THE ART OF SLOWING DOWN

Written by Phil Cairns

Well, that was special! I’ve supported London Marathon a bunch of times. Mostly from mile 23 with the Eagles, and one time at Westminster with my sister and her family to cheer on my brother-in-law (who we missed). So I know how nuts the support is in sections of the race. What I wasn’t prepared for was how much of the route feels like that. The hot day and the Guinness World Record-winning number of runners doubtless brought more supporters out than normal. And maybe there was already a rose tint to my post-race delirium. But apart from a couple of dips around the underpasses, it really felt like there was an incredible level of crowd support all the way round. 

And I loved the way it changed character in different sections. I got a bit confused about where I was at times as so much of the route was unfamiliar. But I was conscious I think around Deptford at mile 7/8 of going through a section where all the sound systems seemed to be pumping out music of black origin, all reggae and steel drums. And likewise Rainbow Row, the LGBTQ+-dedicated stretch, certainly added more colour and carnival atmosphere than I imagine you normally find in Limehouse. I admired the courage of the marshal who was trying to contain a drag queen who’d gotten a bit rowdy!

I was asked to arrive at 8.30am for a 10.01 start and had discarded the hoodie I’d taken to keep warm at the start by 8.45, which was a sign of how hot the day was going to be. I decided to do the sensible thing and follow the organisers’ medical advice about dropping pace because of the sudden rise to tropical temperatures. I revised my target time from 3 hours 30 (8 min/miles) to 3’45 (8’30). But from mile 18 onwards as it became more attritional, I pretty much stopped looking at my watch and just focused on keeping going. I felt like I’d slowed more than I actually did, so while coming in at 3’46 was a minute outside my revised target, I certainly didn’t leave anything out there and felt able to be pleased with that. 

I thought the event organisation was world class: super clear signposting to the different start areas and announcement about the wave start times, no queue to drop bags, toilet queues moved quickly. Anything that’s logistically difficult or takes up lots of time on race morning fuels my nerves, but it was such a smooth operation, everyone around me seemed as relaxed as could be at the start.

I’d opted not to have my name on my bib and wasn’t expecting to see anyone near the start. So it was a big surprise to hear my name being bellowed out about 500 yards into the race. It turned out my brother-in-law had been volunteering at the start and had dashed out to support after finishing his stint. He took a hilarious set of photos of me as I ran past him which, viewed in sequence, show perfectly realisation dawning as the penny dropped it was him!

The first group of friends I was expecting were at around mile 7.5. I was worried about spotting them, but to reduce the likelihood of missing them, one of them told me he was going to bring a large cardboard cinema standee of Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. I thought it was pretty goofy when he told me. Pro-tip: standing underneath a beacon of The Rock sure makes you easy to spot in a crowd!

I did pretty well at spotting everyone I knew was going to be en route, and some I didn’t. Lisa Emerson and Liz Ainsworth (and I think a third person who I missed – sorry) found a relatively secluded spot at around mile 9 that made them pretty unmissable. Around a mile later I was lifted by Stuart Pugh’s dulcet tones bellowing out my name, followed I think shortly after by Dave Bone and Caroline Rush. And Paul Duffy popped up for a high five later on, somewhere around Canary Wharf maybe? I was a bit delirious by that point. I felt bad for missing Rachel Job (on a water station at the start) and Lou Winstanley (in the Run Mummy Run support crew around mile 19), although less so after the race when both told me they’d been moved from where I was expecting them to be!

I didn’t spot many other Eagles running, so it was nice to be able to give Peter Mizzi a shout when I passed him at around mile 6. I don’t really know Peter but his name on the West Ham top and club legend status made him easy to spot. I don’t think he had a clue who I was but he perked up when he saw my Eagles vest!

It was also a boost after crossing Tower Bridge to see a speedy Eagle bombing back the other way on the switchback. At the time I thought it was Ben Smith, but he wasn’t listed in the results as one of the Eagles taking part, so I’m not sure who that was. 

