Lucky No. 7

Challenge completed!

Posted on October 9, 2009 by markedwards04

Well, it’s done! Thank goodness.

No more having to get up on a wet Sunday morning with sleep in my eyes and jogging round the centre of London with not a lot in my head. No more waking up on the morning of a marathon (I daren’t call what I did a race) with a funny feeling in the tummy and a need to pee every five seconds. No more absolutely stuffing my face for the week after a long-run, in fact I’ll actually quite miss that one.

Quite a lot to update you from the past four weeks, including two marathons, the beacons of hope awards and a celebratory ball! Only one place to start, and that’s where we left off.

Running Man crumble - superb!

So it was that I headed to the midlands for an additional marathon trot round the fine city of Nottingham, having previously failed to complete the delights of the Picnic marathon back in June. And where everything went so wrong back in Surrey, it all went so well on the Robin Hood marathon. Having spent the day before stretching the legs with a lengthy wander around all of my wife and sister-in-law’s old haunts from their university days we were treated to a marvellous meal from Katie’s old friend Richa and her boyfriend Danny (many, many thanks again guys). This was topped off with a superb ‘running man’ crumble (see picture), and I can only presume that my performance the next day was purely down to this cumbly treat!

So with the fuel in my belly and a good night’s kip under taken I woke up ready for the joys of running round with lots of Robin

Running in the Hood

Hoods. The run itself went really well, as I managed to keep going for the whole 26.2 miles and after being packed into the streets with thousands of other half-marathoners through the city centre it was nice to finally find a bit of space after the half-way point. And with both the city’s football grounds, and some eager-beaver enthusiastic cheers from Team Edwards, driving all over the place I managed to maintain my interest through the remaining 13 miles and clip round in a relatively speedy 3 hours and 57 minutes!

Following a quick bath in order to not stink out the other East Midlands passengers it was straight back on the train and back

into training as the final marathon was only two weeks away. Whilst Nottingham had gone exceptionally well in comparison to some of the other marathons ventured so far, the prospect of immediately repeating such a task did not appeal – and then of course

Team Edwards, whoop, whoop!

Eddie Izzard came along. After whimpering over the course of seven months about the prospect of running one marathon a month along comes a chubby comedian and steals, well I would say thunder, but it seems more like a whole flipping thunder, lightning and hail storm. perhaps with a bit of tornado thrown in for good measure. In case you haven’t heard about this, incredibly the man ran something like 47 marathons in 53 days. RESPECT Mr Izzard.

Having said that I’m now going to go back to whinging about the prospect of running my last marathon in the New Marathon.

But inbetween these two, was the Beacon of Hope Awards. Think I mentioned these before, but some how I got nominated for a special commendation award. Unfortunately I didn’t win, but the winner was certainly a worthy one in the shape of young Amy Webster who came across as a lovely young lady and I wish her

At the Beacon of Hope awards

and her family all the best for the future. You can find out more about Amy’s story and all the other winners and nominees on the Lymphoma site – link should be somewhere on here. However what I did get was a lovely view from the top of City hall and some great photos of me and my family in front of Tower Bridge! And thanks to my brother we even got a secret tour of the press office there to see where he worked! Unfortunately didn’t bump into BoJo himself, but hey ho.

So we come back to heading down to the South coast for some more marathon marvellousness and this time I had a running partner! I was more than a little nervous about the prospect of running with my good friend Mr P. Broughton. He’s the kind of person who’s tall (with extremely long legs and therefore a humungous stride) and is annoyingly naturally fit too. Having already been outdone by Izzard, there was no way I fancied being humiliated in my final marathon by a first-timer! But things looked decidely bleak on our final training run the week before when we attempted a 19 miler round London and Paul was looking comfortable towards the end, whilst I ended up run/walking. My bravado blamed it on having run a marathon just the week before, Paul naturally brought up the aforementioned funny man!

To make things worse I picked up a heavy cold the Friday before the run, and so headed to the delights of the New Forest bound up in tissues and lemsip. The big day came and I still felt dreadful. In an attempt to replicate Patrick Viera’s manliness I rubbed what felt like an entire tub of vaporub on my running top to try and keep my sinuses clear. Unfortunately this ended up working a little too efficiently with my nose streaming snot and other such delights the entire way round.

Jelly baby me up...

Whilst it was a brisk and breezy morning, you could still it was going to turn into a scorcher as the sun started to rise. Once, what seemed like thousands of half-marathon runners had disappeared down their way Paul and I made our way to the starting line. Although there were considerably fewer of us, the atmosphere was really nice and we bundled our way out of New Milton into the joys of the forest. Fortunately this meant we started off with the benefit of running under tree coverage. After about 8 miles I was already starting to suffer, with my lungs feeling like lead and my legs were not a lot lighter. Paul was still looking fresh as a daisy so I picked myself up picked up a lucozade from my family and went on our way.

On the final straight.

Despite the beautiful countryside the pain just kept on getting worse and then a huge great big hill came along. After a brief respite of walking we saw a vision like an oasis of a lady waving a bag of jelly babies under our nose at the top of the hill. I struggled on with a bit of hacking up of flem and by now the trees had been replaced by large open plains, just in time for the mid-day sun. Paul’s chirpiness just about kept me going, but the prospect of another hill left me shattered. Willing him to walk on to ensure that he got a good time he agreed to stay with me and do it together, for which I will always be grateful as I’m sure I would have ended up walking the rest or having a good sit down. But we kept on plugging away and managed to run half a mile, followed by a little walk and eventually got back round to New Milton and the finishing line. We crawled in at a fairly slow 4 hours 20 minutes, but considering my cold, and Paul’s gammy knee, we were both happy with that.

I’m not sure what I thought at the end, I always assumed there would be a great sense of relief, but it just felt quite normal and it

Lucky number 7!

was more a case of relief that we were finally out of the sun, could drink as much water as we wanted and have a good sit down. I almost felt a little but empty as if the challenge wasn’t quite finished, or I wasn’t sure what I’d done. Still we managed to grab a quick shower and then wolf down the biggest slab of meat you’ve ever seen in a burger bun which immediately rejuvenated me a little I must say.

Since then it’s largely been celebrations and slobbing out. My wife made a gorgeous celebratory meal, and we also attended the annual Lymphoma Association ball, which was a fantastic evening. Up to now I haven’t been tempted to put on the old running shoes again (probably more to do with the continuation of the cold and the onset of autumnal weather in London), but I’m sure that I’ll gradually ease back into the jogging if only to justify the cake and beers.

I just finally want to say a massive thank you, particularly to my wife, Katie, who has endured numerous hours of me running around London while we could have been doing more interesting things, travelled with me to most of the marathons and cheered me on spectacularly, and of course has to look after my now mank-ridden feet. So thank you button, I love you.

Also to my mum, dad and brother, who have also travelled around watching me run round various parts of the UK in this quest as well as supported me through it in encouragement (particularly to the most enthusiastic (and loud) cheerings of my mum!), come to other events, and given me general encouragement throughout.

Far too many friends have helped out in various ways, but special mention must go to the in-laws (that includes you Paul and Kayles!) who similarly cheered me along, come along on training runs in the small hope of making them more interesting and again helped out where they could.

