Our mood was dark. We’d both spent three months training for this, and now it looked likely that all that hard work, all those Yassos, tempos, fartleks and LSRs, were all going to go to waste. Impossible to break three hours in a marathon that doesn’t exist.
Then my cousin came up with a plan, which at least helped us enjoy our evening meal. We would, he declared, run 26.2 miles the following day whatever happened. Vassos had a top-of-the-range GPS watch which would serve as our distance guide, so even if we failed to break our PBs, at least we’d have achieved part of what we’d flown in to complete.
So bring on the Norwegian sausages, bring on the mutton meatballs, bring on the moose, the fermented trout and the cream-filled pastry pancakes for pudding. And most of all, bring on the beer (in for a penny...). To his great delight, my cousin also managed to sweet-talk the waitress into giving him her email address and the promise of a date when she came to London the following month. So despite everything, our spirits were reasonably high, his especially, as we headed to our rooms to prepare for what promised to be nothing more than a private marathon in the morning.
As it happens, when we turned up to register at the appointed time and place, a short walk along a dual carriageway and across some wasteland from the hotel, we discovered that there was indeed a proper, organised marathon happening on the outskirts of Bergen that day. It wasn’t, however, a big deal. At all.
Asmund, it transpired, organised such a marathon several times every month, hence ‘European Capital of Marathons’. He always used the same course – 6.55 miles along a tarmac footpath up into the hills surrounding the city, back to the start line, and repeat.
It was extremely pleasant and picturesque, but not at all conducive to a personal best. For a start, it was hilly. The Norwegian interpretation of ‘quite flat’ – as promised to us in the emails – and the British marathon-runners’ equivalent, are markedly different things. I guess I should have known better. As I found out in Turin in 2006, Norway is a nation of mountains and glaciers where winter sport is king. I was at the Olympic opening ceremony that year being interviewed on Norwegian TV. The presenter had been shown around the BBC studios in Athens two years previously and had been deeply impressed.
‘So how big is the BBC Radio team in Turin?’
‘It’s just me and a producer.’
‘What?! For the Olympics?’
‘We don’t call these the Olympics. These are the Winter Olympics to us. We’ll do well to get a medal.’
‘Ah,’ mused the Norwegian. ‘For us it is the other way around. We say the Summer Games, but Turin, Salt Lake City, Nagano – these are the proper Olympics. We are a country of mountains and glaciers. Winter sport is king.’
So there you have it. In a nation of mountains and glaciers (and fjords, surely, but they weren’t mentioned), ‘quite flat’ equals hilly. If he’d told us the course was hilly, doubtless we’d have needed ropes and crampons.
The other problem we faced, having only previously run our marathons on closed roads flanked by cheering spectators, was a certain lack of motivation. When there’s nobody watching from the sidelines, nobody at all, and when you’re having to dodge families out for a weekend stroll, dogs on leads, babies in buggies every few metres, it’s difficult to focus on your speed and battle through the pain barrier when you need to. There were only a few dozen runners in total that morning, all spread along 6.55 miles of footpath, so you rarely came across another. And even though my cousin and I both thought we were digging as deep as we could, I’m not sure either of us actually did. This was confirmed the following day when we didn’t feel remotely as stiff and sore as we had after previous marathon exertions. In fact we both resumed running the next afternoon.
Also, compare and contrast the happy masses lining the road at the end of (indeed throughout) the London Marathon, along with the music, the drummers, the PA system, the party atmosphere and the packed, cheering stands on the Mall, to the finishing line in Bergen: as we completed our marathons, my cousin and I, a few minutes apart, were greeted by a bored-looking bloke with his back to us pressing a button on his stopwatch and continuing to talk into his phone.
The time was disappointing too: just outside the magic three-hour mark.
Oh well, we thought on the plane home as we planned our next assault on a marathon finishing time starting with a two, at least we got to try mutton meatballs.