And then of course there was mile 23. My one regret of the day is that I didn’t take this in more. I’ve been on the other side of the barrier a few times and it’s one of my favourite days of the year, the vibe of community, encouragement, positivity and support we show one another (and all the other runners). And don’t get me wrong, the thought of still being able to muster a smile and a high five for the Eagle gauntlet definitely helped me get there still feeling upbeat! But I was so over-excited, I bombed down the path too quickly to really take it in. I picked a couple of people out, but it was quite hard to work out where the Eagles started and ended, and then once I spotted Andrea Hendy and realised I was in your midst, it became a sea of faces that passed so quickly! Given my target time had gone out the window, I wish I’d slowed down, savoured being on the other side of the barrier and picked out a few more of you. Nonetheless, your support was hugely appreciated!

It became apparent immediately after mile 23, how much I’d been holding myself together to get there in one relatively happy piece. Almost as soon as I jumped back down onto the road, I became aware of the bits of me that were going awry! My quads felt super sore and tight, and the sense that my last gel hadn’t landed well morphed into a growing realisation I might be sick. So many runners had worn themselves out and started walking from about mile 18 onwards, and at this point I realised I had to revise my target down again to – just finish the race without walking. Those last couple of miles were tough. I loved Babs’ report, and the emphasis she put on remembering everything. Which made me realise I have pretty much no recollection of passing Big Ben, I was just so focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other, grinding out the last stretch. Happily I made it to the end without walking or vomming. But I could barely get anything down me when I met my friends in the pub after. While being put to shame by the mid-50s European lady runner next to me, wolfing down a pint and a baked camembert!

I thought I’d finish up writing about the signs in the crowd, as that is one thing that did really register with me. I realised how much I appreciate a dry sign. Someone holding up a placard saying “MOTIVATIONAL SIGN” will always do it for me. Another that got me was, “ENJOY EVERY KILOMETRE EQUALLY”.

I also like a pun, so the variations on “KEEP CHAFING YOUR DREAMS” tickled me.

A woman holding up a sign saying “IF YOU THINK THIS IS HARD, YOU SHOULD TRY HINGE,” made me chuckle. And similarly on a dating theme, I spotted at least two young women brandishing, “WHY DO ALL THE CUTE ONES RUN AWAY?”

Moving into weirder territory, “IF YOU THINK IT HURTS, TRY GASLIGHTING YOURSELF,” felt a bit passive-aggressive!

But the prize for weirdest sign I saw on the day was the woman wearing around her neck a placard depicting an open pair of female legs with her own head poking through the vagina, bearing the message, “KEEP PUSHING!”

For all that the London Marathon felt like a slog because of the unexpected temperature rise, this was just the best experience. A really joyous coming out and coming together, a celebration of support and positivity and encouragement, a 26-mile-long festival atmosphere, running alongside so many people fundraising each with their own stories and reasons for doing so, that lovely thing the Running Commentary podcasters talk about when they describe marathons as thousands of people each on their own completely individual journey through the same collective experience. It felt like London at its absolute best.

Thank you Ealing Eagles for the chance to run it this year and I look forward to cheering on next year’s ballot winners from mile 23. Just remember to slow down a bit and take it in…

LET’S DO THIS!

Written by Phil Cairns

I’ve been procrastinating over this post (as ever, sorry Amber…) as I don’t have much to write. It’s been an incident-free last couple of weeks of training so I don’t have a lot to report. The most notable event was having an incredibly early first marathon anxiety dream. About 10 days before race day, I dreamt I arrived at the start and was first in the pen, and then got anxious about where in the vast, empty pen it was best to position myself. In hindsight, I perhaps should have been more worried about why there was no one else there.

I did my final long run (18 miles) three weeks out. I still felt a bit fatigued post-Riverside 20, but it went fine. I put in another reasonably solid following week, culminating in 14 miles that included the Sunday morning club run. And I’ve finished with a 2-week taper where I’ve done very little. 