Of course the Lymphoma Association have been their usual fantastic selves, thank you very much for everyone there and all the support and help you’ve given me over the past year and of course all the year’s before!

And of course to everyone that’s very kindly sp0nsored me and got me so close to my target. I think the last I saw it was at almost4,000 pounds, but I still have (hopefully) £1.5k to come from the Rotary club, so we almost got there! Thank you one and all, you’re all legends, and I know the money will be hugely appreciated and well-used by the Lymphoma Association.

I think that’s it! Not sure what to do now. Not usre if this is the end, the end. I’m sure I’ll carry on blogging in some way or another so keep your email linked in and it should pop up whenever I do. I certainly think there must be another challenge around the corner…

Filed under: New Forest Marathon, Robin Hood Marathon, Uncategorized | Tagged: Beacons of Hope, Lymphoma Association, New Forest Marathon, Robin Hood Marathon | Leave a Comment »

Running in the gun capital of the UK

Posted on September 9, 2009 by markedwards04

So it’s been an eventful summer, England won the ashes, as Blur reformed Oasis decided to split up, and of course the mighty Luton Town started their travels in the unchartered waters of the Blue Square Premiership – the only true and good premiership going.

With all that it’s no wonder I forgot about running, and abandoned my blog for a while – especially after the thought of 5 marathons down.

Still there are two to go now and I mustn’t grow complacent. Nottingham’s up next and it’s this weekend – and once again I’m missing another Luton game for my other passion – buggar. Oh well, it’s the alma mater (no idea of those are the right words, but it sounds good) city of my wife and her sister so no doubt we’ll have a good time inbetween.

The start of the Robin Hood marathon - guns at the ready

I’ve actually run the Nottingham half-marathon before so I kind of know what to expect for half the course which is good, although the last time I ran it was absolutely freezing cold, so fingers crossed for better weather this time. Nottingham is a lovely city to run through – what with two famous old football clubs to pass and then some lovely park land to trek through I’m thoroughly looking forward to it already.

I must admit though that over the summer it’s been harder to get motivated for training – hopefully I’ve packed enough miles in to make sure that I’m fit enough – but even if not and I have to walk a little part of the way I’m treating this one as more of a training run in the build up to New Forest which is obviously the final bad boy of this mission and the one that I’ll definitely want to get around. It’s particularly imortant that I manage to stay injury free for these last couple of weeks – especially after managing to steer clear of injuries over the seven months. This is my most paranoid fear at the minute and I’m currently trying to nurse a sore throat into getting better to make sure it doesn’t knock me out of either of these next two races. It seems weird that just one little trip, spill or illness could knock all my plans out of kilter at this final hurdle! Indeed my brother and my friend are testament to this who were both going to run the New Forest marathon, but who have already picked up nobbling knee injuries, which has forced my brother out of running it!

These people make me sick

The best thing about running in the summer is the potential for sun tanning. I’ve done a number of training runs now in the baking heat around London. I’ve often come back from a three hour run wearing my running singlet and just a few hours later this leaves me with the loveliest looking pair of bright red shoulders with just a strip of white running through the middle. My wife agrees that it’s a very hot look! Of course I could go round like the other fine fettled young men through Hyde park who abandon all such tops (looking like something straight off the cover of Runner’s World or Men’s Health and fitness – sickening), but unfortunately despite all this running I’ve impressively managed to maintain a fair amount of my beer paunch too – a feat I’m tremendously proud of, so I really don’t want to put tourists off their food on their relaxing holiday!

Other than that recently it’s been a fairly quiet summer – no long holidays or anything like that for me unfortunately. However news has recently picked up with two quite exciting developments from my challenge! Firstly the extremely generous Rotaty Club of Hitchin have agreed to sponsor me by giving me the proceeds of their Christmas Quiz sale – apparently this raises quite a sum most years so fingers crossed!

The other bit of good news is that I’ve been nominated for a Beacons of Hope award (I posted about last year’s awards a long, long time ago). So that’s fab news and I get to go to City Hall for a posh do – so I can even get to see my brother hard at work there no doubt!

Anyway update on Nottingham to come next week and then I’ll let you know how I get on with the awards shin-dig.

Mark

Filed under: Robin Hood Marathon | Tagged: Beacons of Hope, Robin Hood Marathon, Training | Leave a Comment »

Best of British – Oasis, 10k’s, Bread Pudding, Rain and BBQs

Posted on July 21, 2009 by markedwards04

A month on from the disaster of the very un-picnicky Picnic marathon, things have picked up a little.

Last Sunday I completed the Fairlands Valley Challenge, 26.2 miles of Hertfordshire countryside, and that makes it the fifth marathon, and I’m still alive! Just two to go now, and in the interim I’ve got a nice couple of months break to recuperate my tired old legs and aching back. It should also give me time to lose my particularly sexy tan line around my running vest, leaving broad white patches running over my shoulders joining in a nice semi-circle around my chest and back. Hot!

Laura pounding the pavements and on got a pb

However before we get to the beautiful and exceedingly wet Fairlands, an additional running challenge got thrown into the pot for the British 10k. My wife and a few members of her family and friends (Katie, Laura, Thom, Kayles and myself were the famous five, with added support from ‘greatest photographer in the world’, who is already mentioned too many times in this blog) had very kindly agreed to run this lovely little London run in aid to my cause, and try and coax some extra cash from people towards the Lymphoma Association. A ruse that seemed to work with extremely good success judging from the donations that have since come in, so thank you very much to both runners and donors.

Normally the thought of a 10k wouldn’t particularly cause me much concern, but what I had unfortunately been

Me and the missus by Westminster - wave your hands like you just don't care

remiss in checking before signing up for it was that I was due to attend an Oasis gig the night before with my brother and a whole load of friends, which could usually be relied upon for producing a four-five day hangover in the very least. However I managed to restrain myself from the sauce for this one particular evening to save everyone the sight of my guts from either end the next day, unfortunately it meant the whole Oasis experience wasn’t quite the same, but still! So we got up ridiculously early for a Sunday morning and our merry band of runners made our way to Picadilly for the starting line, at which point I got a lovely little surprise in that Katie and the other runners were all sporting rather fetching t-shirts with my name and challenge flashed on their backs! I knew I had truly made fame and riches upon seeing my name blazened across the backs of several people. After this rather humbling and proud encounter we strode purposefully to the starting area, only to find ourselves in a rather lengthy queue of runners.

Thom & Kayles crossing Westminster bridge

Indeed there were about 27,000 fellow joggers out for this particular morning and so it was no wonder that there was a bit of a back-log trying to squeeze over the tiny bridge that the organisers had arranged in order to get people running straight away. As many runners will know this sort of delay to a start can be particularly problematic on the bladder muscles and so there were numerous people jumping over hedges for a quick penny in the Queen’s royal back garden of Green Park. Never being one to understand the great British patience with queuing we did our best to forge ahead through the crowds and get away a bit quicker. This also gave us the benefit of advertising the t-shirts to a wider range of folks, and also spotting a large number of fellow Lymphoma runners – you cannot miss those vests at all!

