My 2 runs at the weekend left me a little worried about my pace.

In the week leading up to my shin splints, I had been making great progress with both my speed and distance and when injury struck I was forced into resting for 5 days it all seemed to fall apart.

Fortunately I proved that my training sub 2-hour half marathon wasn’t a one-off,

Positive thinking on the run.

I didn’t go out with speed work in mind. If I told myself from the start that I had to sustain a 9 minute mile pace for an entire run, I’d cave under the pressure.

I kept all inner chat positive by striving to be well under a 10 minute mile average. This might seem totally unambitious, but it’s merely a ploy to con my mind into a positive state.

What I’ve noticed is that I am more likely to do speed bursts when I’m happy and confident on the run. If my body is sluggish to start, then my mind will react with negative thoughts and I’ll react by tensing up.

Under promise, over deliver.

So by keeping my target pace low, I exceed my expectations and believe that I’m succeeding.

My mind and body react to the positivity and I begin to run much better than normal.

This feeds back into my mind and I then throw even more speed bursts into the mix and it feels amazing.

My new target – run 10 miles as close to 90 minutes as often as possible.

My next half marathon in Dublin in August will be a sub 2 hour run for me. To train for it I’m gonna keep running 10 miles but come as close to 90 minutes as I can on each workout.

If I can run the first 10 miles in 90 minutes, that leaves me with a 30 minute 5k for a sub 2 hour half marathon.

Even if I manage the distance in 92 or 93 minutes, I will still have the opportunity to hit my target. A sub 28 minute 5k isn’t out of my reach at all.

My plan is to not only run a sub 2 hour half marathon, but to smash it so that I never have to worry about this goal ever again.

Onwards and upwards.

It will be 15th time lucky In August for me.

I have the sub 2 within my grasp, I just need to keep moving forward and sprinting whilst I’m positive!

This time I won’t be silly enough to create a crazy forfeit for myself if I don’t achieve my goal.

Either way no one would have gained anything from this threat. 

I ran again today, this time covering 11.35 miles in 112 minutes. It was a good run up until I made a fool of myself just short of a mile from home. I was already annoyed as I had another stone in my shoe and decided to wait until I was home to remove it.

Runner’s Tourette’s?

I think I might have Tourette’s syndrome but only when I run. I don’t want to belittle what is a harrowing neurological condition, but today’s episode proves that I’m not well.

I was running in the dark and talking to myself out loud as usual.

When I run I sometimes suffer from cringing mental episodes where I think back to something that’s happened in the past and I blast out words as a way to quiet my mind.

At the minute I like to shout “FLAPS!”, “FREE CRACK!” or my new all time favourite “BUY ONE GET ONE FREE, YOU CUNT!”

Running through difficult mental episodes.

I typically only talk to myself if I’m experiencing problems on the run. Normally it will be “you can do this!” or “only 5 minutes more until this is all over” amongst other things just to try to encourage myself along.

I think a certain amount of self-talk on the run is healthy, but today’s utterance was overheard by a third party.

You see I didn’t notice that I wasn’t alone on this particular stretch of road. It was getting dark and I could barely see 10 foot in front of me.

So when I half-shouted “you can do this, you great big hairy twat!!” in the presence of a man out walking his dog, it caused a shit load of embarrassment.

I couldn’t pretend that I was on the phone. I couldn’t pretend that I was singing.

I just bowed my head in shame and ran onwards as if it didn’t happen.

I couldn’t be bothered explaining to him that my words weren’t targeted in his general direction.

Fortunately he didn’t say anything, but he did hesitate as if he was gonna bring the issue up.

Talk about lucky.

It all leaves some unanswered questions.

Who was the great big hairy twat? Why did he need encouragement?

Most importantly for the man, who was this foul mouthed man in the Newcastle United top and the crew cut that was barking encouragement at foot soldiers who only existed in his mind?

I’ve had many near-misses like this before, but this is the first time that I’ve been certain that another human being has heard my talking to myself when running.

So what’s the answer to all of this?