I have to say that I find getting to the taper, finishing the training injury-free and earning the right to taper, almost as satisfying as finishing the marathon itself. 16 weeks of training is such an epic commitment, and fitting it in around work and life stuff is never straightforward. A different form of marathon, but very much its own marathon effort, and I always feel so thrilled and relieved to hit that marker.

But of course, the thrill doesn’t last long. After about three days, the guilt kicks in that I’m not doing enough. Swiftly followed by the anxiety whenever anyone coughs or blows their nose in a 30-yard radius of me. Is it too much to attend the Expo in full hazmat gear?

As a London Marathon first timer, it was good to have a quick chat to Harry Claxton at Gunnersbury Park Run last weekend about gel strategy and how much of a bunfight the water stations are. The weather forecast for Sunday seems to be getting warmer as the week progresses, but I think I’m still going to stick to plan a of taking my own gels and relying on the water stations to hydrate.

I’ve run 513½ miles since Liz Ainsworth sent me the message from the Christmas party to say my name had been drawn out of the hat and I’d won the ballot place. Thanks to all the coaches who ran track sessions through the winter. Thanks to everyone who’s kept me company on club runs over the last few months. Thanks to anyone who’s read or commented on one of these blog posts. And thanks in advance to everyone coming out to mile 23 on Sunday. I hope I can still muster a smile of appreciation by that point.

And best of luck to everyone running at London or Manchester this weekend. Excited! Let’s do this!

TA-PER OR NOT TA-PER

Written by Phil Cairns

I’m a bit short of blog inspiration this week so I’ll keep this post short and sweet.

“It’s time to taper!” London Marathon gleefully announced to me in Monday’s marketing email. A 3-week taper has always felt quite long, to me. Which might be because I don’t run crazy high mileage when I’m in the ‘hard yards’ weeks of training. There’s less for me to taper down from. 

But I had a pre-taper week (I’m not sure this is a recognised coaching term) after Riverside 20. After finishing the race on such a high, I definitely felt some wear and tear in the week after, and the fatigue has only just cleared a week later. Nothing serious, just creaky knees and ankles, stiff calfs and hamstrings, and heavy legs whenever I did don the trainers and head out for a run.

So even though I was still 5 weeks out from London Marathon, I decided to listen to my body, ease up for a week, then push myself (very much a relative term) for 2 more weeks, leaving myself a 2-week taper leading up to the big day.

I am a little worried I’ve peaked too soon. Riverside 20 went so perfectly and felt so effortless that I’m worried that’s my marathon performance. Like the England rugby team demolishing New Zealand in the semi-final of the 2019 World Cup before barely getting out the blocks against South Africa in the final. Will I be able to rally myself to that sort of effort again?

(Did I actually just compare myself to the England rugby team? Dear lord…)

One thing that hasn’t happened this time, unlike other marathons I’ve trained for, is that I haven’t got bored. Normally I hit a wall around two-thirds or three-quarters of the way through my training plan where it just feels like ALL I’m doing is running, eating, sleeping and working, and all the joy gets sucked out of it. Not sure why that hasn’t happened this time. Maybe the novelty of training in winter? Maybe the excitement of FINALLY training for my hometown marathon? Maybe the prospect of FINALLY being on the other side of the barrier at mile 23 and seeing all your (hopefully) excitable faces?

I’m not fundraising this time round. But my fellow ballot winner Babs is, for the local hub of Mind, who do brilliant work in the local community around mental health. She’s now surpassed her initial goals of £500 and £750. But typically, she’s not resting on her laurels and is pushing for £1000 by race day. Fancy giving her a few quid to get her over the line?

https://www.justgiving.com/page/babs-pinheiro-marathon

TARGET PRACTICE

Written by Phil Cairns

I signed up for Thames Riverside 20 a few weeks ago, and because of the timing of it, thought it would make a good topic for the sixth of my blog posts. I’ve never run a 20-mile race before, and it’s my only tune-up race on the road to London Marathon, so I thought a race report would take care of this particular club requirement.

