27 October : Marathon Eyryri

I love it when a plan comes off! 3:19:03, and 70th place - the figures came in bang on target. But of course that's very far from the whole story so I'd better go back to the beginning:

The six o'clock alarm was a bit of a jolt, but we were off and out by 7:15, into a pleasantly warm, breezy morning. The weather looked harmless still as we drove along the North Wales Coast, and the northern tops of the Carneddau were even clear. Turning down towards Llanberis though, white and grey cloud spilled over the hilltops and it was pretty clear that there wouldn't be a meteorological miracle today!

Everything went well at registration, and after taking the dogs for a quick exploration of the woods, it was time to set off on the walk up to Nant Peris. The organisers lay on buses, but it's less than two miles to the start and the walk does as a warm-up. Running is such a glamorous sport, I thought, as I walked up the valley wearing my knotted bin-bag. There was a headwind, but no rain yet, and the bin-bag came off as soon as I reached the starting pen. Five rows back, left hand side - all as planned.

The man with the hooter set us off about 6 minutes after 10:30 (it's crazy how many people can be late!), and about 1200 of us shuffled out under the banner and over the mats before making the 180 turn out onto the road. The first mile was too quick of course - it's flat after all but I soon got into the groove and watched as maybe 150 runners streamed past. Past the pub, where there were plenty of spectators, the first hint of a climb begins, and it wasn't long before the road began to get steeper. I dropped a gear or two and a few more came by, but there are 2.5 miles and 800' to go to Pen y Pass so no need to panic just yet! As the road steepened, so the early enthusiasm waned for the runners around me, and soon the places were coming back again. The climbing was just hard enough, and by the top, I was ready enough to take on some water. Part one done then, and although a bit slower than I'd reckoned on, I'd rather be too slow than too quick at this stage!

The wind had been blowing against us more and more often as we had climbed, and making the turn around the head of the pass, it was strong on our backs - bad news for the 8 miles south to Beddgelert! A few grumpy walkers, denied road access past Pen y Gwyryd, tramped up the road: you can always tell a walker - they hate walking too far! Still, the view was still there, all the way down the Vale of Gwynant, and as I turned to the south I could see streams of runners coming down from the pass - the road taken over by people in short pants and vests while the traffic waited for a change.

So, Part Two had begun - Control, Control, Control. That was the word I needed. The word I didn't need was Pain - but remember Phantom Sore Calf Muscle? Well, maybe it wasn't so phantom after all. It had started giving me jip from about the third mile and was now on fire. I thought about exit strategies - no phone signals after Beddgelert - but would I even get there? I decided I'd have to run at least a quarter of the marathon. More enthusiatic runners came flying past me - all the way down to Nant Gwynant. More pain - then I thought about all those long midweek runs - the ones I'd done with Helen when the race seemed so far away - the mad evening runs with the club sessions sandwiched in the middle - and the long solo efforts nearer the race. No, I wasn't going to chuck that away until my leg actually fell off! I got a gel down and hoped for the best.

At about 8.5 miles, I reached the next water station. I'd averaged about 7:35 pace overall. It was about here that Sore Calf Muscle gave up the ghost and became happier. Magically, I didn't drop the pace as the road flattened, and runners started slowing in front of me. I passed the first one, wondering if it was going to be alright after all. A guy from Blackburn, the bloke in the dayglo shorts, then small groups - all going backwards, and me not. At about 10 miles, I noticed the grey sky ahead. Rain. Just to cheer us up, there were 3 girls dressed as nuns by the roadside. Now it's got to be my day!

The next thing I remember is the rain falling as we came into Beddgelert. It hadn't put the locals off though, and the streets were full of people. Another water station (all brilliantly organised I must say with the volunteers shouting out the contents of the cups they were holding). I tried running with the drink for the first and last time - much better to walk a few paces and get it down your throat instead of down your vest!