Do I have to stop talking to myself on the run?

No.

I just have to be more careful. I’m used to running at 5am in the morning when there’s no-one else around.

I could effectively run around in circles for an hour shouting “CUNT!” 150 times a minute and not offend another soul.

Now that I’m running in the evenings, I have to watch my step.

I have to be considerate to other human beings.

The last thing I want do is shout “BUY ONE GET ONE FREE YOU CUNT!” just as I pass an old lady.

That could have more dire consequences.

Since it’s a bank holiday here I’ve been drinking a bit more than usual over the weekend.

This couldn’t have explained the level of fear I awoke with this morning though.

Sunday morning booze terror?

I’ve realised for a few years that rather than being a relaxant, alcohol only seems to intensify anxiety in the long run.

This morning I woke at 3am with a real sense of dread. I’ve experienced this before to a lesser degree, but this time it was intensified by the sweltering heat and the insomnia that was tied to it.

I watched the minutes pass on my clock ever so slowly but the fear made time stall.

Either my basal ganglia was shot and fucked by the half bottle of Whiskey on the previous evening, or by my insistence on playing ‘Private Idaho’ by the B-52s on repeat for about 7 hours.

It was fucking horrible just waiting there with nothing to do but hoping it would pass and I could just relax a little.

Thankfully the sun came up around 4am and the dread disappeared with the darkness.

Sleep disturbed!

I had a nightmare in which Kate Pierson died and was replaced on keyboards by an ostrich that Schneider had trained to screech and press the right keys on the organ in the right order.

I was quite upset at the time, but now that I’ve had time to think on it more bands should try replacing integral members with birds.

Brandon Flowers could be replaced cheaply and effectively with a Congolese Peacock and no-one would bat a fucking eyelid.

Only a dream…..

I woke at 10am feeling like shit.

Whenever I’ve had a hard night I seem to run so much better in the next morning. Everything seems more real, vital and it’s as if I think that my next run could be my last run.

I also try to tire myself out on the next run so that I don’t wake up at 2am with the dread again.

If I put 110% into the run, then I’ll be able to have some rest and not have to worry about living out the weird shit in my head as reality.

I wish I could run 25 miles on a whim, tire myself out and not have to contend with any of the bullshit.

A 13.2 mile run today with 270m of elevation gain.

So I went out with ‘Private Idaho’ ringing in my head and managed to successfully run the course I’d planned on running this time last week.

I attribute the following advice from the Full Potential Twitter account for my success.

I didn’t bother checking my pace at any point in the run, I was more interested in staying in control of my breathing and drinking from my bottle regularly.

I started panicing a little on the hill for a short period as I was worried I was losing control. So I slowed right down and focused 100% of my concentration on my breathing.

It turned out to be one of my best and most enjoyable runs this year and my mindset is so much better compared to this morning.

Now if only I could stop listening to the B-52’s….

It’s the small decisions now that will make all of the difference to how you feel on race day.

Last time around in my Belfast Marathon training I ruined my training by giving up too easily on healthy eating. I always assumed I’d be able to run all of my excess weight off anyway.

I labelled overeating as ‘carb-loading’ and started seeing it as a ritual almost.

But the truth is I never lost the pounds I gained in the lead-up to the next marathon. I’m not running to maintain my weight. I need to stop sabotaging my own progress.

This pretty much summed up my attitude for the last 2 marathons.

I don’t want to feel shitty before a marathon again. The taper is enough of an emotional maelstrom without worrying about if my body is ready.

Over the past two years I’ve felt constrained by a healthy diet. It ‘s as if I can’t be myself without eating a cosmic fuckton of Pot Noodles and cheese. I’m then caught in a cycle of eating food for the sake of it and it’s tremendously difficult habit to break.

True freedom comes with the ability to say no, not from giving into indulgence and being a slave to chocolate.

If you’re a slave to a feeling or a sensation, then you couldn’t be any less free.

Deflated About Being Back To A Normal Lifestyle..