Only… I’m not good at writing race reports. I just don’t remember stuff. Nothing seems remarkable. I’m so jealous of people who can turn their races into these step-by-step narratives, detailing incidents along the way that build into a satisfying story. (Yes, I’m looking at you and your excellent Lisbon Half report, Babs!)

I mostly remember the start. And the finish. And there definitely being some running in between. But… not a lot more than that. I could put a sophisticated veneer on this, claim I enter a meditative state, power down my brain in order to channel all energy into the sole purpose of putting one foot in front of the other. But frankly, I think it’s more that I’m just a bit dopey.

Nonetheless, taking a step back and looking at how Riverside 20 fits into my marathon journey, there is a significance to it.

Two weeks ago, I started to think about goals for London Marathon. I decided to adopt the Running Commentary podcast approach, and set myself gold, silver and bronze targets:

Gold: sub-3’30. (I haven’t run a sub-3’30 marathon since 2016, so this seemed ludicrously optimistic).

Silver: sub-3’40. (My last two marathons have been 3’38 and 3’43, so this seemed a more realistic target).

Bronze: sub-3’50. (Faster than my slowest marathon).

Two weeks ago, I was finding it hard to gauge where I was. I felt like I’d done enough long runs and enough track/intervals work. My weekly mileage is always on the lower end of what most marathon runners bank, but within my own parameters, I felt like I was doing ok. The bit that was missing was tempo runs. I felt I hadn’t done enough longer runs trying to sustain a target pace to know where I was fitness-wise.

So two weeks ago, I did two tempo runs. One intentional, one unintentional.

The intentional one was a grey Thursday afternoon attempt to run 8 miles at 8-minute miles. The weather looked a little dicey to the naked eye, but I waited until Accuweather suggested there would be no precipitation for 60 minutes and headed out. 3 miles in? Hail arrived. F**k you, Accuweather. I sped up in a bid to get home quicker, and when I got back, discovered I’d run 7’40 miles. And more importantly, it hadn’t felt that hard.

Then last weekend, I ran from home in Acton down to Ealing to do the Sunday morning club run, then back home again. 14 miles total. I ran club run with Dominic Wallace, chatting all the way round. We said we’d aim for around 8’30 miles, and reined ourselves back a couple of times when we realised we were going too quick. But mostly we (or at least I, I can’t speak for Dominic) enjoyed having a good old natter, and didn’t pay much attention to our pace. I got home to discover I’d averaged 8’04 over the 14 miles, unintentionally almost hitting 8-minute miles. Which, Dominic reminded me, is 3’30 marathon pace.

So my quandary for Riverside 20 was – do I treat it as a dry run for London Marathon and try to sustain 8-minute miles for 20 miles? Dominic counselled against this, suggesting that running 20 miles at target race pace 5 weeks out from a marathon was a foolhardy endeavour.

Clearly I am a fool.

I decided to set out at 8-minute miles and allow myself to throttle back in the latter stages if I felt like I was overdoing it.

This race is normally quite a popular one with Eagles running spring marathons. But until quite close to race day, no one had signed up to my Facebook event, so I had wondered if it would just be me this year. I didn’t twig that the proximity of Queen of the Suburbs the day before likely meant most Eagles who could afford to give up half their weekend would be either running or volunteering at that. But Carys Morgan took pity on me being Billy No-Mates and signed up quite late, and it was a lovely to surprise to bump into Allie Collins, Maria Hazzard and Glenn Matthews at the start.

I’ve always hated running in pacer groups. I like being a pacer, I’ve done it at EHM and the Eagles 10k a few times. But running in a pacer group always feels too congested to me, plus I don’t respond well to the spin-class-like abuse of the more energetic, motivational pacers. (“C’MON GUYS!”) If you have a Garmin, who needs that?

But I had a bit of an epiphany at Riverside 20. If I tucked in just behind the pacer group, I could stop obsessively looking at my watch and monitoring my speed, relax into it and just really feel the run, without having to worry about tripping over anyone’s heels or getting shouted at by some well-meaning, motivational sadist who is clearly cruising round at a speed that’s enough to make me breathless. I say this as someone who enjoys being a pacer, but as a pacee, this will never not be a bit irritating.