Now for the dreaded stage three - the long road to Waun Fawr. The hill kicks in as soon as you turn the corner in the village and everyone slows. Drop a gear, Concentrate. I tried to ignore the struggling runners up ahead, and the insistent footsteps behind me as the gradient steepened. Half a mile further on, I'd passed lots of runners - but the footsteps were still there. They belonged to a guy from Salford running his first marathon. We stayed together for the next seven miles. We were doing fine, 7:30 pace up the two-mile climb, passing and passing - the only other person that kept up was a guy on a bike who told us the pace. My new friend told me he loved uphill, hated downhill, and I did lose him for a while over the top of the climb, but he caught me again. I took on drinks at all the stations, and the miles flew by - despite a minor collision involving me and a 4X4 towing a caravan! My elbow made a satisfying thump as it hit the wing mirror.

We reached 20 miles in 2:30, just a bit quicker than the plan for a PB, but I was feeling so strong now I was sure it was going to happen. A sore quadricep, some blisters, and a nagging doubt about that last hill was all that was going to derail me now. Even so, the overtaking was giving me masses of confidence. One guy in front said to another: "make room for the freight train". I felt more like an elderly Brabant but I'll take any encouragement going! My new friend left me at mile 20 - he said he was going to give it a blast as he wasn't sure if he could run much further! I acquired a new one though, a lad called Graham who worked hard to pass me - I tagged him as soon as he came by though and we got to Waun Fawr together.

Onto Part 4 - the climb. Wind it Up - rhythm, drop a gear - and have a chat, why not?! Two lasses shouted "come on Graham!" as we began the hard work. "Is your name Graham?" asked Graham. "No", I said. "I wonder how they knew mine was?" he said, puzzled. No time to work it out, though, as I took on my last drink and went to my lowest gear. It felt so slow! It was Graham's first Snowdonia, and he asked abut the climb. I was so glad I'd memorised everything - just a mile and a half and 600', then the same distance and 200'. Even though it felt so slow, I was still gaining places - lots of them - everyone else was slower, or walking, or walk-running. We disappeared into the fog. Nothing to think about but the slap-slap-slap of trainers on road. Graham disappeared backwards into the gloom. And then - right on queue, the tarmac ran out, the road levelled, and I was up on the windy heights heading for Bwlch y Groes. The rain was getting heavier, the wind strong and blustery, but mostly on my back. On the track, I passed yet more runners. It's amazing how they were so encouraging and found some breath to spur me on. The top of the pass came unbelievably quickly - I knew I was on for 3:20 or less if I could run the descent well.

And yes, it was great. Arms windmilling, legs at full stretch, I hurtled down - it's not really that loose and there's some useful grass to absorb the impact on the first half - curious about speed, I found I'd reached sub-5 minute pace on the steepest parts. Landing at the bottom was hell last year - but this year it was round the corner, kick off up the hill into the village, and catch the next guy. On the corner, three small lads held their hands out for High Fives - and they got them!

So to the last part. This last mile is odd - there was no-one in sight now, and althogh I knew I was on the right road, I was still glad to find the marshall at the road junction. This is it now - one swoop down to the road, past the Mountain Railway, and finish.

Paula was waiting on the roadside as I came down, doing all sorts of embarrassing things like clapping and waving and punching the air - not because I'd come anywhere near winning anything or even being all that good a runner - but just because it had been such a fantastic 3 hours and 19 minutes.

Past the finish line, I collected my treasured coaster, waited for Graham to finish about a minute after me, then got that fantastic cup of tea in the tent. It was throwing it down with rain, and the tent began to fill up. My brain was functioning at a reduced level - but what a wonderful feeling. Not just to have finished, but to have somehow distilled all the fun, hard work, good company, hopes, goodwill from so many people, into something wonderful and worthwhile. A marathon. A small thing in the context of almost anything, but worth having nevertheless. An old man came up and talked about Ron Hill - I said I'd beaten him in a race once - and we both laughed.