Jo Pavey MBE
Became the oldest female European champion in history when she won 10,000m gold in 2014 in Zurich aged almost 41, ten months after giving birth to her second child. She’s also a four-time Olympian, and is currently training hard to make that five in Rio in 2016.
It wasn’t obvious to me when I was a young child that I would be any good at running, because at primary school all we did was 60m or 70m sprints. I wasn’t particularly good at those, but I did always keep fit, roller-skating and playing football with the lads in the street. It wasn’t until I went to secondary school and I got the chance to run a bit further that I realised I was quite good. My PE teacher asked me to run two laps of a sloping grass track and she was really pleased with how I did. She recommended that I went to an athletics club, so I tried all the different events and found I really did enjoy distance running. So I joined a group that specialised in that and it went from there.
I loved the whole thing: that challenge of trying to improve my time; that I was running for me; but also, as a teenager, I enjoyed starting to travel to races in different parts of the country. I loved the aims and goals, and the social side of it too. I find that if you take pleasure in what you’re doing, you keep doing it.
I still absolutely love running, and it’s a real bonus to still be doing it because I thought I’d be retired at this stage in my life. I thought 2014 would be my final year, so I’m just really excited to still be out there and trying to make race plans. My massive goal is to try and make the Olympics in Rio but I’m not complacent about that; I know it’s going to be tough. Still, it’s exciting to keep dreaming of goals like that.
I love everything about running: the feeling of freedom, getting out into the countryside, running in beautiful places. And then I’m trying to hit targets and training; I like the challenge of that, and the challenge of the races... it’s exciting. And having goals gives you some focus.
I think anyone who wants to take up running should set themselves a goal like a first 5k or 10k. You’ve got something you’re aiming for but you can also make it sociable and go along to a running group. It doesn’t have to be too serious; just enjoy your running and have something to aim for.
I love the long, slow runs too. I pick somewhere nice to run in the countryside and try to take in the scenery. It gives me a chance to gather my thoughts and think about what I’m going to do later in the day, get myself organised. Or I let my mind wander. Sometimes I imagine songs in my head. Running easily refreshes my mind really. It’s quite a de-stressor, being out there and running – and when I get back in, I end up feeling better and fresher.
If you’re a runner you’re always a runner. I don’t think I’m ever going to retire completely from running – I’m always going to run because I love it. I love the way it makes you feel good about yourself, boosts your self-esteem and it’s fun to feel fit. And now that I’m a mum, it’s important to show my kids that it’s good to be healthy. I’m always going to run and always keep involved with running – maybe do a bit of coaching or think about getting involved with running camps. I’ll definitely keep running until I’m well into old age.
* Running the second half of a marathon quicker than the first.
† Gradual lessening of the running load in the fortnight leading up to the marathon in a bid to arrive at the start line as fresh as possible.
‡ Marathon runners’ (usually irrational) fear of something going wrong in the days leading up to the race, like picking up an illness or injury. Maranoia almost always incorporates lavish hypochondria, and generally dri
ves loved ones crazy.
§ Stands for Long Slow Run, the weekly staple of marathon training.
¶ Yasso 800s, a training device invented by the famous American coach Bart Yasso. Run ten 800m repeats as fast as possible (with a 400m jogged recovery between each one), and you can convert your average 800m time, measured in minutes and seconds, into a predicted marathon finish time, in hours and minutes. It’s surprisingly accurate.
** An uncomfortably fast, speed-improving, mid-paced run of around half an hour at lactate threshold pace, or just a little slower than the speed at which your muscles start to produce lactic acid (hurt).
†† From the Swedish meaning ‘speed play’, this is a run that incorporates faster and slower sections.
‡‡ Recoveries are easy runs to aid recovery from harder runs like LSRs, Yassos, tempos and fartleks. Ideally, you finish a recovery run feeling better and fresher than you did when you started it.