40 minutes after the first runner had set off we finally managed to get underway and headed off at a clip of a rate back

My name is...

towards St James’ Palace and past the hordes still queuing who we had so nimbly squeezed past just a minute ago. Thomas and I had already promised to bury our long-standing racing competition and run with our respective partners, whilst Laura hopped off in search of a personal best. Even though we were finally running, it still felt a little like we were queuing as Katie and I ducked and dived through the sheer mass of people. Indeed at several points as I looked to pace Katie and keep her on track for a personal best I some how managed to lose her in the sheer weight of people that were around. We got to half way round and found to our disappointment that the drinks station had run out of water and were only offering Gatorade, so I gratefully took a swig in order to keep hydrated as I pushed Katie to up the tempo and push on. Thankfully as we headed back towards Westminster we spotted some fellow Lymphoma runners who made us temporarily forget the pain and then got some top quality tunes in the like of the Darkness and Coldplay to help us dance over the bridge and down towards Victoria before heading for the finish line. Katie and I crossed the finishing line together in a new PB time for her of 56 mins, Laura swept home with a convincing and similarly a new PB of 51 (although still annoyed that she didn’t beat the 50) and Kayles similarly set a new personal best of 1hr and 5mins to complete her first competitive 10k. So it just leaves me to thank all four of my fellow runners on that day for a fantastic effort (I only wish the waiters at Pizza Express had been as speedy as us!) and of course also for making the effort to go and get me some extra cash from your friends, colleagues and family. It is as always hugely appreciated.

Weary runners head back down to the tube for the promise of beers and pizza

So that was the week before Fairlands Valley, glorious sunshine bared down upon us all and the 10k was a fun-fuelled short little run which resulted in pizza and beer. I was hoping for more of the same! I became more nervous though as the week passed that I didn’t know the route, no map or instructions had been posted on the site and there was a lack of general banter and information on the website about it all. What if this was another Picnic? Patiently waiting for me to be sucked in only to prove another major stumbling block in my marathon challenge as the first hill hovered into the horizon. Ultimately though I had no choice, I knew there were now precious few options open to me now, and very few marathons that I’d be able to book and run in my schedule in order to keep within the 7 month period. Thankfully a further incentive fell through my door that week which was a letter from the Lymphoma Association informing me that I had been nominated for one of the Beacon of Hope Awards, an award ceremony organised by the Association for individuals who have done particular good service in the past year. At first I was a bit shocked by this letter and didn’t really know how to react, I felt that after seeing some of the stories first hand last year I didn’t deserve to be put in the same category as the people I had bravely seen on stage the previous year. In fact I went into a bit of a rant at my wife, presuming that she was the culprit for the nomination, she claimed innocence and lo and behold later in the week I found I’d actually been nominated a second time for a different category (this time by my wife). By then I’d had time to reflect on it all, and I feel such tremendous pride and honour to even be considered by someone to be in such a thing, and while the competition to be shortlisted is bound to be fairly keen I will certainly take great pride in just being thought of as nominated, so thank you very much whoever the other mystery nominator is!

And so it was with this extra bit of grit in my belly that I got up and ready for another marathon in Stevenage. My dad dropped me

Leaving home for the 'five still alive' marathon

Bright and breezy for the Fairlands Valley Challenge

off by the scout hut whereupon I was issued my instructions and a map of the circuit. Instantly my face dropped as I saw four sheets of what looked like fairly detailed instructions of where to go and what to look out for, almost entirely filled with nifty anacronyms like SLOT (straight line of trail). As I was ridiculously early I decided to take a bit of a walk out from the start and see how easy it would be to decipher the instructions – not that easy I discovered. A new tactic was needed of locating a local (who was also running the marathon, as there were also 18 and 12 mile runs as well) and trying to keep up with them for 26 miles. After time for several quick pees before the start and as about 30 of us huddled together on a suspiciously overcast day in a strange looking car park in Stevenage I reflected that the circumstances could not have been more different to the previous week, and I was wondering what I’d let myself in for. However courage was given to me by the starter in his words that a runner in previous years had managed to get lost after only 200 metres, my extensive research before the run guaranteed that I wouldn’t be making any records on that front!

Where's that famous Fairlands bread pudding?

And so we were off, I was intrigued to see how the group would break up as we were obviously clustered between different abilities but also looking to do different lengths and so it worked out that the group quite quickly broke out into clusters of runners and not much inbetween. As I hadn’t managed to locate my local yet I was forced to consult the directions and pick up the useful skill of being able to run and read at the same time. My memories of Duke of Edinburgh at school came flooding back and my orienteering skills didn’t let me down and I made it to the first check point at 4 mies for a nice little breather and a drink of squash. One of the other things on offer was Bread Pudding - I think to put the Fairlands Valley Challenge on the map, their quirky fact about themselves is offering bread pudding to runners, much like the Picnic’s quirky fact is being ridiculously difficult – I wasn’t sure what bread pudding was to be honest, but it looked a bit like a pork pie, and as I wasn’t in the mood for savoury snacks I gave it a miss and dug into the jelly beans instead. And on we went. Unfortunately not long after this my lack of country lingo knowledge meant my path was soon unstuck. I’d been running under some canopied trees only to emerge onto a luscious

What a field day

English green with a game of cricket in front of me, but conspicuously no runners, where had they gone? I checked the instructions and the told me to go right onto a Bye-road. Not having the foggiest what a bye-road was I presumed it meant like a regular road so jogged with just a little baring to the right to the road ahead and had the nasty feeling I’d gone wrong. When I turned around I found that I’d become like the messiah in the life of Brian and had a rag-tag bunch of followers looking on my to deliver them to the right route. We went back consulted the directions again, talked to a guy on a tractor, had a team meeting before plumping for a route, and thankfully choosing the right one. Luckily that was to be the only major navigational challenge which added to our time, despite a couple of other near-slips nothing got quite as bad as that period of very unsure where we were going.

Surely it's cheating to be allowed four legs in this race, luckily I beat the dog in the end... just.

I got to the 8 mile check points to be greeted by my wife and parents and had a good old chin wag with them before finding that our band of brothers that had nearly got so very lost had formed a tight knit group that were determined to make it to the end together. Up to 20 miles the run seemed to go like a breeze, the direction reading proved a distraction to the constant wear and tear and mind-numbingness of running, the gang of three proved to be a nice pace to keep you motivated and there was some lovely views afforded over the Hertfordshire countryside – I was really getting into this multi-terrain trail running. Even the weather seemed to be perfect for us, overcast but with the occasional burst of sunshine and a nice temperature, that is of course

Running (definitely not singing) in the rain

until I pointed that fact out. I don’t know what prompted me to do such a stupid thing – it was just after the 20 mile marker – we were almost home! I harmlessly said “even the weather’s been perfect”, cue angry God of running to deliver one of the strongest and wettest showers I’ve ever been in, it was literally like running in a power-shower cubicle. What made it worse was that at this particular part of the run we had to run on a path by a road into the oncoming traffic and so of course got a double splashing from some particularly over-zealous drivers no doubt thinking it’s fun to pick on weirdos running in bright yellow vests.

