On Sunday morning in London, thousands of people will undergo a ritual familiar to anyone who has run a Marathon. The extremely early wake-up call after a fitful night’s sleep. The enormous breakfast bowl of porridge, or multiple slices of toast, to store energy for what lies ahead. Vaseline smeared on the nipples, inner arms and thighs. The last-minute trip – or rather trips – to the loo. Excitement, fear and adrenaline at the start. A glorious wall of noise from the hordes of spectators lining the course. And then, 26.2 miles later, an overwhelming buzz of success.
Last year, the London marathon celebrated its one millionth finisher since its first event in 1981, yet the demand for places continues to swell. This year, more than 250,000 people entered the ballot: 39,000 will toe the starting line. Whether you are one of those about to pin a number to your chest, or you suspect that you might one day catch this mysterious bug, here is my guide to a good marathon – from someone who has no intention to run a marathon.
How long do you need to train for?
The first choose a realistic training plan and a realistic timeframe. Such plans usually range from 12 to 20 weeks, but even those for beginners tend to assume that you are already capable of running three times a week. The London marathon ballot results come out in October, so if you bag a place for 2018, you need to spend October to January gently building up. Niggles are par for the course and a few days’ rest may sort them – proper injuries may disrupt your plans. Accept that, and listen to your body.
How much commitment does it take?
Let’s not beat about the bush. It’s a long-term commitment. There will be freezing Sunday mornings when your alarm shrills at your groggy head and your body is a bundle of mysterious aches, facing the prospect of a training run longer than you have ever tackled before. You will have to alter your schedule to sneak in extra miles, perhaps running to work, running at lunchtime or forgoing social occasions. There will be moments when you question your sanity. This all takes support, sometimes lots of it. If you have a partner, they must, for all practical purposes, sign up, too, whether it’s by having a hot bath ready for your return, or by happily acquiescing to quiet Saturday nights in. A running buddy training for the same race is invaluable, as are running clubs, or look online and find a forum for people with similar mad goals.
Setting a goal.
It doesn’t matter how fast you can zip round a 5k fun run, or how much you fancy your chances of smashing a colleague’s personal best: the primary goal before your first marathon should be to finish it. Anything else is just the icing on the well-earned cake. The course of 26.2 miles is – forgive the glaring lack of logic – more than double a half marathon. The cliché that “the race begins at 20 miles” is true. Push beyond that barrier, and suddenly things fall apart – the body cannot hold. By all means use a “race time predictor” on the internet to estimate your time, and aim for that, but remember that is probably a best-case scenario. Adapt, and adjust – both before, if injuries threaten – and during, if things don’t go right on the day. And hey, remember, the first time you race any distance, it’s a guaranteed personal best.
How long should your training runs be?
People get fixated on this, but really, the best advice is to not to worry about distance but to work to a maximum “time on feet”. Whether that takes you to 18, 20 or 22 miles is irrelevant – the point is that you need to recover from that before you run the marathon itself. Most people do this three weeks before, but four is fine, and might be better. Pushing yourself further into unknown territory, just so that you know you can, will only risk still-tired legs on race day. And when your stomach fills with dread at the prospect of 20 miles in grey drizzle, remember that everyone feels like this. Those slogs, on your own, with no adrenaline, no rest, and no crowd support are the hardest part. Get your training right and race day will genuinely seem easy in comparison.
What should I eat?
Before his first London marathon, the former 10,000-metre record holder Dave Bedford had a large curry and countless beers – having entered the race for a bet a few hours before. Needless to say, this is not the optimum strategy. But how seriously you take your training nutrition depends on your goals. If you surveyed regular runners, one of their top reasons for running would be “so that I can eat more cake”. By all means, reward yourself within reason – and don’t go overboard on “recovery shakes”. Almost all sports nutrition products are simply a more convenient way in which to replace lost carbohydrates and protein – particularly important for recovering muscles. But really, proper food is better. The week before your big race is an appropriate time to try and eat as healthily as you can, drink minimal alcohol but plenty of water, and sleep as much as possible.
What about carb loading, and gels during the race?
Around two to three days before the race, you can start carb loading. When we run, we burn fats – of which we have a near-limitless supply, regardless of body shape – and carbohydrates. The latter, in the form of glycogen, starts to run out after about 90 minutes. Carb loading ensures that your glycogen levels are at their peak when you start. Yet wonderful though it is to have a legitimate excuse to binge on pizza, try not to go overboard. You don’t want to give yourself stomach problems. And make sure, whatever you have for breakfast on race day, that you have tried and tested it before a long run.
During the race, your glycogen tank will start depleting. If you don’t top it up, you could hit the dreaded “wall”. Whether you replace it in the form of gels, jelly beans, or sports drink (or nothing) is a personal choice but one that it is essential to practise in advance. Find out what works for you and what your stomach can tolerate. Race day is not a day for sudden random experimentation.
And enjoy it. Or as much of it as you can. I’ll be on the edge of my sofa cheering you on.