The Snowdonia Marathon is a great race - a challenge, a thing of beauty, an embrace between friends and strangers, a glorious sum of so many inelegant, sweaty, bin-bag clad parts - but it is only a race, and I guessed Paula and the dogs had waited long enough to start their day. We went off to the Bryn Twrch for some great soup and even better beer, then headed off to sunny Llandudno for a walk on the beach underneath the magical Welsh sky.

26 October: Calm before the Storm

Right, that's it. No more weather forecasts! I never really pay much attention to them until it's nearly time to do whatever it is I'm doing anyway, but it's been interesting to record them, if only to show how unreliable they can be! Looks like some windy (from the SW) and showery conditions to start, degenerating in the afternoon, so I'd better not hang about too much on the first half.

My body seems to be playing ball a bit more than it has done over recent days too. Even though I know it will do it, if not why, it still annoys me that it develops all of these phantom afflictions.

Last thoughts before I go and pack my kit are:

• I've trained for it
• I'm fit, and ready
• If anyone should get on OK in rain and wind, it should be me
• I like rough, wet descents
• The worst that should happen is that I don't finish, or finish in a ridiculously long amount of time. Hardly cause for a week of national mourning, whatever.

Check in later on in the weekend for the results!

• I will smile.

26 October: Yr Wyddfa

Snowdon gets a lot of bad press. From hillwalkers especially - but mostly from the kind of hillwalker with romantic notions, who spends the week dreaming of themselves wandering lonely as a pumpkin, then get to Pen y Pass at the crack of noon on a Bank Holiday Sunday, climb the hill by one of its shortest routes, and wonder why it's busy. There will be complaints about too many people, the railway, and the cafe.


Especially the cafe. The old "Snowdon Hotel" was, it's true, a pretty ugly lump and it's now been demolished, with a modern glass-fronted building costing something like £10million being build to replace it. Snowdon is a big mountain, and it's pretty easy to avoid it if you don't like it - and it does help make the summit slightly less crowded than it would be otherwise.

If I have mixed feelings about the cafe, I don't about the railway. It's great, isn't it? The Swiss have them in the Alps, and here's Wales with its very own brilliant piece of transport engineering. True, it all went tits up the first time they tried to get a train up it, but it's done pretty well since, and I like the friendly little trains, heard or seen from all sorts of places especially on the western flanks of the mountain. From the east, you'd hardly know it existed.

It's busy on Snowdon - well, yes, naturally. It's not busy all the time though, and all it takes is a willingness to get out of bed a bit earlier than usual and even on a sunny bank holiday weekend you can park, climb the hill in relative peace and quiet, and get to the pub before everyone else at the end of the day.

There are some great routes too - from Gwynant, you can climb Yr Aran and follow the south ridge to the summit. We did that a bone-chilling day in December once, with snow above 2000' - it was so windy on the summit it was hard to stand up yet just around the corner it was fine. From Llanberis, you can climb Moel Eilio via the very same pass that the marathon uses - then continue over the long grassy ridges of Foel Grons, Foel Goch and Moel Cynghorion to reach the cliffs of Cloggy and eventually the summit via the last stages of the Ranger path. Back to Llanberis over the cliffs of Llechog is a much better way than the pitched path. It's a long route, and one we did on an April day so warm it could have been August. We met hundreds of people between the Ranger and Llanberis paths, but less than a dozen on the rest of the walk.

Even the popular routes on the east side, the Pyg and Miners' tracks, are full of interest and great mountain scenery - but nothing can beat the classic horseshoe over Crib Goch, Crib y Ddysgl, Yr Wyddfa and Lliwedd. Crib Goch is I think even better if you use the quiet north ridge to reach the knife-edge summit, and not difficult at all if you can cope with the exposure. It can be a bit trickier to find the easiest way over the pinnacles and up Crib y Ddysgl, but whatever happens don't miss out Lliwedd as most people seem to - it's a great place to be on a lazy summer afternoon. I've enjoyed great conditions on Crib Goch (usually I don't like to be up there if it's bad!) - but the weirdest time was definitely on our Welsh 3000s trip in 2006. We set off at 4am to climb Snowdon - it was throwing it down and literally blowing a gale (3 out of our team of four got blown over yards from the summit of Snowdon as we set off towards Crib y Ddysgl) - and just as we were contemplating an early exit via Bwlch Coch, it all suddenly stopped, just past the pinnacles. We crossed the knife-edge in complete calm and dry, with just fog swirling around us, befoer exiting down the North Ridge, and back into the maelstrom. Perhaps there is a God, after all!