So that’s what I did. I tucked in behind the 8-minute mile group and just… sat there. For 18 miles. Having a lovely time and admiring all the gorgeous riverside views around Richmond and Ham House. And it felt absolutely fine. To the point where, with a mile and a half to go, I felt like I had enough left in the tank for a final surge. A couple of others had the same idea, but I managed to leave most of the group who’d paced me all the way round behind, ran my last mile in 7’25 after pretty even splits up to that, and finished in 2’38’45 (PB!) at an average pace of 7’51 per mile.

It feels perhaps foolhardy to nail my colours to the mast, in public, this far out. But suddenly that gold target sub-3’30 doesn’t seem so outlandish. I now know I can sustain 8-minute miles for 20 miles. The question is, can I sustain it for 26.2, on what will likely be a hotter day, in a way more congested field, and knowing my hay fever will have kicked in and will be affecting me by that point?

PAIN IS INEVITABLE…

Written by Phil Cairns

My fellow ballot-winner Babs and I seem to be weirdly in sync. Two weeks ago we both reported brushes with fame. This week… foreign travel adventures. Babs back home in Portugal for the Lisbon Half Marathon, me in Lanzarote for some ‘warm weather training’ (this makes me sound way more professional than I actually am).

The Lanzarote trip was a last-minute thing when another planned holiday fell through. I felt a bit desperate for a getaway but didn’t want to lose a week of training. (Again, this makes me sound far more professional, etc…) So I decided to take myself off to Lanzarote and make the running the cornerstone of the trip. Every couple of years, London Marathon seems to produce a freakishly hot spring day, so I figured it would be worth reminding myself what running in heat feels like.

I wasn’t sure how to approach it. I wanted to use the time to push myself a bit, without pushing myself so much that I broke. I figured speed work would not be loads of fun in the heat. I’ve recently read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami, in which he advocates running every day. I’ve never been a fan of this approach. Former work colleagues of mine were behind the RED (Run Every Day) January initiative that started a few years ago, and I always thought it was a bit sus, and a gateway to injury. But there was something about the way Murakami talked about it that made it sound appealing in a meditative kind of way, the discipline of running a medium distance, c. 6-8 miles, for an hour-ish every day.

I didn’t connect with Murakami’s book the way I’ve heard other runners rave about it. But I did love this mantra: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” The mindful idea that if you’re going to run 26.2 miles, you’re going to be in pain. The bit you can choose is how you respond to it. Love that.

The mantra that’s stayed with me most before now was something Kieran Santry said to me the day before I ran my first marathon, Dublin in 2013: “Don’t be a hero in the first half. Don’t be a wimp in the second half.” Pretty good, right?

It takes a lot to out-wisdom Santry. Close thing, but I think Murakami might just have the edge.

Anyone else have any favourite mantras that get them through marathons?

I almost managed the running every day thing. Here’s a brief Lanzarote running diary:

Day 1 – 5 miles: 

Oh. My God. It’s so hot. I’m so unused to this. Have I actually become a cold weather runner over the course of training for a spring marathon for the first time? Who even am I now?

Day 2 – 10 miles: 

I got up earlier for this one. It made a big difference getting it done before the day really hotted up. Gorgeous out-and-back from Las Coloradas through Playa Blanca and beyond, all along the coast. God, I love running by the sea.

Day 3 – 5 miles, including some hills:

Oh. My. God. It’s so hot. And this feels so hard. While I know London is relatively flat, I really haven’t done enough hills in this training cycle. But it was also an exploratory run, to see what lay atop and beyond the cliffs just the other side of my hotel. Found the most gorgeous, sparsely congregated beach in a cove between two cliffs. Definitely coming back here for some sun and sea swimming before trip end. 