Still we made it through and after a second tumultuous shower right at the finish line I made it back to the warmth of the scout hut and picked up my medal in an official time of 4 hours and 20 minutes, with my stop-watch saying 4 hours 19 minutes, I’ll take the minute off due to the lack of clarity in the directions as to what a bye-road is. I finished 54th from a field of 260-something, not too shabby.

The angry god of running weather gives it big style

"Why did I make that comment about the weather?"

Thankfully I was to be greeted by warm hugs from my family along with Thom and Kayles who had come along for extra support and sported the sexy line in t-shirts of the previous week (if anyone wants to buy one, I’m thinking of setting up an online store, maybe mugs, posters, whatever you want – just email me your requests!). But the best part was digging into a burger from the barbie that the organisers had put on.

So that’s it, five down two to go. Nottingham and New Forest await. In the meantime I have a nice break ahead involving some

Having a dirty burger and a medal never felt so good

training, and indeed I have a fair few C-word blogs to get up here too, so I promise to start working on those soon. There will also be a sweepstake on offer for the final marathon with a cash prize – more details on that to follow. For now though, as always thanks to everyone that’s continuing to donate, it means a hellofalot. For those of you still wavering on the brink of donating – go on, do it, it’ll make you feel better! And of course finally a massive thank you to the British 10k four (+broken toe boy) and all the supporters and fellow runners at the Fairlands Valley Challenge.

See you soon, xxx

Filed under: 10k, Fairlands Valley Challenge | Tagged: 10k, Beacons of Hope, Donation, Fairlands Valley Challenge, Lymphoma Association, Wembley | Leave a Comment »

Edinburgh is no Picnic

Posted on July 6, 2009 by markedwards04

Well it’s been a long, long time since my last post (apologies once again for the lengthy delays in getting them up, but life’s just too damn hectic for this blogging malarky, god knows how people do it day in-day out).

Since that lost post my marathon expolits have taken me north of the border to the beautiful city of Edinburgh. I travelled up with my mum and dad in tow, my wife had chosen this opportune moment to go on a girly holiday, so it was just me and the folks heading to the hilly city.

Pre-Picnic training by climbing the massive Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh

So after a seven hour train journey largely spent guiding Hercules (a little known Spanish football team) to promotion glory in Football Manager (obligatory for every long train journey) we arrived in sunny and extremely hot Edinburgh! We got to grips with the city and did a bit of sight-seeing in the two days before I was due to run the marathon, including an intrepid climb up Arthur’s Seat in boiling hot sunshine without any sun screen! If not exactly ideal preparation, it at least acclimatised me to the hot conditions.

And so the day of the race fell. I got up bright and breezy and walked down to the start wearing my newly fashioned cap and some sort of weird stretchy thing that covers the head and neck, along with two tops in completely contrasting colours simply to keep the sun off my shoulders, I probably resembled something out of Bruno the film excpet without the cool accent.

Once again the race started well and I felt fairly strong for the first half as we wound down the streets out of Edinburgh out to the coast and managed to catch a faint whiff of sea breeze. As this was one long route outside of the city and popping through various suburbs and villages on the outskirts of Edinburgh the run felt very different to London where the crowds are constantly barracking you on, but where we did come across them they were particularly enthusiastic and vocal which was good.

However the heat kept on grinding me down and my pace began to slow as we moved further out into the countryside and started to route around a very posh country home’s gardens.

Start of the Edinburgh marathon in wtih the masses

I found myself constantly in front or behind a pair of Sutton Club runners who were looking to break the four hour barrier which was also my intention. The guy was constantly geeing up the lady he was with and I found his little motivational tit-bits highly useful myself as my stamina started to fade away. In fact I’d been having phone conversations with my mum and dad to find out where each other were. As the race went on the conversations would get shorter and shorter and one end started to resemble a heavy breather, I should emphasise that that was my end of the line, rather than my Mum’s!

I kept on setting myself mini-goals to try and keep the legs running, but eventually I hit the wall again and had to have a little break. The better news this time was that the rest seemed to have an effect and immediately afterwards I managed to pick myself up again and go a bit faster. By the time we were heading back to Musselbrough, the heat was unbearable and the sweat was soaking my two-top combo. But I was lucky in that I was still in front of the majority of runners who I later found out suffered from empty water stations during the latter half of the marathon as a huge number of donated water bottles and energy gels had been stolen the night before.

I finally came into Musselbrough and after a quick wave to the folks I found enough reserved energy to sprint along the rather springy platform that the organisers had put down on the race course towards the finish. It was another energy lifting experience seeing hundreds of people jammed into the grandstand and cheering people on and gave me the impetus to just squeak in past the four hour mark with a time of 3 hours, 59 minutes and 27 seconds! So it was another marathon down and time for a cheeky pint of tenants to rehydrate myself before jamming ourselves back onto the train to Edinburgh.

There was only a three-week break between Edinburgh and the next marathon challenge which was going to be my toughest to date, the Picnic Marathon held at Box Hill, Surrey. This marathon has been voted the toughest in Britain in previous years and is only held every odd year – presumably to mark the type of runner required. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but as I read the pre-race bumpf I discovered it was the equivalent to running up and down a Scottish Munro, not knowing how high a Munro was I wasn’t particularly concerned by this. Indeed as I said, I was more concerned by the lack of training that I’d managed to squeeze in between the two marathons.

A bit of pre-picnic stretching

The weather was also a concern as the BBC switched between predictions of a scorching 28 through to extreme showers and everything in between. So the day itself arrived and thankfully it was just a warm early twenties. As I struggled through the crowds at Waterloo heading to Ascot I tried to start to psyche myself for the challenge ahead as a bit of dread and anticipation started to drive the butterflies in my stomach around and around.

I arrived in Dorking to be met by my parents and we trekked up the road to join the other 99 nutters willing to pay for participating in what could be up to 7 hours of masochism. Before the start the race organiser further upped the ante by stating that the marathon was actually tougher than it had been previously advertised, joy! Before the official start it was customary to sing a hearty version of God save the Queen, and as I am not exactly an enthusiastic monarchist I had to mumble a few of the bits where I was less sure of the words, before starting off on a slow jog up what felt like a very long hill. I was expecting tough, but this was a ridiculous start.

God save our.....

We winded down into some steps, which felt like they were steps designed for giants, as you had to take two steps just to get down one. However even this was a pleasurable relief after the long climb up the first hill. Unfortunately what goes down has to come back up and so there was then the challenge of climbing back up the steps. I took heed of the advice and walked up the steps as I imagined if this was only just the start there might be a fair few more hills yet to come.

Unfortunately this prognosis was correct and the route looped up and down for the next six miles before heading back the way it came. At one point I unfortunately got lost along with another group and ended up adding about 1/2 a mile to my run, surely this run is tough enough without adding additional challenges. I headed back to the starting point just behind a very enthusiastic older runner who was putting most people to shame with his encouragement and chirpiness but he thought we were on for a sub-5 hour finish at the pace we were going, indeed I reached the start within 2 hours 20 minutes and still felt strong at that point. I even managed to run up little parts of that massive hill again. Unfortunately following that it all started to go wrong. As I was going back down the stairs I suddenly went dizzy and thought I was going to pass out. I was lucky in that I had just found my friend Paul along with my Mrs and her sister. After a brief stop trying to get my head back together I tried to carry on walking but as soon as I did my head would start to spin and I couldn’t get my legs to cooperate. I managed to make it back round the mini loop where my friends and family were waiting but broke down at a marshall’s point just before the returning climb up the steps. I can’t describe the emotions that I went through at that point. I was simply gutted and broke down in tears while stuffing my face with jelly babies on hand from the marshall’s stand, it must have been a beautiful sight!