None of these delights are are on the menu for tomorrow of course - but in wind and rain, I'll still be able to imagine the hills above and draw on the energy they give me every time I set out on them to make it a better day.

25 October: From Misery to Happiness Today

Today's update: Weather outlook: slight improvment, with a first pulse of rain due to move through in the the early hours and the second not due until evening. Aches/pains: left calf still complaining.

My run today wouldn't even be worthy of a mention had it not been the least comfortable 3 miles I can remember running for months. Tired, achey and fed up just about sums up how I feel at the end of it.

So, it comes as something of a relief to get an artificial injection of energy courtesy of Craig and Charlie Reid, the Proclaimers, at Llandudno in the evening. Crazily, it's the first time I've set foot in Wales since the Spring. Sadly, there's a support act - some misguided up-themselves youths who haven't got a good song or musician amongst them. The audience go crazy and applaud everything wildly, and I begin to wish I was as drunk as everyone else seems to be. At 9 o'clock, though, the least-up-themselves-band-in-the-whole-wide-world come on stage and deliver a cracking set filled with testosterone, strong scottish accents, political ranting and big glasses. God knows how they get percieved as some sort of cuddly novelty act with strange accents - Rolf Harris they are not. The North Wales theatre is a great venue, but a bit incongruous for the energetic show tonight. Last time we saw the band it was in the village hall in Portree on Skye, full of kids out of their minds on cheap cider, and it was a top night out. Even with the posh seats, it's still good tonight and a reminded that energy is not such a scarce commodity when you put your mind to it.

I've only got one part of the race left to think about now - the part where runners are dumped at the bottom of the big hill, past the turn for the Llanberis route up Snowdon. There will be no sprint finish. There may barely be a finish at all - it's just over a mile to the line, and it will, come what may, be painful. But, it will be a Celebration. It will probably be pissing it down, but I'm going to make sure I forget about everything except enjoying the countdown to the line. I'm on my way, oh yes.

24 October: Busy Doing Nothing

Today's phantom afflictations: pretendy cold; sore left calf muscle. Actually the sore calf is real. Not life-threatening though. Weather forecast for Saturday: heavy rain.

It's a lovely day again, which makes it all the more annoying that the weekend is going to bring the first serious weather front for weeks. It's the same for everyone though. Although I take the usual bike ride to work and back, I decide not to do anything else. I feel tired and in need of sleep so spend a lazy evening doing very little after a slow day at work.

All the more time to ponder the most dreaded part of the race : not dreaded by me, I have to say, but by most. At about 21 miles, we reach the friendly village of Waunfawr. Much friendlier than a village whose name means "large bog" has any need to be, but then they know what is coming to the runners who by rights should be looking forward to the closing stages. It's no longer a marathon, it's a five mile hill race after the world's toughest warm-up! It starts as soon as we turn off the main road - and follow lane up a steep hill. This goes on for just over a mile and a half and 600', and is followed by another mile and a half with a further 200' of up. Before it's done, the tarmac has evaporated and we're on a stony track going over the pass at Bwlch y Groes. Turn right at the top and you're on the skirts of Moel Eilio, part of a fine long ridge walk from Llanberis to Snowdon and vastly preferable to the fast pitched path that almost everyone uses to get between the two. However, we're not going up Snowdon, or even Moel Eilio today. No, we're going to descend 900' in just over a mile. To start with, it's still a stony track, and therefore fast and fun to run - after that, there's a tarmac section which is dangerously fast on tired legs.