21
Ed Sheeran, Runaway
‘Outlaw’ Ironman Triathlon, Mile 21
It feels good to have made a decision. To know that come what may, I’m going to finish this, or at least collapse trying. There’s a new certainty, a new steeliness inside me now. No longer am I worried about doing myself a long-term injury. I’ve trained for this event for months. My inner jury has reached a verdict and I’ve settled on a judgement. I will carry on regardless. I’d never forgive myself if I stopped before I absolutely had to. So this is it. The pain will have to continue. The mantra that got me through my first-ever marathon comes to mind. Just. Keep. Going. And for some reason, I’m still getting faster. Makes no sense, but there goes another mile in well under eight minutes. Compared to what’s gone before, I feel like I’m flying.
I’ve often thought I should join a running club. My marathon-running cousin swore by his (often brutal) Wednesday evening sessions with the Serpies in London, and would frequently cajole me to come along. I did quite fancy the sound of it, but I would always decline for the simple reason that it takes me ages to get to sleep after an evening run, especially a hard one. Like most clubs, the Serpentine Runners tend to meet in the evenings. Late nights and Breakfast Shows don’t mix well.
‘It’s funny you say a lot of things are in the evenings, and many are, but then we also have, for example, Saturday morning hill sessions.’ I’m chatting to perhaps the busiest person in Britain. Somehow I’ve managed to squeeze into the overflowing diary of Jennifer Bradley, chair of the UK’s biggest running club (the aforementioned Serpies), senior civil servant (head of Labour Market Strategy at the Department of Work and Pensions), running writer, baking blogger and ultra-marathoner extraordinaire. When we speak, she’s recently returned from running across her second entire country (the USA; her first was France where she also conquered the fearsome Mont Blanc ultra-marathon). And she’s currently, like my cousin before her, trying to persuade me that running clubs are for everybody. Even Breakfast Show sports reporters.
‘For instance, that Saturday morning hill session, that’s the kind of thing I would never do on my own. I would never purposely run up and down hills at speed, time and time again, until I’m feeling horrific, unless there were lots of other people doing it with me, encouraging me, trying to improve my times week on week. I think it’s just about seeing the potential and not being scared.
‘It’s funny, the number of people who turn up the first time and have no anticipation of what it’s about and then think, ‘Oh, I see,’ and come back again – and then get so involved that they can’t imagine not having a running club as part of their life, even their social life.’
Ah yes, the social side of these clubs. This is something I’ve heard time and again whilst talking to people about how they first fell in love with running. Paula Radcliffe told me how it was the friends she made at Bedford and County as much as the sport itself, that kept her interested, and kept her going back. And obviously, for a runner who’s new to an area, a club is an easy way to meet like-minded people and form friendships... and often more. It’s often said, for instance, that the Serpentine is something of a glorified dating agency.
‘Yes, we get that a lot. And we do end up with many couples getting together because it’s compatible people who are choosing to do a similar thing with their evenings and weekends. Then we also have a big Christmas party, we do socials, we have a last-Wednesday-of-the-month cheese and wine event, we hold week-long training sessions abroad, all that type of thing. It’s natural that you’re going to get people who hook up and get together and start dating. And yeah, we have had weddings, and now there’s even a whole raft of Serpentine babies. And they’ve all had little knitted Serpentine tops made for them. But we didn’t set out to be a dating agency. We are mainly about the sport side of it, the running.’
Speaking of which, I’ve met several people, dozens of them, who are wary about approaching a running club, thinking they’re not good enough, not fast enough, or too old. Over to Jennifer.
‘The thing that really surprised me when I first joined Serpentine, and I think most running clubs fall into this bracket, is the range of abilities. Actually, it’s not just for people who are good, seasoned runners. It’s for everyone from beginners to women returning after pregnancy to people wanting to better their marathon time.
‘And if you’re nervous, it’s okay just to go along with an open mind and think about how it can help you and become an enjoyable way of doing your running. Otherwise it can be quite a solitary sport.
