathon".

I admit, this title may not have sparked your interest as much as the fat version and it would have been far more difficult to write the triumph over adversity story that I intend to but it would have been easier on my knees to run at below 19 stone.

Mary called today!

Well actually, it wasn't today but that is what I would have called this post had I written it on the day that Mary did call.

Mary is a lovely lady from Barnados. She is coordinating the team and fundraising for the 2009 London Marathon. I have spoken to Mary a few times as in order to get a place in the Marathon it is better to affiliate with a charity. You can go through a public ballot but based on the fact that the ballot is in October, I didn't feel much like doing six months of training only to find out I couldn't get in.

Mary called to let me know that I had been selected by Barnados to run for them. The only thing I have to do in return is train for the next 47 weeks and guarantee to raise £1600 in sponsorship. If I don't raise £1600 then I have to pay it myself.........potentially an expensive way to see London!

So fundraising starts now. Barnados have provided a number of hints and tips from selling your belongings on Ebay to selling cakes at work. Neither of these options appeal, I am quite attached to my belongings and I would probably eat most of the cakes. I therefore must come up with new, imaginative ways to raise the money.......................mmmm!?

Day 7

The end of the first week. A week in which I have tested my body to destruction. Well a week in which I have trained three out of the four sessions planned. Not bad considering the number of times I have written a training plan and then given up after the first weekend.

The injury list is already growing. Sore left hip, graized right knee and a sore toe. The toe injury occurred during my second training session. The unfortunate product of having an unusually protruding second toe.

This has always been the case, but the combination of new running shoes and the unusual activity of actually running in them caused my extra long toe to explode. The ensuing pain caused me to investigate the cause and on taking my running shoe off I realised that my new special running ankle socks (bought with the shoes on the advice of the "Fitness Expert") were not only good for rapid sweat absorption but also for rapid blood absorption!

Even closer inspection revealed that the injury was a tiny toe nail nick. It was the special "wicking" technology in the sock that made the blood spread in a way that I hadn't seen since first discovering blotting paper when we were first taught to use a fountain pen at school.
I always ended up with more ink on my hands and up my arms that on the paper. If only they had invented special "wicking" fountain pen training gloves.

The graized knee was actually caused whilst I was painting the bathroom on the day when I skipped training. A salutary lesson that I will keep with me for the next 49 weeks.

So today, at the end of week one, I completed 3.3 miles during my training session. Amazingly I don't feel too bad. Next week the distances get longer, let's hope my body can stand up to the punishment!

And so it begins.....

That's it, I have completed my training plan. Fifty weeks, starting with gentle walking in 30 minute sessions and culminating in 18 milers just before The Big One. As you can see, I am already starting to use the language of the long distance runner.

I am very pleased with the plan. I have scheduled a number of actual races to gauge my progress. Some have been easy to enter, whilst others are more difficult. The highlights of the plan are as follows:

22/06/08: Leeds 10k
21/09/08: Tatton Park 10k
07/12/08: Santa 2k Snowdonia
10/01/09: Edinburgh Winter Run 5k
09/02/09: Longleat 10k
22/03/09: Wilmslow 1/2 Marathon
26/04/09: Flora London Marathon

I couldn't resist the Santa run in Snowdonia. I thought it would give me an insight into running in fancy dress prior to the Marathon. Haven't decided if I will run the Marathon in fancy dress or in serious athlete stuff. I expect I will make a decision nearer the time depending on the times I am running. If it looks like I could win it, I will probably ditch the Rhino costume.

Longleat should give me some motivation, what with all the wild animals, hungry for fresh meat. I expect to get a PB here.

So there it is. I have scheduled races (some of which I still need to register for) and put my entire training plan into a colour coded spreadsheet. Now, all I have to do is complete it. Fifty weeks, seven races, one overweight would be Marathon runner.

Preparation H

Yes, that's right. My extensive research into Marathon Running have yielded the following nuggets of information. To be a Marathon Runner I need to buy plasters, Vaseline and Preparation H.

The plasters prevent nipple rub caused by friction. The Vaseline prevents chafing of those delicate areas caused predominantly by having chunky upper legs and thighs - a by-product of enjoying too many chocolate biscuits.

Finally, Preparation H is used to speed up the process of healing...................blisters! It's intended use has yet to feature in any of the Marathon running research I have conducted. If however I find a link between Marathon running and Hemorrhoids, I will report it immediately in these pages.

I will shop this week for all three items. The application of which will go alongside the practice of taking an ice cold bath at the end of each training session. This apparently works well for Premiership Footballers in the prevention of cramp and muscle stiffness.

I am told that the heated seats of a Bentley Continental also aid muscle stiffness but as I am not a Premiership Footballer I will have to settle for the ice cold bath. Now I wish I had gone to summer holiday football practice when I was a child instead of watching all those 1930's episodes of Flash Gordon. If only each one hadn't ended on a cliff hanger with Flash certain to die at the hands of the evil Ming the Merciless!

