8 months into year 1

About this time last year, my brother set out to train for a marathon, and asked was I interested. I was, but I'm a bit of a yes man, not always great on the follow-through aspect of things. The date was set for September in Kilkenny, he was training away, I was you know, not quite training. I didn't have zero base, playing football a couple of times a week, but also carrying a bit of weight, 38, and always having convinced myself that I needed team sport for motivation. It wasn't until the last week in April that I actually started to run.

The ramp up on mileage was slow only doing around 60-70kms a month in May and June, and I knew August wasn't going to be ideal with travel, so at least in July I began to take it seriously and average around 45km a week. As expected, couldn't really get any running done in the first two weeks of August but finished the month with decent adherence to the initial training plan. Taper then at the start of September for the Medieval Marathon on the 13th. Funny first marathon, around 300 runners, but still felt a big deal to me, and was a hugely positive experience and couldn't fault the setup. Hilly auld route, and given my lack of overall mileage the legs were probably more than a little undercooked, last 12km or so was a fairly painful - but got around 04:23:41, crossed the line together, but in all truth there could have been 30 minutes or more between us if we got seperated at any earlier point, he'd have finished it 15 minutes quicker and me 15 minutes slower - great though, and on to the next, again the brother pushed it further - set his sights on Florence in Late November.

Second block, quick turnaround, 11 weeks. Went into this with a fair bit more belief, and sort of, just general enjoyment of running at this point. October was the first month of around 200km, which is small change to seasoned runners around these parts, but lofty figures for myself. I'm also one of the people who tracks it all, and I could see run by run, the average of every single kilometre coming down, intended slow runs were now at my old 5km pace - the progress was such a major motivator. I didn't mention it but joint pain, particularly my hip on the right side had been a reasonable issue in the first block, and was the first to go on the KK marathon, particularly on the hilly course - but as I upped the mileage, it just subsided altogether, lucky. Got around to race day, the brother sets a goal of sub-4, and to be honest I thought that seemed fair, I knew he had trained for it, my feeling was I had too.

The trip to Florence comes around, the usual ungodly travel for anyone living outside of Dublin getting an early flight. Something sort of weird goes on though, on the Saturday I sort of drink less and maybe eat about the same or less than I would a normal day, let alone the day before a marathon, a little bit of foreshadowing. The expo is cool, my first of those, don't spend a huge amount of time there all the same. Marathon morning, and I get up early enough to drink my 500ml bottle of water and eat a banana, plenty I says. Couple of hours later we meet at our starting pen, it's cold at this hour of the morning close on zero but it will get up to around 10 degrees by mid morning. Race starts perfectly, crowds are amazing, other runners are amazing, certainly delivered more than I could have hoped for by a massive margin. First 20 flys by, bang on pace for sneaking in sub-4, and we're together both feeling good. I will say it was always made very clear by me that he would not slow for me, we would only run together as long as I wasn't holding him back from his time that he absolutely had trained for. Anyway, quickly after 20/25 my race takes a sort of nosedive, and thankfully he continues to execute his run, best for everyone. It's the hang on for dear life portion of the run, and I really did try. I know heart rate zones fed to us by coros/strava need to be taken with a pinch of salt but for what it's worth mine have always seemed close enough if not exact. I spend maybe, km 20 up until km 25 in Z4, and then 25 until 34 in Z5, not sustainable. I end up with a mix of walk/jog through the next 2 hydration zones, where the penny drops that I've took on **** all water, I've been taking my gels, I've been sucking on lemons, but I've had about 4 mouthfuls of water until this point, hands tingly, vision getting a bit funky - but whether it's coping or the truth I get the water into me, call my wife, tell her I'll be a while but I'm grand. The crowd are the only thing keeping me going, I've stopped looking at the watch altogether, and I'm just soaking it in, and what a spectacle it is to soak in. The water does its job and I'm able to run the last few kms, slowly, but I'm basically just elated to be back running after the dark times. Get home in a comedic 04:23:07, missing my target by 23 minutes but beating my try in KK by 34 seconds - I was fairly happy that I hung onto the target pace for 30km considering the balls I had made of it. The brother hit the target 03:57ish, amazing effort, I could live vicariously through his victory.

So, now what? We booked Barcelona in March, and my home marathon in Waterford for June, I've also separately decided to sneak in Prague in the middle of those two. Caught the bug, but delighted, I'm sure I'll rein in the expensive destination marathons, but for now they've been a brilliant source of drive - I wasn't too disappointed to miss the mark in Florence, I will be in Barcelona, sub-4 is required and no good reason that I won't manage it, haven't though about goals past that yet. So far, so good.