I’m enjoying healthy food now after the gorge-fest that was December. I can only consume so much chocolate and Southern Comfort before I go fishing for sprouts and grapes.

But I still don’t feel like myself. My sleeping is shit and I find nights difficult to deal with. During the day I can draw from my anger as fuel. By night-time that energy disintegrates into boredom, dismay and/or regret.

I get the impression that the same anger that fuels my running has a negative aspect to it that only comes out at night.

In the past I’ve used food as an escape from the discomfort but it’s a placebo effect and I ultimately feel worse for it in the morning.

Blocking It Out Isn’t The Way To Deal With It…

Food, booze, religion and drugs are all stop gaps to fill the large void most of us feel inside. The problem is that you become dependant on them and they bite back and swallow what’s left of you.

In an ideal world I’d be free of all of those influences. But that’s obviously not the case at the minute.

I won’t defeat it either by wishing I was different. I’ve got to start to be different by accepting where I am and moving forward.

Working On It Little By Little.

I keep myself sedated with reality TV and then just wait for morning to arrive and for a new day to begin.

But night time is hard and it’s been my great undoing in the past 2 years. I’ve ate so much unnecessary shit at night that it’s stopped me ever acquiring a healthy weight.

I need to make the correct decisions more often.

I’ve been a drinker since early adulthood and it has caused me quite a lot of pain over the years. Coming from Northern Ireland, there is little else to do around here besides drink Guinness, paint rival flags on sheep and savage badgers with rolling pins.

Whilst I wouldn’t consider myself as an alcoholic, I’ve certainly went through a phase of drinking too much and feeling bad about it.

It took me 8 years to learn that alcohol ultimately made me depressed, fatter and more confused with my own life.

The vicious cycle of alcohol, fear and paranoia

Alcohol is marketed as a relaxant by the media but if you drink enough of it, it has the complete opposite effect.

The morning after paranoia feeds into fear which breeds anxiety which turns to hate which dissolves into paranoia.

Those very thoughts feed into a vicious cycle that makes you want to pick up the bottle again to drown out all of the drunken arguments you’ve gotten into and all the silly things you might have done.

If you spend your waking hours cringing about your drunken antics, then it will only get worse and worse the more you feed into the cycle.

The problem and the answer then become the same, but when you’re depressed you only see it as the answer.

Running has saved me from problem drinking self

Like alcohol, running is addictive but it only seems to improve my life rather than restricting it and messing it up.

I’ve never came back from a night out drinking with the thought ‘Shit I wish I’d drank more last night!’.

I’ve never came back from a day out running with the thought ‘Shit I wish I hadn’t run as far.’

The longer I run the more my body might ache, but the clearer my mind will feel afterwards.

Running isn’t about denial, binge/problem drinking is.

My problems still exist when I’m outside jogging, it’s just I see them in perspective and I can begin picking them off one by one, as opposed to feeling overwhelmed by everything and hiding within the depths of a booze binge.

In short, running is an addiction worth pursuing.

Feeling bad about your drinking?

If you’re feeling hopeless about alcohol and are looking for a way out, try running. It will add a little bit of positivity to your life and you’ll feel better over time.

The key to battling your way out of the hell of problem drinking is to reduce the net negativity in your life. You don’t have to cut booze out altogether, but you can take steps forward by reducing your intake. When you drink less, less bad things happen.

When you find a little bit of peace, you won’t want to drink for the wrong reasons. You naturally drink less and feel better as there’s less and less to hide from.

When you run more you will naturally attract more positivity into your life and you’ll rely less on a chemical to feel good about yourself. You’ll quickly learn that the ‘peace’ that alcohol gives you pales in comparison to the high you receive from running.

Running your way to happiness.

The more I run, the better I can see how trapped I was before. I’d spend days thinking that I was a good guy who was shunned for being shy. That filled me with resentment which I would repress. Then when I drank all of the bile flew out of me and I didn’t understand where it was coming from.

I’d quickly feel sorry about my behaviour and act polite again and repress everything.

Running has given me the confidence and self-awareness to stand up to a situation and to be angry when it is justified, instead of apologising for existing.