Fail to prepare....etc

My favourite part of any new project has always been preparation. With preparation you get all of the buzz of being involved but none of the pain. This goes back to my school days when I would spend hours drawing out a revision timetable. I would then ignore the revision timetable and have to draw it out again.

So, understanding how it works, I started preparing for the Marathon 2 weeks ago. The first thing I did was to declare to everyone, "I am going to run the London Marathon!" This was met with a consistent response. Over the years, my closest friends and family have seen this before. I make grand statements, often very grand statements. Often these statements are followed up with little or no action. The people I love most have learned to tune this noise out. Was this going to be another grand statement?

Usually the person that takes my declarations most seriously is my Mum and this time was no exception. Twenty four hours after telling Mum that I was going to run a Marathon I received a call. "I am going to buy your running shoes!"

I explained to Mum that running shoes were expensive and I was planning to buy some good ones at the weekend. My Mum is one of those people who get an idea in their head and will not take no for an answer. She had decided that I was incapable of choosing and buying the correct pair of running shoes and without them I would suffer a succession of crippling injuries.

Never being one to swim against the tide I caved in and agreed to let Mum buy my shoes. I did however offer something in return. Mums never loose the urge to nurture and my Mum is no different so if she was going to buy me the shoes, the least I could do was let her take me shopping.

Last week, for the first time since I was 13 years old, me and my Mum went shoe shopping. Armed with 10 minutes research on various Internet sites we arrived at JJB Sports and headed straight to the back wall. Here you can find a baffling array of trainers, running shoes, fashion shoes, astro turf shoes and many more.

What followed was 10 minutes of orientation which concluded in the realisation that we didn't have a clue what we were looking for. My Mum decided that we needed to enlist the help of an expert. Turning to the chubby, bald, 50 old wearing a suit stood next to her she asked, "Which are the best shoes for running?"

The nice chubby man looked slightly startled. Obviously he didn't work for JJB Sports so why was this women asking him about running shoes? He was equally baffled by the different types of shoes. Mum concluded that this man couldn't help and like an Exocet missile took aim at a real shop assistant.

The shop assistant in question was a pleasant girl, about 18 years old. I suspect that she was working there to supplement her income whilst at college. Mum called her over and proudly declared, "My son is running the Marathon and needs really good running shoes."
I imagine that this girl has met many people in the course of her work but never a 34 year old fat man buying shoes with his Mother. At best, I imagine that she thought I was a little slow.

Knowing that I needed to recover my credibility quickly I embarked on a diatribe of technical jargon in relation to the type of shoe I needed. I used phrases like "Motion Control" and "Over Pronation" which I had remembered from my 10 minutes of Internet research.

The shop assistant now thought that I was a little slow but had an obsessive technical knowledge of running shoes. She had a look of concern. Maybe I was a little autistic. She gave me a sympathetic smile and asked, "What colour running shoe would you like?"

I replied, "Please bring me anything you have in a size twelve." A short time later she returned with a box containing a pair of silver Nike Air Pegasus+ running shoes. I tried them on, they fitted and I am not ashamed to admit that for the first time in this project I felt a little bit special. There is something about buying expensive equipment that makes you feel you have taken another step towards your goal. My garage is full of dusty, expensive equipment from past projects.

So armed with my new shoes, I only had one more thing to complete before getting down to the real hard graft. Draw up a training timetable.

Day One, Week One

Well, here goes. Day One, Week One. If you're not bored yet you may be asking, Day One, Week One of what?

Maybe I should begin by introducing myself. I'm a fat (19 stone) Early Middle Aged (34) Over Tall (6ft 6ins) non running, unfit, average bloke. I haven't done any exercise of any sort since I was 14 years old. I go to work. I watch TV and I sleep.

I am going to run the London Marathon. I am doing this not to prove something to myself, or to prove something to anyone else. I'm not trying to raise huge amounts of money for charity (although that will be a nice by-product) or to make any political statements. I am simply interested in what happens when you run a Marathon.

Every April I find myself on FLM (that's what real Runners call the Flora London Marathon) day sat on my sofa watching thousands of people running, walking, staggering around London, each achieving their own personal goal. It's like watching thousands of It's a Knockout contestants climbing their very own Everest but without Stuart Hall laughing at them in commentary.

This year I finally thought, "Why?" You would think that this question would have struck me during one of the last 25 runnings of the event. Not so. In previous years I have simply accepted that this happens. Every April, thousands of people descend on London, covered in Vaseline and hemorrhoid cream and run.

So, without any other agenda, I am going to run the London Marathon. Simply to find out what it is that makes people do it. Why they keep coming back and why some of them insist on making it harder on themselves by dressing up in all manor of costumes.

So, today is Day One of Week One of the 50 week build up to the FLM 2009. Sorry, I am not a runner so I am not allowed to call it that. For now, I will just call it The London Marathon.......don't want to get ahead of myself.