Almost half-way and still smiling - not for long though

Time then seemed to just stand still, but I must have been there for about half an hour trying to get as much sugar and liquid into my system as I could. I gave a (slightly less than) spirited attempt to try and climb the stairs and Paul joined me on the climb up and then managed to run a further couple of miles to get to the 16/17 mile marker but the prospect of a further 10 miles to go simply left me devastated and I knew that it wasn’t going to be possible to finish the picnic. I ended walking back up a hill and then disconsolately back down to the start feeling like absolute sh*t. Everyone tried to console me by saying that it was stupidly tough, but hey there were a lot of people who were still going and I just couldn’t believe that I’d blown it. A post race couple of pints didn’t even lift the spirits as I stared at my consolidatory half-marathon medal, and so my thoughts turned to what I could do to make up the now missing seventh marathon.

After a good night’s sleep the steel in my stomach returned and I was resolute to make amends for the pitiful performance the day before, and spotting a nice week’s break in my calendar, I promptly signed myself up to the Nottingham marathon in September, and therefore can still achieve my original goal. However I’m also hopeful that one day I’ll be back for that blooming Picnic, although this time, perhaps with a bit more training on that kind of level!

Signs of the times - stating the bleedin' obvious

Since that disastrous Saturday I took a week off to indulge in excess of pretty much everything a runner shouldn’t excess in at Glastonbury (largely cider and viva espana red wine – not good for the innards), but this week training is back up and running. The next run is now only a couple of weeks away in Hertfordshire. I still haven’t actually seen the course for this one, but as it involves map reading there’s a good chance I’ll be running further than 26.2 miles!

Ok, best leave it there for now. I’ve got a few photos up here for now, just because I wanted to get this posted, but there are some better running ones to come.

Thanks again to everyone’s that’s kept in touch, and that’s continuing to sponsor me. Hope I haven’t let you down by not doing the Picnic, the challenge is still just about there, and let’s just call that one a training run shall we? Particular thanks to the British 10k 4! You know who you are! See you at the start line at Picadilly, you all have an advantage over me in that you won’t be tired and hung over from the joys of an Oasis gig, so no bragging when you beat me!

Filed under: Edinburgh Marathon | Tagged: Edinburgh Marathon, Half-marathon, Picnic Marathon, Training | Leave a Comment »

Hot in the city

Posted on May 14, 2009 by markedwards04

Having fun in the sun at the 12 mile mark

Well it’s been a while once again since the last post, but also since the heat of the London marathon. My beautiful tan-line is now finally starting to diminish and it’s back into getting the training miles done in preparation for Edinburgh.

But before we head north of the border, let’s return to London, and update you on what happened there. The day itself kicked off unhealthily early in order to head south of the river towards the Greenwich start. It had been a tantalising week of weather forecast watching, as the BBC went from ridiculously hot, to heavy rain showers and finally settling for a calm and cloudy 16 degrees, it promised to be perfect running conditions.

And so I woke, looking forward to getting the miles under my belt in cool, calm conditions, but instead got a bold blue sky and a sun picking up heat pretty early. So I made my way down to lovely Greenwich, via a nightmarishly busy London Bridge. Fortunately this was the only poorly organised part of the day, where trains were coming in on all sorts of different platforms and it seemed to be pot luck as to where you ended up. Luckily for me on the third time around while meeting up with my brother on a different platform (who was also running the marathon as Banana Man) I managed to find a train going in the right direction!

One packed train journey later and I was at Blackheath, the sun getting steadily hotter and the butterflies in my belly rumbling even more. I don’t understand how running in a race can make you want to go to the toilet so much, but I must have been about 6 times in the run-up to the start, at one point even ducking out of the queue to begin to make a quick trip to the urinals. But none the less eventually I managed to get to and over the start line, only to once again have to stop pretty soon afterwards due to the sheer number of people trying to run, and the number of spectators gradually inching in from the pavement trying to catch a glimpse of their friend or relative starting out.

Caught out in the act of having a cheeky walk

Not long after this I breezed past Peter Andre who had stopped for an interview very early on – unfortunately somehow I missed Katie, how could I see Peter, and not Katie! But I was feeling in pretty good form, it was getting hotter but I was sticking to the shadows and taking on plenty of liquids and seemed to be going fairly fast (indeed looking at my split times up to the half way stage I was running comfortably under 9 minute miles which would have put me on for a new PB of about 3hrs 45 minutes). I’d also been given an additional boost after seening my friends and family at the 12 mile marker – with banner in hand (Paul, I still owe you that pint), and was feeling so strong that I just flew past them, barely even acknowledging their presence! So sorry about that folks.

Unfortunately it all started to turn a little sour after that, I got over Tower Bridge and headed out to my most dreaded part of the London Marathon which is the twisting roads out to the east in Canary Wharf and suddenly my guts started to feel as if they were gonna drop out of me (so to speak). Unfortunately there was nothing for it but to make a tactical pit-stop which ate into my time massively. Although thinking about this in retrospect having seen (or rather smelt) a lady at the 24 mile mark with brown stains running down her running bottoms and legs, I think I made the right decision in the end! Indeed after that point I swear I lost even more time just treble checking that I hadn’t fallen foul of a similar fate.

Once I’d made my pit-stop though things got even worse and I was really struggling in my running on the way out to Canary Wharf and then on my way back into the Centre after it. While running I’m vowing to myself that I will never put myself through this again, and then the grim realisation hits me that I have another marathon to do in a month, and another three after that even. I’m not even half way through my challenge at the moment.

Quick kiss for the camera woman at Cannon Bridge

However I was still running, and I was hoping that after the 21 marker I’d get a second wind and go through the wall with a fresh burst of energy, which is what happened when I ran London in 2005. The energy and the emotion of the crowd cheering on seemed to give me fresh vitality and I was able to breeze the final few miles that year. Unfortunately this time no such lift happened, but I was determined to keep running until I’d seen my wife and mum and dad for the second time. She’d texted that they were stood just past London Bridge so I persevered through the pain trying to keep my head up and scouting all around for any sign of them. London Bridge passed me by and no sign, I kept going under bridges in fact and still no sign, until in my distress I finally had to stop and walk for a little. Only then did I see them stood underneath Cannon Street Bridge, so it was immediately back into jogging mode and struggling on through. They managed to pick my spirits up a little though and I managed to jog onwards until going underneath the embankment’s under pass where I had to stop once again, and very ineffectively administer some cramp relief to a very distressed looking man (sorry if it was no use whatsoever!). But from there it was on to the home straight and while the crowds at the London Marathon are simply incredible all the way round, this is where they absolutely come into their own – cheering and shouting and encouraging at ridiculously loud decibels. It might not sound very pleasant, but it certainly gives you a much needed boost. In fact the crowd of the London marathon was the main thing that inspired me to particpate in my first ever marathon, and I think most people that walk away from that crowd will at least consider entering themselves for the ballot for next year’s marathon, at least for a few seconds!