Day 5 – 16 miles:

I decided to go big. Found a circular trail route on AllTrails that looked doable, up to La Hoya and back through Los Charcones. First half alongside some of the imposing volcanic hills, second half around the coastline. Safe to say I wasn’t quite prepared for this. Wore the wrong shoes, didn’t factor in the miles to get to and from the start/finish point, which meant I had to cut a chunk of the gorgeous coastline off in order not to turn it into a much longer run, and forgot that I am a hopeless navigator so managed to go off piste a couple of times. Still highly enjoyable after weeks of running round west London, but more challenging than anticipated.

Day 6 – 4 miles:

Well I said I was going to run every day, so while I would normally have a rest day after a 16-miler, here goes… Ouch. Even a gentle out and back along the seafront was enough to make my knees creak and remind me of the value of regular rest days.

Day 7 – rest day: 

Phew.

Day 8 – 5 miles:

OK, change of scene as I’d swapped Playa Blanca for Arrecife by this point. Last run of the trip, another gorgeous out and back along a different seafront.

And that’s a wrap. 45 miles across 7 runs in 8 days. Given I rarely run more than 35 miles across 4 runs in a week, that felt like mission accomplished.

Now I just need to readjust back to the cold of west London for the next few weeks…

ANYTHING BABS CAN DO…

Written by Phil Cairns

So my fellow ballot-winner Babs had a brush with fame this week, did she? Well, not that I’m competitive or anything. But two can play that game…

I volunteered at Acton Junior Park Run on Sunday. At the end, our West 4-affiliated run director said, “Are you doing our race?” and shoved a flyer for Thames Towpath 10 into my hand.

“Err, not sure yet…” I got halfway through saying before something on said flyer caught my eye.

Hang on, who’s that chap with the pained expression?

First time I’ve been a poster boy. For anything. And not even consulted. Do we have any image rights lawyers in the club? Perhaps a class action lawsuit as the image is comprised half of Eagles!

So. Shit is getting serious. This Sunday will be 8 weeks to London Marathon day. And this is blog post 4. So I’m officially at the midpoint. I paid my entry fee and registered for my place at the Marathon last week. I also entered Riverside 20 on March 23 as a tune-up race. (Anyone else doing this? I’ve set up a Facebook event, so make yourself known if so). I’ve never done a 20-mile race before, so at least I’ll have the satisfaction of one PB this year.

Training is still going steadily, albeit I probably need to be doing more tempo runs. I did my first 20-mile training run last weekend. I figure that’s probably the hardest run I’ll do in this training cycle as it’s the furthest I’ve run in 18 months, and my other 20-miler will be Riverside 20. So at least I’ll already have that distance under my belt, and I think it’ll feel easier doing it in a race environment with other runners, even if I am pushing myself harder. Running 20 miles on your own is just never not a slog…

Onwards. And hopefully upwards.

CELEB SPOT

Written by Phil Cairns

How do people write daily newspaper columns? Coming up with something to write fortnightly for these blog posts makes me feel entirely bereft of imagination! Fortunately, there were a couple of things of note this fortnight. Including an actual celeb sighting on my long run at the weekend. More on that later. 

Training is still going ok. Apart from some mildly painful hard, callusy bits of skin on the inside of both big toes, I’m injury and niggle-free. I’m enjoying the mileage more than I thought could be possible over the winter months. And I’m also enjoying going to more club sessions than I normally would at this time of year, particularly Tuesday’s Osterley track sessions. It’s making me feel very grateful for the Eagles community and the coaches who give their time to run these sessions.

I had my first inkling of those track sessions starting to pay off last week, when I decided to run to Battersea Park Run, partly as my nephew lives in the area and is a regular, so it was a good excuse to have breakfast with him. It was my first time at Battersea Park Run, and I have a mixed relationship with the Park. I love running there, always enjoy the Summer League fixture. But I also got my 10k PB there at a RunThrough event which turned out to be a short course, which stung somewhat. 

I’d seen the high numbers attending (1000+ every week apart from their debut and the Christmas events) so was expecting mad congestion. But because the paths are so wide, it thins out pretty quickly. Even if you start too far back (as I invariably manage to), you don’t stay boxed in for long. I managed 22’33, which was my quickest in a while. (Smug feeling didn’t last long as my Clapham Chaser nephew managed a PB of 16’49). Hard recommend for those that haven’t been yet. Looking forward to returning. And with a few more track sessions under my belt, I should definitely be able to make up that 6 minutes to beat my nephew next time, right?