It has given me the balls to live my life in the way I want to live it.

Well it’s been a week since but I’ve had time to reflect on the experience and here are 12 things that I’ve learnt about myself as a runner.

1. I have a very poor fuelling strategy – Sometimes I treat my body like it’s a machine. I just pump myself full of Eric the Elephants and Percy Pigs and expect my legs to carry me home in record-time like I’m filling up a Fiesta with Premium Shit. Then I have the audacity to wonder why I’m experiencing traumatic shit attacks. My stomach is not a machine. It will retaliate my expelling anything it does not like right out of my holio.
2. I am resilient as a runner – Run-walking for 8 hours without giving up, shows that I am tougher than I originally thought. I think that the more you keep battling the more patience and resilience you’re graced with.
3. I’ve learned that I no longer care what other people think – I broke down in tears in front of a picnicking family, my face was encrusted with gels for around fucking 15 miles and I had to ask the Minister of Justice for Northern Ireland if it was OK to use a Country Park as a public toilet. Who gives a fuck if I run like a woman?
4. I have learnt that I have a lot in common with other runners – Especially ultra runners. The guys I met out in the field had the same doubts and same grievances but they ultimately pulled through! It’s easy to retreat into your own mind and internalise your doubts. You start to feel alone and the running field seems hostile. This isn’t the reality of the situation and the ultra marathon taught me that everyone out there is essentially the same. It’s too easy to see the running pack as one big group that you don’t belong to. This is not the case.
5. I can continue on and complete a race even when I think my race is over – I wanted to quit the race after I got lost, but quickly came to the conclusion that there’s no peace in surrender. Your race doesn’t stop if you just quit for a break. You can and will complete it if you keep putting one foot in front of the other. It might take 2 hours or 8 hours but you will get there.
6. I can complete a race that I haven’t trained properly for – It may have hurt like hell, but I got through it. As with any race distance you have to respect the challenge ahead and train appropriately to make the most out of it. But you are capable of more than you think, if you just try. Sometimes have you to try for the self-belief to arrive. It won’t come on its own.
7. Finishing last isn’t as bad as I thought it would be – I’m someone who experiences a lot of anxiety dreams where I flunk all of my old school exams and end up being sold by the Queen of England to Thailand as a cock-eyed ladyboy. Finishing last in a race was the worst thing that I thought could happen to me as a runner. Halfway through the 50k I thought a DNF would be better than an 8 hour finish because at least then I could make excuses for myself ‘yeah I’m capable of a sub 5 finish it’s just that I accidentally sprayed Deep Heat onto my balls on race morning!’. Finishing at all was 1,000,000 times better than not finishing.
8. The mileage limits I’ve been placing upon myself are arbitrary – Before entering the 50k I was really struggling with hitting 15-16 mile long runs. The week after I entered it, I ran my first ever 20 miler in training and then completed the race itself the week after. By smashing through the barriers in the 50k I’m no longer willing to place mental limits on how far can run.
9. I’ve realised that I am an ultra runner – OK, I might be a really new ultra runner who hasn’t a clue what he’s doing, but that doesn’t stop being a finisher in an ultra marathon. When I first started running I didn’t feel like a runner after completing my first race. This belief didn’t help me any. I ran less. I tried less. I cared less.  Then it dawned on me that sometimes you have to at least pretend that you are a runner to actually become one. Fake it until you make it and all of that hippy bullshit.
10. I capitulate far too easily – And make bad decisions off the back of fear of collapse. My intake of 6 isotonic gels in Bangor and the subsequent toileting afterwards is a good example of me freaking out a little too quickly. Sometimes it pays to relax, breathe a little and carry on with your race. When you’re out on your own and scared out of your mind, it’s harder to do. But your ability to handle crises comes with experience.
11. I’m too unwilling to buy new footwear – OK I’ll admit that I was wrong and that it’s sensible to change your shoes every 500 miles. By the time I’d finished the 50k the soles on my shoes had one key similarity to a pharmacy in the Vatican. No rubber anywhere.
12. Sometimes it’s better to run with music – As you may well know, I don’t run with tunes. I’m thinking twice about this now after Angry Jogger FM played the single “This Race Is Fucking Shit And I’m Never Running Again” on repeat for 8 fucking hours. Music can act as a great distraction from your own bullshit thoughts and help you establish a rhythm.

