Soo. Given how some dress rehearsals go, this one has been suspiciously easy. The longest week in terms of my marathon training plan saw me running five days out of seven, with 92km covered from Sunday to Saturday, only today clocking in 32km and feeling pretty alright, actually.
In the past few months building up to it l tried different fuel and none of it worked (sports drinks, energy bars, sweets), all made me cave in around 25-28km mark, frustrated with fatigue and sore thighs. Mind you, all was done through running with no stops or walking breaks which brought up another issue, an ominous beep from deep inside my left knee, the one from The Injury Fame. Then l reluctantly retreated to what more than once misswobble suggested in order to break my stupidly stubborn attitude ("run or nothing, walking is treason") given that the 'ominous beep' forced me to take walking breaks in order to continue. However, Jeff Galloway formula didn't quite work out with me based on his 'magic mile' formula. It bored me stiff and it killed my rhythm. In desperation l then tried to walk for 30 seconds after every kilometre (having run 15km first) and powered by my new find, Tailwind drinks, l covered 28km, then 32km with literary no issues whatsoever, feeling absolutely fine and fatigue free. l figured 15km would be a good distance to start walk/run as it's between feeling 'fresh' and getting 'troubled'. Wild guess in fairness but wild guesses took me to my middle age with not much turbulence, so why going wild with mad ideas?
The greatest part was trying my brand new route to accommodate all that mileage so l added on some some extra bits to my existing famous rock'n'roll paths of London and ran past 25 Brook Street in Mayfair where both Hendrix and Handel resided, Manchester Square corner where EMI building once stood and the Beatles were photographed on its balcony (and so were the Sex Pistols). For some funny reason l always remember Irish-John when The Pistols are the theme. Johnny Rotten is Irish after all so there! Around the corner was less rock but equally roll 221 Baker Street where the insane queue led to its museum door where Sherlock Holmes 'was' the famous resident and then The Regent's Park, famous hunting ground of our one and only, the inimitable Hidden
I now have a few weeks of easier work and consolidation and then l will try to cover the big one, if l can. I've got more music landmarks to run past, more of it once it's done. Life, as always, is interfering with petty delays but I'll give it my best shot. Patience, as always, remains the key!