So I keep going, pass my friend from work, LJ, cheering on like crazy and that gives me the impetus to finally crack on to that incredible final bend, with the very grateful sign of just 200 m to go, and I’m passing the Queen’s gaff realising that I’ve once again not beaten the four hour mark so a personal best is well out, but hey ho, I give it my all for a final spurt and unfortunately my legs just aren’t able to manage it and so I cross the line very gratefully and very wearily after 4 hours 5 minutes and 20 seconds, a whole 15 seconds behind the great Gordon Ramsey – a man that always beats me at London, and unfortunately once again I’ve been foiled.

Banana man and Eric after completing London

It’s a struggle just to keep walking out and at this point I would have been grateful for a little bit of the chaos of Paris just so I can stop and rest a little, but unfortunately the organisation is super slick and I’m straight through and in need of another pit-stop just to make sure! On my way out though I’m even more humbled as I hear of a lady crossing the finishing line about 5 minutes after me who had completed her fifth marathon in five days, running from Market Harborough to London and then completing the London Marathon. An incredible feat, and one that makes my challenge seem decidedly lite-weight (perhaps next year?), even though I’m struggling with this one. I can’t remember her name, but whoever she was she certainly deserved that lovely last Flora medal.

At least it’s finished I tell myself and I’m now going in search of that post-run tonic of a pint. As I walk to meet my friends and family who are waiting for Banana man to come past I’m strolling (hobbling) down the Strand only to find complete strangers congratulating me and saying well done! I found this particularly touching and it must certainly be the friendliest I’ve ever seen the City! If only we all wore random athletics medals or things from other achievements on the tube and bus, maybe this place could be the chirpiest and nicest place on earth! Anyway, it puts me in a great mood and eager to get that pint in, so it’s a relief to hear Banana man is rumping home, albeit it with a significant amount of chafing, and a slightly limp looking blow-up banana in an impressive time of just under 5 hours, particularly considering the heat and the ridiculous suit.

Post-race analysis on Marathon of the day

Since then I seem to have come through London relatively unscathed, no dodgy knees, no heat stroke, and a nice amount of time-off before heading up to Edinburgh for what their website promises me is the fastest marathon in the UK (so fingers crossed!). Since then my comment about inspiring the crowd into signing up to the following year’s marathon must be true, as two of my friends (LJ, Paul and myself and my brother) who were at the marathon have put our names in the ballot for 2010 and another friend who wasn’t even there has also signed themselves up. So fingers crossed that the right magazine plops through the door sometime in October for the first ever Virgin marathon. Indeed there must be a bit of running fever going on, as my brother (aka banana man) and Paul have also signed up to run the final marathon of my challenge with me in September in New Forest, so that piss-up is looking better all the time. While other members of my friends and family are now signing up to do half-marathons and 10ks all over the place. Again that’s something that’s been particularly heartning to see that other people seem to be getting a bit of inspiration from rocking up to watch the marathon to putting on their running shoes and cracking into training. Keep it up folks!

Ok best leave it at that for now! We’ve actually got some lovely film footage from London, largely of me bounding up to the camera, kissing the camera woman (my wife, not a stranger) and then doing my best to leg it off again! I’ll try and get that up soon, but for now you’ll just have to cope with a few piccies!

Filed under: London Marathon, Uncategorized | Tagged: London Marathon | Leave a Comment »

Little plastic cups

Posted on April 27, 2009 by markedwards04

As promised I’ve finally gotten around to doing another ‘c word’. If you missed the last one of these (and who could have blamed you as it was months and months ago now), these little posts are mostly about my impressions, thoughts and memories of the time when I had Hodgkin Lymphoma. It’s not some sort of wacky American psycho-therapy for myself, I kind of thought it would be fun and possibly useful for anyone that’s going through similar things.

Anyway I left the last one, after hearing the news of diagnosis, and before I go any further with the next one if anyone’s reading this that actually knows me, you may want to reconsider reading this post as it covers some issues that you may not wish to think of when you think of or indeed see me! Having said that some of it is quite funny, and all of it very true.

So we’d left the last one with the news of the diagnosis and myself in a fair bit of shock. This state of numbing paralysis seemed to continue until my next appointment two weeks down the line with yet another new doctor and at the beginning of my extensive tour of London hospitals. As I mentioned before I’d still not really understood what was going on, and I think that was the reason I seemed to sail through those two weeks between appointments. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me or what was about to happen so I simply carried on as I was. However all of that was about to change with the introduction of my new consultant!

The Royal Free, soon to become my second home.

Just because I haven’t asked for permission to blog about my Dr I’ll leave them nameless but I think Dr Consultant (as I’ll now refer to them) warrants at least a quick mention here. I was basically next referred to Dr C. at the Royal Free Hospital, and an appointment was made for as soon after the diagnosis as possible. So myself and both my parents rocked up to this particularly leafy part of lovely Hampstead to be confronted by probably some of the most shocking and incomprehensible news that you could never wish to hear. Finally someone was literally spelling out what was going to happen although unfortunately Dr C. was also the most suave, sophisticated and charming Dr that you could ever meet, so you also felt a bit disarmed by the whole thing.

I simply remember sitting there (probably agape) as Dr C. rattled off words I had never considered would be part of my treatment… “chemotherapy for 12 treatments, six months… we might start with a bit of radiotherapy and see how that goes first though… no on second thoughts let’s play it safe by doing both…”.

I think I’d thought previous to this, that they would simply get a scalpel dig it out, stitch me back up and send me on my way, unfortunately that vision was now well and truly off the menu.

By this point I don’t think I’d said anything, and the news was to get worse… ” of course there will be a number of side effects to chemotherapy… one possibility is that your fertility could be affected… it’s up to you but you should probably store some sperm… would you like an appointment at University College Hospital (UCL) to store some?”

UCL, stop number three on my extensive tour of London hospitals

Ten minutes later I still don’t think I’d said a word, but perhaps through my crazed rocking it could have been misconstrued as a head nod and therefore a sign of assent. We were now out of the hospital and immediately on our way to UCL for my sperm bank appointment. The drive in the car finally gave me time to come to terms with whatever was happening, and I suddenly realised how crazy this all was and that it was going too fast. My frazzled mind was only just getting used to the fact that I would be treated with chemotherapy (that’s the nasty stuff that makes you lose all your hair isn’t it?), I could barely get beyond that point, let alone make judgement calls on whether I wanted the seed of my future children on ice for the next 50 years or so. Would my girlfriend want me to place a few mini-me’s in the bank? I didn’t know, and I couldn’t ask her, because I didn’t have one! It felt like a very long car journey.

However the day was about to get more surreal. We arrived at UCL in gorgeous bloomsbury to be confronted by a lot of strange corridors and finally found the fertility bank office (I can’t remember what it was really called, but that will do) which resembled a sort of strange storage cupboard more than a bastian of cleanliness filled with the latest medical machinery designed to make babies.