For the past 4 months I’ve been demoralised about my inability to control my violent urges for food at night. I’ll track everything I eat up until around 8pm and then my stomach will begin to growl.

The uneasiness within will grow to such a level that I’ll be forced out of boredom or lack of self control to eat anything. Once I eat one thing, my appetite will gain momentum. The “What the fuck, I might as make this a feast now as I’ve ruined my eating plan” rises to the fore.

It’s those extra calories at night that are hampering my running. It’s not as if my calorie intake is vastly surpassing the energy I burn. In fact I’ve stayed at 211lbs now for about 3 months so I think I’m just about breaking even.

I need to catch those thoughts before they become urges. I mean, it’s OK to eat something at night. It’s just the gung-ho attitude that emerges after I eat one item that’s the issue.

A bad day doesn’t become a bad day until I throw in the towel and give in to the old routine.

My “fuck it” attitude is self defeating.

I rationalise it to myself by thinking “Well I can always run it off tomorrow!”. That may be true, but I’m not running solely to maintain my weight. I want to get faster and go further. I hate the feeling that I’m making reparations for the bad choices I made the night before. I should be making physical gains with each run, not just mental gains.

The simple fact is that I don’t need the extra calories. I’m already eating well over 3,000 a day. That’s more than enough to keep my body going even if I’m running 35 miles a week and walking 30.

It’s a battle that I’m still fighting. I haven’t lost to it yet as I’ve maintained the same weight since July and I’ve learnt more about what triggers the overeating at times. There won’t be a eureka moment where all my problems are solved. I need to focus on making better decisions when the challenge arrives.

I don’t have to make the right decision 100% of the time. 51% of the time would be a fucking start!

13.6 Mile Long Slow Run

An uneventful but pleasant run. I set out with the intention of running further than the 13.5 miles I ran last week and I achieved it even if it was only by a tenth of a mile.

I’m glad to report that my nipples are no longer an issue ever since I’ve applied the Bodyglide and the Vaseline on top! Such a fucking relief. There will be no weeping or screaming in the shower tomorrow.

I had only one angry moment today. It was when a girl disembarked a bus and stopped on the middle of a narrow footpath blocking my way.

She was wearing earphones so couldn’t hear my breathing or passive aggressive stomping. In the end I just ran on the inside of the pavement and nearly ended up in a hedge just to avoid a catastrophic collision.

Oh but the tunes sound so good in ma head, man!!

I wanted to fucking scream “WAKE UP!!” at her but she was clearly dead to the world.

So instead I just ran 0.1 miles pretty quickly and let out a massive “FUCCKKKKKKKKK!!!” when there was no-one else around.

It was the best moment of the day. Cathartic.

With less than a month to go until the Paris Marathon, today I was confronted by the sheer fucking panic that sets in when a 26.2 mile race is just around the corner and you’re unsure if  you’re ready or not.

26.2 fucking miles. What was I thinking?

When you’re new to marathon training it’s normal to be plagued with doubts. I still struggle with thoughts like these.

• How the fuck can I possibly keep going for 26.2 miles? I’ve only ran 16/18/20 miles in training!
• What if I hit the wall?
• What if I don’t manage another 18 mile run before the marathon?
• What if I get injured?

Before my first full marathon, I was in the dark with regards to how my body would cope with the distance.

I ran my first half in training for the 26.2 miles and I just remember being paralysed by the realisation that I had to do 2 laps of the half marathon course to complete the distance.

If I was exhausted after only 13.1 miles, how could I possibly run that distance when I had nothing left to give after the half?

Dropping the pace and focusing on distance.

For my first two marathons I quickly realised that I had not been running far enough.

