The Virgin Money 2018 London Marathon - Sunday 22 April - 4h:16m:24s
I was meant to be exhausted. I was meant to have crossed that finishing line having given everything that I had and at the very least got under 4 hours - that was my absolute minimum requirement.
Instead, I finish in 4:16:24, legs destroyed, not knowing which one to hobble on, and NOT feeling tired.
So what happened?
It was 18 January when I found I had my spot for London, my 1st marathon. I was incredibly excited. I'd averaged about 15 miles a week in the previous months, so I felt I had a reasonable base from which to start my training. My 'natural' pace is around 8 min/mile, I was in 21:30 5k shape and so I thought 3h:30 was an ambitious but realistic target. I'm competitive with myself, so I wasn't in the 'just happy to finish' camp.
Looking back on my training, I made 2 mistakes which I feel contributed to my Achilles tendon injury which occurred mid-March:
(1) not taking proper 'cut-back' weeks, whereby you do a lower mileage week every 3 or 4 weeks to allow your body to recover from the increased mileage load
(2) not running 'easy' for the entire week after the Wrexham Half Marathon - the lunchtime Thursday run was at marathon pace and finished it at my 5k PB pace - I was flying! But the following morning I had developed the Achilles problem.
From that point onward my training was massively compromised - it wasn't bad enough to stop me running, but it meant only 2 runs per week and what should have been a 2 or 3 week taper became a 5 week one. My legs had had 40-50 miles per week in them and suddenly that had dropped to 20-25. The legs freshened up pretty quickly but of course lost sharpness and fitness. But I was still encouraged that I could do my long runs at around 8:30 min/mile. With 3 weeks to go, I'd managed 19.4 miles in 2h:46 hours - not bad.
By the time London came around, I was grappling with the uncertainty that the injury had created: what affect had it had on my ability to run 26.2 miles? If 3h:30 was out of the question, then what was possible? I made 4 pace bands: 3h:34, 3:37, 3:40 and 3:45. How naive! Just after I had dropped my bag off in the truck, I saw that my pace bands had disappeared... what an omen! I should have taken that as a sign of how the conditions were to affect everyone's race.
People had been fretting about the weather and our worst fears were realised ... I had a light sweat in the sunshine at 9am. I knew hydration would be key, but pace-wise I ignored it! My naivety and stubbornness had me convinced that 3h:45 was a realistic target... silly boy! Had I been more experienced I'd have take the conditions into consideration and run to heart rate (which at the start was much higher than normal in the heat).
So despite all 4 of my plans having me do the 1st mile or so at 9:00min/mile, I set off at 8:30s... classic rookie error!
I was quite relaxed and calm in Pen 2 at the classic Red Start at Greenwich - I'd put down 3h:40 as an estimated finishing time so why I was so far at the front, goodness knows, but it meant my start was pretty clear and allowed me to run at the pace I wanted - not good in hindsight!
I started with a Buxton water in my hand, sipping little and often and had one in my hand for the whole race, picking one up at every water station - it was *that* hot out there.
Running through Greenwich was wonderful - I saw my girlfriend there which was a real boost and I over-took some chap dressed as Big Ben (huge cheers for him!) but by the time I hit the mile 9 mark the heat had really started to take hold, my pace was slipping and I couldn't pick it up. My legs felt heavy - there wasn't enough in the tank.
Was it any wonder then, taking all the pre-race and race-day factors into account, that I stopped to walk at mile 12 and then continued to run/walk until mile 24? 3 weeks before I'd run nearly 20 miles non-stop in 2h45... and now this was happening? I'd NEVER walked before! I was frustrated but I couldn't let it get me down.
I knew things were getting bad, when 'Big Ben' over-took me just before Tower Bridge where the atmosphere was incredible. But despite how the race was going I was determined to take in my surroundings and remind myself where I was. The race predictor on my watch showed that my predicted finished time had slipped from 3h:40 to now 4h:01... Not even sub-4??? Wow. And there was NO way I was going to be able to pull that back. So with the heat and my injury there was no point in pushing myself beyond my limits.
From there my physical struggle really began ...
Miles 13-20 - the Isle of Dogs and Canary Wharf - renowned for breaking many a marathon runner. I was already 'broke' and I was now stopping to walk every mile or so for about 1 minute. It was tough... and around mile 16 I was thinking how much I liked half-marathons! Every mile marker was a relief - I was very hot, my Achilles was throbbing and I was going very slowly. The crowd noise was deafening, at times almost overwhelming. I've since told friends that it was like either everyone in London knew me ('Come on Johnny!') or that everyone else running was called John!