So we were guided in, had a quick chat with the Dr explaining what was going on, and from there I was passed a clear little plastic pot and shown into the luxurious surroundings of a ‘private room’. I say ‘private’ but it was basically just a tiny cupboard with a very thin timber frame door that lead off the main corridor, through which you could hear the staff having a conversation about their plans for the weekend, I didn’t want to think about what they could hear in return.

These were not the most amorous of surroundings. Basically in front of me sat a low down plastic chair with a big roll of giant tissue which you were supposed to pull down over it, and sitting next to a big box of pornographic material which looked about 10 years old. Take it from me, if you thought fashion was bad in the ’80s, you should have seen what was underneath. So all this, along with the fact that my mum was sitting in the corridor outside, did not make for the easiest of conditions, and then the tiny plastic cup they give you is literally the size of one of those plastic cups that you used to get photographic films in, so you have to have the skill and aim of Robin Hood to succeed in filling one of those up.

Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen...

Anyway I think you get the gist, needless to say I undertook the very unpleasant task and therefore the tools to make my spawn are sitting in a freezer somewhere in north London. Of course one trip is not quite enough though, no, to compound things you have to go back a further two times to go through this fun experience in order to produce sufficient funds, so to speak.

Following my first ‘deposit’ I met with the Dr afterwards, and after he’d prescribed my little fellas as ‘satisfactory’ I was told I would also have to go for an HIV test. On top of everything else that had hit me that day, this was now too much. Even though I knew there was little to no chance of me being HIV positive, the prospect of failing a test is always somewhere there in the back of the mind isn’t it? By this time, my face must have been paler than pale and I could barely move, let alone talk or comprehend everything that had happened.

This was easily the worst day of my entire experience of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. No matter what physical abuse my body would take from treatment or recovery it didn’t come anywhere close to comparing with the mental torture of the speed in which everything happened that day and the news that slowly filtered through my brain. I ended up that day feeling pretty desolate, lonely and unable to communicate with the one’s I loved.

Thankfully I can now look back and laugh at the whole experience, and I urge anyone else who’s going through a similar experience to calmly reflect on what’s going on, take some time out and slow everything down to a pace that you feel comfortable with. It’s a bit like marathon running really, and so on to sunnier things. In fact here’s a bit of a spoiler. I finished the London marathon in 4 hours and 5 minutes, hoorah! Full details of that will have to wait for another post later in the week though I’m afraid, this one is already far too long. See you soon.

Filed under: the c word | Tagged: Hodgkin Lymphoma | Leave a Comment »

Donation dizziness

Posted on April 23, 2009 by markedwards04

Holy crap, I’ve just seen that I’ve had my biggest donation to date of £490, and it’s from a guy I’ve never even met! If you’re reading this Nick, thank you ever so much, I’m incredibly humbled, and indeed thank you to Angela and Trev, for spreading the word to you. Hopefully I’ll get to meet you at some point and say thank you in person. Anyone yet to sponsor me you’ve now got a tough task to live up to, but don’t let that put you off trying and click on the link on the right or left… thanks again.

Filed under: Charity | Tagged: Donation, Lymphoma Association | Leave a Comment »

The final three marathons

Posted on April 22, 2009 by markedwards04

Just a very brief post this one to let you know I’ve finally selected (if not quite booked) the final three marathons of this charitable challenge.

So the complete list now looks like this:

01 March 2009, Barcelona - Completed in 3hrs 51mins

05 April 2009, Paris - Completed in 4hrs 06mins

26 April 2009, London

31 May 2009, Edinburgh

20 June 2009, Picnic Marathon – apparently this is one of the toughest marathons in Britain and involves several trips up and down Box Hill in Surrey

19 July 2009, Fairlands Valley - a small marathon around Hertfordshire, there’s not many marathons in July because of the baking heat, but let’s hope this is a good un!

And finally on 27 September 2009, New Forest Marathon – which will be followed by a massive piss-up somewhere in the New Forest to celebrate. All are welcome!

Ok that’s the lot, although I may consider also doing the home-coming marathon in Luton in December as my osteopath tells me that Paula Radcliffe recommended it as one of the toughest marathons you can ever do, largely because a) it’s in December, b) it’s three repetitive laps around an industrial estate, c) it’s in Luton!

Cheerer’s always appreciated at any of the Marathon’s but particularly for New Forest for a few beers afterwards!

Filed under: Charity | Tagged: marathon list | Leave a Comment »

Down and out in Paris and Luton

Posted on April 21, 2009 by markedwards04

So a week to go now until London, and I’ve plenty to update you on!

Sod the culture, I just wanna sleep.

First of all, I just about managed to get past Paris. It took me an increased time of 4 hours and 6 minutes, although I have to confess that I unfortunately didn’t make it all the way round in terms of running, but I’d already broken that rule by the fifth km because of an exceedingly bad bottle neck around the Bastille. The conditions weren’t exactly ideal either, a little bit too warm for my liking, and with only largely water and fruit to get you through the pain I sorely missed my beloved energy drinks!

Indeed I think my slightly slower performance was due to the fact that I’d moved into the next decade by turning 30 the day before. I hadn’t even gone out to get at least even marginally drunk to recover from this fact. But still it was a good birthday and the guys who were with me (my wife, her sister Laura and her boyfriend Paul, and our friend Katie) all helped me pass the day away with much fun, amusement and fantastic presents too! So all in all not a bad way to pass your 30th. So after a lengthy amble around Paris, and an enjoyable meal and a medicinal amount of wine (just to get me off to sleep easier) I was all tucked up for an early night in our rather grotty hotel room at the Timhotel.

Running along the Seine.

So it was up early for my pre-race croissant and enough time to limber up to the start and settle the pre-race nerves. Unfortunately any chance of a warm-up was pretty much decimated by the vast queue to get into my allotted pen, what with 37,000 other runners it was all a bit of a tight squeeze.

Still it was on the whole an enjoyable run, and took in what seemed to be some fairly good climbs into the posh parks of Paris’ suburbs, and there were plenty of people cheering me on, ‘Allez Mark’ it took me a while to remember to respond with Merci rather than my usual grunt. And of course a special mention for my very own fan club who I enviously saw at the 15km marker all sat down with coffees in hand, if I’d seen the chocolate croissants they also had I think I might have had to stop and sit down with them for a while. Indeed that seemed to be the major problem I had throughout the run that I was just so hungry all of the time, that I couldn’t eat enough!

Running through Paris's posh parks, and starting to feel the pain

This was all compounded by an even worse sense of mental torture than Barcelona offered with every single Km counted down. By the time I’d reached the 30km marker I was almost out for the count and only just managed to mentally trawl myself through to each of the next 5km markers where I could stock up on water and dried fruit while having a little rest. And there were also some quite horrible parts running under these great big tunnels while you go past the Seine (indeed I think one of them must be where Princess Di died), it gave me a horrible constricted feeling in my chest, and must have been something like claustrophobia, it was a huge relief to get out the other side and into the open air again.

Medallion man managing to create space through the crowds by wafting a bit of eau de Mark

By this point I wasn’t even sure I could make it but thankfully at about 37km I saw my very own fan club again much to my surprise (how on earth had they beaten me by using public transport!) and Paul joined in with about half a km worth of running before getting b0red I think! But still just that little boost was enough to see me through and I finally made it to Avenue Foch (apparently a great French general, who would have thought?).

