These Legs Were Made For Running so That’s Just What They’ll Do.

My lungs are burning and every breath tastes like sucking on the end of an exhaust pipe. Running to work and back, although on paper seems a great way to train, during a period of the week which is otherwise wasted on mundane articles in the Metro, has opened my eyes to the London’s pollution problems. I know that compared to Shanghai, Dubai or Mumbai we have exceptionally clean air, but when so many of us have taken to the bicycle and varying fines are imposed on vehicles entering our hallowed capital, burning lungs after 3.1 miles cannot be a good sign.

Because of this, for my 10 mile medi-marathon, a trip to Sussex for the weekend is planned. Saturday I hit the road at 08:00 and with the crisp, clean sea breeze circulating through my body the first three to four miles sail by. It’s between the fourth and fifth mile, a distance that I’m usually quite happy with, that my mind starts wondering to the five miles still left to go.

Obviously this isn’t the fabled Wall that seasoned runners talk about but there is a small psychological battle being waged and I’m not overly determined to win. Setting myself the halfway roundabout as a goal before I pause for the break I’ve resided myself to, I take a swig of Lucozade and plod on. Before I know it the neighbour’s patriotic flagpole is in site and it appears that the simple act of setting achievable goals throughout the run has got me home and dry. An important lesson has been learnt.

To Work and Back

Running to Work and Back, seemed like an ambitious idea at first but definitely not impossible. I got into exercise whilst living in Sydney where every sole is a fitness guru and the morbidly obese are expelled to the Western Suburbs, inland and away from the celebrated beeches. My '3 times a week' run generally lasted half an hour and got me into the best shape I had ever been. Because of this I'm feeling confident about getting back on the road, I haven't however, taken into account the 6 months between fitness obsessive Sydney and present day, months that have been filled with: lots more celebrating (Football World Cup, Ryder Cup, The Ashes, etc.) catching up with old friends and the unforgiving festive season. 

After Saturday's tepid start to training there was a slight feeling of dread as I packed my rucksack in preparation for the morning’s departure. My svelte and active physique of Sydney no longer exists and the prospect of panting my way along the streets of Fulham prompts me to pack a fully charged oyster card and a £20 note should I have to resort to a taxi.

Setting off at 07:00 the Sparrow has only just farted but as I'm still half asleep it's not nearly as painful as I thought it would be. The run is broken up into 3 perfectly lengthed stages which I couldn't have planned better if I'd been on the 2012 Olympic Marathon committee. Running the last 200 metres along Westbourne Terrace I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. I believe this is accredited to a sudden rush of endorphins and for 30 seconds I'm absolutely buzzing, sprinting the final 100 yards to the office. Because of this the return home becomes highly anticipated, unfortunately it turns out to be far less exhilarating. 
Unbeknownst to me Hyde Park has a closing time and I manage to lock myself in. With nothing but the sweat off my upper lip as sustenance the only escape route I can see is to vault the spiked fence and then sprint away from the oncoming guards. Fortunately my ten a day habit at school has trained me well for these eventualities so I got home safe with just a torn trouser leg to give away the nights adventure.

Take One

January 4th 2011, first day back at work and there's an email from Simeon explaining more about Target Ovarian Cancer and a guide on how to achieve match day fitness in the limited time we've given ourselves (no mention of giving up the booze but I figure it can only help). I've given myself the first week off and will start my training on the weekend with a short run around Hyde Park with Ed. We'll be getting our marathon pack via email next week at which point we have to start figuring out how we're going to raise the £25k target set by Target Ovarian. Slowly it’s starting to dawn on me that this isn't just a matter of preparing my body to run 26 miles and 385 yards, we also have people relying, in part, on us to help them continue their life saving work. 

Saturday's jaunt around Hyde Park (6-7 km depending on which route we take) starts off with me eagerly arriving 25 minutes early on my newly repaired, purple 7 gear ratio 5th hand bike. We set off from Marble Arch, iPod's in one ear and Blue Powerade bottles at the ready, and make it down to the Round Pond before needing our first break. We've barely done 3km and are already suffering from chronic chest pains and severe dizzy spells, in actual fact we feel completely drunk! 

Managing to make it to Prince Albert's Statue at a slow trot (I do realise this is starting to sound like a Rough Guide to central London) we pick up the pace for the downhill straight whilst admiring the view and continuing our seemingly endless nattering. We make it back in around 40 mins realising that all that had been accomplished is further knowledge of each other’s activities over the last two weeks and a shared opinion of some of our fellow midday Hyde Park-ians.

Marathon Man.

Marathon Man Boy.

January 2nd 2011, slugging down my last watered down pint of Carlsberg at Geneva airport (£6.50) I'm contemplating the months ahead and assessing my likely chances of survival. In a few hours’ time I'll be back in Blighty when my training for the London Marathon begins. I've sworn of all things "bad" (including piss poor lager) till 17th April, and will try and run the micro-marathon of 3.1 miles from home to work and back again every day. I've had a month or so to mull over this predicament and although still extremely keen to go through with it, looking down at my highly invested belly I'm wondering whether it will actually be feasible. 

In mid-November at the start of the Christmas party season I was out watching one of the most exciting games of English rugby since the 2003 World Cup Final. This is where I met Simeon, an equally avid sports watcher who like me hadn't seen much exercise since his school days and was looking for a way to extend his life expectancy. 

We left the pub and having celebrated for a few hours got onto the subject of Marathons. For some time now I have been recounting my brother’s frankly insane marathon adventures around the world and hoping that, by association, people might find me equally interesting!! 

Having just listed of the 4 or 5 deserts which Jan-Willem has run through, Simeon now chimes in to tell me that he's running the London Marathon and that he needs to put a team together. Being by this time quite well celebrated and having just ranted and raved about my families athleticism I realise that I have no other option but to volunteer my services..... and of course the services of my good mate Ed Mulderig.