By mile 20 or so, on the stretch back to the city, I was seeing some pretty bad sights, with people on stretchers and runners on the verge of collapse. I had to count myself fortunate but I also knew that I'd got my hydration and fuelling strategy spot-on.
As if the run wasn't going bad enough, as I plodded through the 22 mile marker, I suddenly felt something in my right shoe... felt like a big stone was in-between my toes. WTF??? I stopped, sat down, took my sock off...
Uh oh... 2nd toenail was in bad shape but I couldn't tell what was going on. Got going again but the toenail was digging into the skin and I was grimacing for the next few miles. I had the left Achilles giving me grief and a dodgy toenail on my right foot. St John's had a look at the end... not good... the nail was lifting off at the back (!) taking skin with it and then digging into the flesh with every step. Lovely.
After that prolonged stop I was determined to get to the finish without anymore walking, despite the pains. And I managed it. The Embankment was lovely - bathed in sunshine and huge groups of charity supporters willing their runners on. Running past Buckingham Palace was a delight with so many of the crowd chanting my name ... and then it was onto the finishing line, making sure I positioned myself for the photographers (of course!) and hobbled across it. My legs had nothing in them - all I wanted to do was sit down and take my socks off... but I had to collect my medal, and then my bag which was situated right at the end of The Mall - just what I needed! It was at this point that I REALLY wished I'd put my flip flops in my bag, to give my toes an airing. They were SORE. Shame then that I had to keep my shoes & socks on for the remainder of the evening.
And it dawned on me that apart from how my legs felt, I wasn't actually tired. Not surprising really... I'd had 13 walking breaks and completed the 2nd half in 2h:20 at an average pace of 10:40/mile - that's very slow for me. It also meant that I wasn't hungry in the slightest - whereas after a 20 mile training run, I'd be ravernous! All very frustrating to be honest. I felt I had loads of energy in me, ready to be used but instead, I'd just finished a marathon. How odd.
Now to find Maria... We'd agreed to meet at the "W" area and now this was at the far end of the meeting points! AAARGH!
She eventually found me... and I sobbed in her arms for a minute. In my adult life I've never been so happy to see someone.
We then made our way to the Red Lion on Whitehall for several pints with my friends - those beers went down very well and very quickly, despite how much water I'd drunk on the course. And I didn't need a pee until 9pm!
I have to thank my friends Kelvin and Caz (marathons #110 & 3h:07 and #101 & 3h:40 respectively) for looking after me that evening - can't go wrong with beers & a great curry 
It would take me several days to process how I felt about the race. My initial disappointment at the time has been tempered by a realisation that the fates had consipred against me and that 4h:16 wasn't bad in the circumstances. My race was compromised from the moment I picked up the injury and the heat just made things a LOT worse. And inexperience led to my pacy start. Had I started off at say 10 minute miles, I think with my injury and 5-week taper, I'd have only delayed the start of my run/walk and I'd have perhaps got a bit closer to 4 hours. And if the weather had been kinder, I'd probably have blown up around the 18-20 mile mark to be honest. In fact, if I'd been fully fit and fully trained, it's clear that I'd have had a similar experience - so many 1st timers like me didn't adjust for the heat and had to run/walk for the 2nd half.
So, looking back I've learnt a huge amount, about my training, strategy, decision making and my mental strength. I got a lot of things right, but also made some big mistakes.
A massive thank you to Jenny and the London Playing Fields Foundation for providing me with this brilliant opportunity. Overall it was a wonderful experience, a huge buzz and a fantastic weekend and I can see why people want to return year after year. For me though, even though I'll reapply for London, I don't feel an overwhelming urge to do it again. I've ticked a massive box. The conditions on the day meant that a lot first-timers felt cheated - that they'd not done their training justice. I feel the same.
So me and marathons? Unfinished business.
I'll be back.
PS You can see me hobble across the finish here (bottom left screen)
bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/p... (forward to 1:51:44 on the scroll bar or 4:23:29 on the white clock)
I suffered with you all over again... Well done for getting it done, you are most definitely King Badass! 
Aye, we all suffered didn't we? 'Brutal' was the word of the day, of the week. No other word comes close to best describing it. As for you young lady ...
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