Altogether now, Tony Thorpe's mother is a...

The relief was palpable and I felt absolutely shattered at the end, but there was no time to rest as it was straight on to find an Irish bar to watch the mighty Luton return to their second home (Wembley) for the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy final – and what a game it was! It made the fact that I was paying almost £7 a pint just about palatable! Particularly as my watching companion had already written off the mighty hatters chances against Scunthorpe, victory tasted all the sweeter! Unfortunately a week is a long time in football and the following week Luton Town were dumped out of the football league after 89 years. Still much like this marathon challenge I’m sure we will rise again and come back from the purgatory of the blue square premier better than ever!

Ronaldo and the boys showing some love for his adopted homeland.

Unfortunately whilst we were in Paris we also had some very sad news that Katie’s grand dad passed away. By spooky and quite horrible coincidence, the first time I had been in Paris my own Gran had died, so I’m not sure what it is about this city that creates suchg a curse, but I certainly won’t be returning anytime soon. Ronaldo (as he was known in Spain where he spent his last few years) will be sorely missed by his family and friends, and while I didn’t know him for too long, it was immediately obvious to me that he was one of the loveliest, sweetest and indeed funniest people I’ve ever met so I will certainly miss him too. Viva Ronaldo!

OK attention now turns to London, and this all kicks off on Sunday and this time I’ll actually know some of the other runners, both my brother and a few friends are running this one, so my only hope now is to spot them in the mass of 30,000 other runners! Shouldn’t be that hard surely! I’ve not done a lot of training in the three week gap between Paris and London which is probably a good thing as I think fatigue is definitely starting to kick in, which sounds ridiculous as there are people who can run 7 marathons in 7 days, but hey I’m not that fit. On Sunday I only managed a meagre 15 miles (although it was blooming hot, and I had a rather bad hang over) so we’ll see what London brings. In some ways it might be an advantage that I’ve done London before, so I know what to expect and I know where the tough b its are, but I can also hopefully look forward to enthusiastic and loud crowds too. Indeed if anyone is reading this and fancies a day out on Sunday I can’t recommend anything more than going out to watch the marathon, it’s hugely inspiring seeing it in the flesh (unless it’s raining) rather than on the telly (although apparently that music makes certain people burst into tears upon every playing of it!). And of course I’d also really appreciate the cheers too! In fact, I’ll pledge that if anyone makes a banner for me I’ll buy them a pint afterwards, if you can find me in the crowd that is! See you on Sunday…

p.s. once again thank you to all those who have sponsored me, I’ve now broken the £1,000 barrier so we’re starting to get there! Anybody that hasn’t sponsored me yet – no excuses get cracking and onto the justgiving page, there’s a link at the top! Thanks again…

Filed under: Paris Marathon | Tagged: London Marathon, Luton Town, Paris Marathon | 2 Comments »

Je m’appelle Mark, j’ai 30 ans

Posted on March 31, 2009 by markedwards04

Well the weeks tick by and another marathon is almost upon me. Apologies for the lack of posts in recent weeks, it\’s largely because I haven’t had much to say as it’s been a frustrating few weeks.

The lovely looking Patella, more comonly known as the knee cap

The old knee injury (something to do with my patella, or kneecap as it\’s more commonly known, my osteopath asssures me) has largely kept me out of running, so I\’ve spent my days largely sitting at home eating like a runner without the running part.

Although this should have been a lot more fun, I’ve actually found it mildly depressing and added to that depression was the fact that the clock was ticking down to Paris this Sunday (5 April).

Indeed Paris is going to be a doubly depressing marathon for me, as the timing of it actually coincides with two momentous occasions!

The Champs Elysees, where the Paris Marathon will start and finish at on Sunday 5 April

The first is that I will pass into my third decade on the day before the run, meaning an alcohol-free festive celebration for the Saturday at least, although I’m sure that this can be made up for on the Sunday after the run itself. And the second momentous occasion that day may provide a reason for further sinking a few beers, is the huge final that will be happening in Wembley. Yes that’s right I’m missing my beloved Luton Town’s next (and possibly last) trip to Wembley for the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy against Scunthorpe.

Wembley, like the Hatter's second home

As Luton’s time in league football could well be over after this evening (even I will admit defeat if we don’t manage to beat Rotherham tonight) this is probably our final swan song this year. Over 35,000 Hatters fans are on their way to Wembley and unfortunately I’m not one of them. I shan’t repeat the expletives that fell from my mouth after discovering this unfortunate timetable clash after we beat Brighton on penalties, but siffuce to say there’s still a lot of bitterness in my heart about this. I exhausted myself in searching for possibilities of getting back to London for the game, but an early kick-off of 1.15pm soon put paid to that good thnking, briefly considered cancelling, but didn’t think that would go down well with the Mrs and my friends who are coming on the Paris trip with me, which leaves the next best thing I can do is finish the Paris marathon swiftly and get my way to the English pub in Paris and make sure they’re tuned in and keep me well lubricated.

Luckily I have a good five hour gap to finish Paris in thanks to the time-difference and the early start of the marathon before any risk of missing kick-off could occur. Although I must say that I have no idea of how fast I can expect to run Paris in. I was initially hoping to do each one faster than the other, but this already looks unlikely as over the last few weeks I’ve only managed to get one full week of training in, and only one (semi)long run in of 11 miles due to the aforementioned knee injury.

Nike plus scores an F- from me

At one point I was almost on the verge of packing running in as I was using my Nike plus band to track how fast I was going on my short runs and kept on coming back with progressively slower runs going from 10 minute miles to 11 minute miles through to a disastrous 13 minute mile run! Luckily it was at this point that I discovered that I wasn’t running backwards, but my lovely Nike+ band was actually broken! As this has lasted me a whopping three months, I think Nike- would be a more appropriate name for it.

Sponsorship is now trickling in nicely I think I’m just over a tenth of my way to the target and once again thank you to everyone who has, or has promised to, sponsor me so far. Anyone reading this that hasn’t please, please do so now. Whatever you can afford, and I promise in return my undying love and gratitude forever. Surely that’s worth a couple of quid?

Mr Diggines, digging in... do you get it!

Indeed if you don’t fancy sponsoring me, but would prefer to proffer your cash for another worthy cause my very good friend Graham Diggines is also running the London Marathon and is running it for the fantabulous charity the Royal National Institute for the Deaf, and if you fancy taking a look at his page, it’s here: http://www.justgiving.com/diggines

Indeed he’s almost at his target already, so help push him over the edge if you can, so to speak. I am however very annoyed at him for running his first two half marathon’s far faster than I can do them in!

OK, I’d best get back to work as my lunch hour has already dwindles away, but I just wanna say that another episode of the C word will be on it’s way soon and I’ve also got news on what the final three marathons will be! All that to come in the next couple of posts I promise.

Finally I just wanna say welcome home to Sylvie, the bravest and strongest little girl in London, and I look forward to meeting you real soon!

Filed under: Paris Marathon, Training | Tagged: London Marathon, Luton Town, Paris Marathon, Training | 1 Comment »