At the risk of my blog posts acquiring a theme of bodily excretions, I also overheard the following conversation from a guy behind me on the way to the start:

“Have I ever told you my London Marathon story? I was running along, and suddenly felt this warm patch on my back. I turned round and some f**ker was pissing up my back!”

WHAT?!

Where? Why? How? What did you say/do? Is pissing on a fellow runner grounds for disqualification? So many questions! All of which I was too gobsmacked to ask.

This weekend just gone I did my longest run of this training cycle so far – 18 miles. I’ve run along the canal as far as Regents Park a few times, but I figured I’d extend that route and carry on through Camden and up to Kings Cross, before dropping down into Bloomsbury, across to Fitzrovia, then around Hyde Park before heading back through Notting Hill, Holland Park and Shepherds Bush. Really enjoyed it. I was worried about congestion around Camden Market, but actually it was the next, narrower stretch up to Kings Cross that was trickier. Perhaps it was quieter than usual because of the rain. I noticed another Eagle, Jack Spencer, posted on Babs’ weekly Run Corner post that he’d continued all the way along to the Olympic Park. Food for thought for my next long run.

Anyway, it was on this run along the canal that I spotted my celebrity in the wild. Boaty McBoatface. (This is definitely him, right?)

PIGS IN THE PARK!!

Written by Phil Cairns

I imagine interest in the minutiae of my training is going to be limited, so I’m approaching these blog posts with an eye on anything unusual I notice while running, that might make for a vaguely entertaining thing to write about. If anyone is interested in my training, a) please get out more, and b) I’ll sandwich some stuff about how training is going between a couple of more random observations.

Firstly… PIGS IN THE PARK!!

I had a gap in the middle of my workday last Wednesday, so went for a lunchtime run around Gunnersbury Park, and was very surprised to bump into these two porkers! When did they arrive?

This got me thinking about unusual animal appearances on runs. Seeing deer in Richmond Park isn’t exactly unusual, but it can still be pretty unexpected / scary when you round a corner of one of the trailier sections and find one smack bang in the middle of the path blocking your way.

Not running related, but I was quite thrown when I was cycling to work last year and a kamikaze squirrel charged across the road and straight into my back wheel, bouncing off the spokes before continuing seemingly undeterred on its way. (When I got into work, I relayed this story to the receptionist, a more intrepid cyclist than me, who told me about the time she was bike camping in Canada and got chased by a moose. I felt a bit crushed).

But one of my most indelible Eagles images was on a Wednesday night club run seeing Yvonne Linney, who’d been running a little ahead of me, walk back into Maytrees Rest Garden carrying a gorgeous beast of a cat. It transpired her cat had gone missing a few weeks earlier and she’d run into it, casually roaming around by the bridge over the railway line. Quite a moving reunion for a Wednesday night club run!

Anyway, training. It’s going ok, thanks. I’m up to 4 runs and 30-35 miles a week, which I won’t go much higher than. Small beer for the P&D aficionados I realise, but I’ve learned that I’m more likely to avoid injury and/or utterly lose any enjoyment in the whole enterprise if I stick to that sort of mileage. I don’t follow a plan as such, but 30-40 miles p/w spread over 4 runs – 1 long, 1 tempo, 1 recovery and 1 track/intervals/hills session – is usually enough to get me to the start line injury-free and enthusiastic. The main objective for me over the next two months will be to increase the distance of the long runs and the speed of the tempo runs.

My longest run so far was 16 miles, to and from Osterley Park Run. I enjoy breaking up long runs like this as it can get me to Park Runs I haven’t tried before, and it feels like you’re getting three workouts in one – a long run, a quicker 5k, and then a more fatigued run home for stamina-building.