I made the decision to drastically drop my pace on all of my jogs and run at a 11 minute/mile instead of my preferred 10 minute/mile pace.

It wasn’t ideal but I had to find a way to run further and increase my confidence.

My goal was to finish after all. Pace didn’t matter.

New approach to training this time around

For the Paris Marathon I’ve put distance training before everything else. From the start of January I set out to run as far as I could on every single run.

I made next to no progress with pace during the first month, but my stamina improved drastically over that time.

By focusing on the distance and getting comfortable with it, I’ve built a stable base for myself that has allowed me to experiment with speed work.

I’m going into this marathon knowing that I’m not slowing down.

Far from it, I’m actually speeding up! I’m on the attack as opposed to the back foot for once!

And it’s all thanks to those early 8 mile short runs. Without them I’d still be struggling to break an average 10 minute mile over longer distances.

This morning at 5:30am I ran 11.2 miles as a short run.

And the best thing is that I ran these 11 miles, 10 minutes faster than the my last 11 mile run in January 2013.

For a while in the winter I thought I was never gonna improve. I thought I was doomed to plodding.

It just goes to show what you can do if you’re determined and want to improve.

Never give up hope.

I’m still having difficulties motivating myself to run in the morning and I’ve finally found out why.

I keep setting myself longer and longer distances and I can’t keep going further each time.

It’s getting brighter, later in the morning and it just isn’t feasible to be running 15 miles at that time.

I live in a small town and I can only run long if I go into the countryside where there isn’t much lighting at all.

I can’t be running around here with a miners cap on. The locals are quite superstitious and might mistake me for a dayglo Djinn and put their foot down hard on the pedal when they see me waving to them from the roadside.

I am not going down to the power plant by the seafront before daybreak either.

I don’t wanna be fucked and mauled by a sett of glowin’, howlin’ Badgers.

Bored of the really long weekday runs

The great thing about the 20 mile run on Sunday is that it has freed me up a little to concentrate on going faster over shorter distances.

I think from now on I’m gonna go back to running 8 to 10 miles in the morning.

That is more than adequate.

I’ve just got into this insane fucking mindset where I don’t think a run counts if it isn’t over half marathon distance.

By that logic, I would be running 30 miles before work in 2016 and I’d still be disappointed that I didn’t run the 29th mile in a sub 9 minute mile.

I’ve really lost the plot and my mind with it.

Not giving up running even though I’ve felt like it.

I haven’t really felt like myself in quite some time.

I think I’m exhausted from all of the training and for a while I’ve been wanting to just rest. The thought of those long morning runs has been draining me.

So instead of running 15 miles at 5am, I’m gonna get up at 6am and do 8 miles and work on my speed. I need to adapt to the weather and work on my pace now that it’s cooler.

It will be a welcome change from running those crazy distances.

An 8 mile morning run won’t leave me walking into the office like I’ve shit myself.

It’s time to become realistic and start enjoy running again.

I am a damn fool.

 

The sad fact is that if you’re new to running your training runs alone won’t prepare you for all of the silly distractions on race day.

And they can really throw you.

Here are some of the annoyances you’ll encounter in a race that you’ll never encounter in a training run.

1. The sheer crowds of people is difficult to cope with – If you run on your lonesome or in a small group then you’re in for a shock on race-day. The events are ran by thousands of clumsy fuckers all scrambling for Gold. The first few miles are always tightly packed and you’ll find yourself fighting for breathing space. Sometimes you have to vault up and down the pavement to find your line. Everyone seems to be running at different paces. You always have the Mo Farah’s who start at the back and surge through the crowd at terrific leg speeds, only for you to see them walking furiously at mile 6 with their beats blasting in their ears. It’s a head-fuck.
2. The race photographers are distracting – “Come on smile!” are arguably the last three words you wanna hear when you’re nipples are bleeding, you can’t catch your breath and you just want the misery to end as quickly as possible. Sometimes I’ll be ready for the photographer and try my best to pose but then I’ll just look really fucking odd like I’m having a stroke. I already know how bad I’m gonna look on camera so I’ve given up trying to pose and just brace myself for the worst.
   