‘The bulk of our runners will be your once- or twice-a-week runners who turn up for a jog in the evening and enjoy it. Not necessarily looking to improve dramatically, maybe just focusing on a half-marathon at some point. We do focus on participation, more so than the top end. However, it’s also great for the club to have some of those leading runners too, to have a good spread.
‘So we have everything from beginner sessions all the way up to people who ran in the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow. We have 2,000 members. There’s only ever going to be a few hundred at most who are right at the competitive top end.’
Loads of great reasons to join, and I don’t know what’s been stopping me. From a geographical point of view, it would probably be Barnes Runners rather than the Serpentine or, more likely, Sheen Shufflers as they have a junior section and I think (hope) it’s something my children would also enjoy. I know it would improve me as a runner. It definitely worked for Jennifer.
‘Actually, it’s only through joining a running club that I’ve got better because if I’d just kept on jogging at the same pace around Hyde Park on my own I’d probably have got bored with it. And I don’t think I’d have known what to do to push myself. I’ve been a member ever since I started running. I came across a group of people in Hyde Park and thought “they look nice, and they’re having a lot more fun running together than I am on my own” – so I just joined in. And from that, I became the first British person to run across America.’
Colin Jackson CBE
His 110m hurdles world record lasted over a decade. A multiple World Champion and Olympic medallist, his 60m world record still stands. He’s now, amongst many other things, a key member of the BBC athletics commentary team.
Most probably the first time I realised I was fast was when I went to see my sister run at an event. She’s five years older than me and she was running for the City of Cardiff. During her race I’m just running alongside them and I’m thinking to myself, ‘Actually I’m beating the majority of these people – and I’m only three.’ My sister was eight at the time. So that’s when I first thought that perhaps I do have a little bit of a future in running. But you know when you’re really young, you just love sport and that was me – I just loved all sports. I guess you could describe me as a competitor.
Sprint hurdles was something that came quite naturally to me. I enjoyed sprinting, I enjoyed long jumping and I enjoyed high jumping – so I thought the combination of those events could be magic. And there was something a lit
tle bit arty about hurdling, which I thoroughly revelled in – and also, I was winning the races really easily. You know when you’re young and you’re comfortably winning all your races, it’s so much easier to get engaged with the whole event. Unfortunately I didn’t grow but the hurdles did, so I had to work a lot harder to keep winning when I got older.
High hurdles is very much about a rhythm and once you get into a groove, you know brilliant things can happen. In training, you would hit this kind of rhythm that was just outstanding, and you would always want to be able to do that in competition. You knew that if you could replicate that rhythm in a big competition at some stage, you would absolutely nail a performance. I was always looking forward to a time when the conditions were going to be right and the race really mattered. When you get that kind of combination, then fireworks can happen and I was lucky enough that everything came together on that particular day at the World Championships in Stuttgart in August 1993, and I set the world record.
These days, I find it quite easy to go for a long run. That may seem quite bizarre and even as I say it, it seems very weird, because I was once measured as having 50% more fast twitch muscle than normal, and 12 times more super-fast twitch muscle. Nevertheless, I could quite comfortably complete a 10km run and I wouldn’t think twice. I don’t even think I would prepare for a 10km run; I would just go out there and run it. I would complete it in about 50 minutes since it’s just like a nice little pace, a nice little stroll. What people may not quite understand is, to get down to around that 40 minute, 35 minute mark, you have to put some serious training in because there’s a big difference. For those six miles, you need to really nail the performance. But for people who are just generally fit like myself, you could easily just stroll it in that way, 50 minutes.
I never did any longer runs when I was competing, but these days when I do, it completely clears my head. I totally disengage and I enjoy my environment and the situation that I’m in. Again it’s about that rhythm. You know when you’re running and you’ve just gotten into a lovely tempo, and when the weather is lovely like it is today, and I go out for a jog in the early morning – because that’s the only time I would be brave enough to do it – that’s what I do. I can clear my mind and just go.
Don't Stop Me Now Page 18