I queued up to get my barcode scanned by a guy who’d run it then jumped onto scanning duty. Fair to say he hadn’t quite recovered yet. As I got to him, he asked me to hold on a sec, picked up one of his gloves off the floor, and blew his streaming nose very wholeheartedly into his glove. And this wasn’t even like a soft, absorbent or wicking running glove, this was like a structured ski mitt, that I imagine was just going to hold the contents of his nose for the foreseeable. 

“It’s what gloves were made for, right?” he said as he scanned my barcode.

“NO!!” screamed every fibre of my being as I nodded and grinned.

I know, I know, all hail the volunteers, etc… But c’mon, dude. Gross!

Fundamentally, a wimp

Written by Phil Cairns

Happy ballot winners photobombed by social sec!

“You got a ballot place!!”

I had an inkling this was going to happen.

It’s been a long road getting here. 13 unsuccessful attempts at the London Marathon ballot, plus a handful of similarly fruitless entries into the Eagles club ballot. I’d begun to think London Marathon wasn’t destined to happen for me. But as soon as I realised I had a clash and wasn’t going to be able to make the Eagles Christmas party to be present for the draw, I thought, ‘Well of course this will be the year my name gets pulled out.’

So when Liz Ainsworth’s excitable WhatsApp message arrived, it prompted a wry smile. Followed by a massive, excitable grin. Maybe even a fist pump. FINALLY!!! 

But hot on the heels of my initial elation arrived a little chill of trepidation, as I contemplated what this actually meant.

London will be my eighth marathon. See if you can spot the pattern: Dublin - Loch Ness - Marine Corps Marathon (Washington DC) - San Sebastian – Berlin – Florence – Yorkshire.

Got it yet?

That’s right. They’re all autumn marathons.

This didn’t happen by design. I signed up for some of these because they were places I wanted to visit; some because I liked the look of the race; and some because other Eagles were going and I thought it would be a fun weekend away.

But at a certain point, I became conscious a pattern had emerged and reflected on why. The answer was pretty clear:

Fundamentally, I am a massive wimp.

I’m a fair-weather runner. I like training over the warmer summer months for a nice, cool autumn marathon.

It’s the reason this Eagle goes into semi-hibernation over the winter, opting for runs that start and finish at my front door, rather than travelling to club runs and waiting around in the cold till they start. It’s the reason I only tend to grace the early season cross-country fixtures, when it’s still possible to get a tan on Wormwood Scrubs. And it’s the reason I’ve never entered a spring marathon.

This strategy hasn’t always been plain sailing. Berlin in 2018 was a challenge, the earliest of the autumn marathons I’ve raced, and off the back of that crazy heatwave summer when temperatures barely dipped below 30° in July and August while I was attempting the hard yards of training. (Perhaps it’s no coincidence that Berlin is the only marathon I’ve truly hit the wall in, walking stretches of mile 25. The difficulty of training in such balmy temps meant I perhaps went into it undercooked).

But for the most part, summer training for autumn marathons has served me well, and my only motivation for changing that was the thought of finally ticking off my hometown marathon.

Nonetheless I woke up on December 9th, the Monday morning after the Christmas party, feeling a tingle of excitement. After not running a marathon in 2024 as I’d been focusing on other life stuff, and having just emerged from a heavy cold which prevented any running for three weeks, I felt excited to get going. 

BBC 6 Music breakfast show was on as I was having my morning coffee, and they were soliciting contributions to their regular People’s Pinboard feature, where listeners can send in titbits of news - new jobs, marriages, babies, new enterprises of any description – to be read out and celebrated on air. ‘What better way to thank the Eagles and announce the commencement of training?’ I thought, and fired off a WhatsApp message host Nick Grimshaw duly read out:

“Hi to Phil, and congratulations to Phil in Acton as well, who just won a ballot place in the 2025 London Marathon in my running club Ealing Eagles Christmas party this weekend. So today is day 1 of marathon training. Wish me luck!

“Good luck, Phil, you can do it if anyone can,” Grimshaw exhorted, before adding: “Perfect timing to start marathon training, 3 degrees or whatever it is.”

Well, exactly.