   50 Shades of Gormless.

3. The spectators are demanding – Most people don’t give a shit when you’re running around your home town as long as you aren’t in their face about it. When you’re running a race, it’s completely different. You cannot let the people cheering for you down otherwise you’ve failed yourself and you’ve failed them. If you stop to walk you’ll hear about it from them. Also, If you’re odd like me you’ll have to become skilled at avoiding the people on the roadside who want high 5’s. I try to shuffle away from them to hide the fact I’m an awkward bastard who is taking everything too seriously.
4. The sheer volume of fun-runners who will overtake you in fancy dress is humiliating – Every Chicken that is killing your 10-minute-mile is another reason to hang up your shoes altogether.
5. The cut off bus is after your ass – The cut-off bus drives behind the last group of people in the race and picks them up before they re-open the roads to the public. This is more scary than it sounds. If the bus gets you then you don’t get your medal. You’re officially a DNFer. In Vegas I was terrified that they’d get me and that I would have travelled 5,500 miles to miss out on a medal. That thought ruined my enjoyment of the rest of the race.
6. The sense of euphoria at crossing the line will blow your tiny mind – Sure you might be glad to finish a training run, but you haven’t experienced anything until you cross the line for the first time. Then you get to collect your medal. And drink beer and frolic through the night.
7. The shit that you have to tag to your body to be considered a contender will try to escape from your persons – In some races this is both a chip you tie around your laces and a race number. If any of that shit comes off your body, then you’re in trouble. With no race number you’ll be disqualified and with no chip you won’t record a time even if you do finish. I’m still bitter about the Great North Run 2012 when my chip came off my shoe on the starting line. It made for the longest 13.1 mile run in history.
8. The queues for toilets are unreal – When you see the length of the queues for the toilets at larger events you start to consider that everyone may have suddenly been struck down with the Ebola virus. Once you get into a stall you’d think that all of the runners have been ingesting nothing but rancid burger meat, dog food and Budweiser. I can never go to the toilet in there as I’m always trying to hold in the vomit.

   Ironic how marathoners can calculate their mile splits perfectly but can’t guage the trajectory of their turd into bowl with any such accuracy.

9. The waiting about at the start is frustrating as hell – You’ll spend 15 minutes minutes before the race listening to some idiot in a yellow Sash explaining how you aren’t allowed to fight your fellow racers and that shitting on the road is prohibited. It’s always a tense stand-off and those around you always look more primed for the occasion than you do. I always want to shout something like this at the loudmouth with the speaker “Thanks for the pep-talk Nigel, can’t we just cut to the fucking national anthem and get going? I’ve  cut a hole out of the back of my shorts to minimise my time spent squatting at the road side. The harsh Westerly wind is starting to burn a hole through my hole.”
10. The water stations are death traps – You haven’t experienced hell until you’ve ran through a water station. Panic ensues. Runners scatter towards both sides. Some stop in shock as if the water station is a mirage. “Can it really be what I think it is? OMG! H20! You going in ma belly!” Some try to throw water around themselves and end up hitting other runners. Eager volunteers are thrusting bottled water in your face. You try to say “thanks man” but it all comes out as a growl as you’re too busy trying to hammer down and swallow branded bee jizz.
11. The depression after the race is stifling – I never feel depressed after training runs. Races are totally different. The surge of adrenaline throughout the course of the race leaves you feeling deflated for days on end afterward. I’ll then find myself entering race after race to try to fill the void, only for the whole horrible cycle to start afresh.
12. The supplements you receive on course that you haven’t trained with can rip your insides open – If you’ve ran out of energy gels and the choice is between hitting the Wall or taking a new gel that may or may not make you shit yourself, you’ll find yourself gambling on Brown every time. In Vegas I think I tasted about 9 different varieties of Gu and each made me gag in a new and exciting way. It wasn’t fun or pleasant but it was the only way I could survive.