The key to getting up the hill is going to be to Wind it Up. An immediate change of gear, before lactic strangulation, is the only way it's going to be possible to run up all the way- get it wrong and it's a mandatory walk. Even at the slowest possible pace, anyone that runs the hill has a big advantage over 90% of the field, so running at any speed is all that is needed. Down the other side, it's time to Let Yourself Go - you're racing mostly road-runners so it's really easy to make up a lot of places by picking a fast line and avoiding the slower runners in front. All of which leads up to the hardest mile of all - after all that winding up and letting go, there'll be barely enough left in the cupboard to run another mile - so it's a good job that is only a mile!

23 October: The warm-up!

The weather is still bright, cold and clear, with very still air. The bad news is that the outlook for the weekend has suddenly changed: warmer, wet, and windy is now the latest forecast for Saturday. Still, as it helpfully says inside my new running jacket (from the wonderful Howies) - "Rain is not the enemy". Although it can get on your nerves a bit after 3 hours or so.

Today's phantom injuries and afflictions include my ongoing mock-cold, a pain in my right foot and a sore finger - both of these seem to have been acquired during the night and if it goes on like this I'll start believing that Fungus the Bogeman is real.

Having not run at all over the weekend, it's time to go and find my mojo again. Tonight's club session is intervals at Gadbrook Park, 5x1500m, which at first glance doesn't seem all that suitable with only 4 days to go before the race, but I want to do something reasonably sharp and it's so much easier to run with the group than to plod out into the darkness alone.

I run the first rep on the watch keeping strictly at half-marathon pace, and as it turns out Sophie is running at the exact same pace. She does a really good session, each rep at the same steady pace - although I do forget how much work she is putting on and start talking to her at one point. It turns out to be a really good boost to my confidence, as this pace feels very easy indeed compared to the intervals I have been running, and I won't even need to put in this much effort in the early stages on Saturday (it will be harder later on!). Mary kindly presents me with half a dozen eggs afterwards - I love omelettes so I'll definitely have those cooked up for tea on Saturday night!

I now have to confront the part of the race which is going to be the crux of the thing on Saturday. The 9 miles from Beddgelert to Waunfawr are going to be tough. It'll be about Concentrating on the Job. It will also mean being ready for the climb out of Beddgelert. It's hardly steep, in fact nowhere is it a climb you'd look at and think "hill" with just about 500' in just over 2 miles. But it will come as a shock to the system.

After mile 14, the road undulates again, losing a couple of hundred feet altogether, and the landscape opens up - we're between the southern slopes of Snowdon and the long ridge of Nantlle, with Mynydd Mawr a big separate hump on our left, past Lyn Cwellyn. Leading up to it, we have the Rhydd Du railway to keep us company on the other side of the road, and pass the carparks for the popular routes up the gentler western slopes of Snowdon. Miles tick by slowly here, and strength of will is the only thing that will keep me positive. The big test is yet to come, but it would be so easy to lose heart and slow on these endless, back-of-beyond miles. The aim is to arrive at the bottom of the big hill with something left, but not too much, as it really is only one hill to run before the finish, and while places are cheap within the last six miles, time isn't.

22 October: ...and rest

A third day without running: a cold one too, damp and foggy - the weather prognosis is still good though. As usual, my body is playing tricks on me, with a nearly-cold, an insistence on feeling sleepy, and a headache today. The legs never lie though, and for the first time in weeks there's no tiredness in the muscles. I practice not forcing anything on the bike ride to work and back.

Now I need to think about the second part of the race: mile 3.5 to 12 - Pen y Pass to Beddgelert. This is going to be all about Control - a bit like an early-hours pee, it's going to be easy to lose concentration and direction on the first four miles of the descent, start feeling a bit too overjoyed about an early resolution, and get left with a lot of clearing up to do lower down.

On the other hand it can't all be about holding back: I'm going to need to get back some of the time lost on a slow start. Half marathon pace should be about right. This is also the part of the race where we start to meet traffic (the road will be closed as far as Pen y Pass) - and where race-followers start to make themselves heard. I won't have the benefit of Lindsay's poetry recitals this year either, so better concentrate on the fantastic scenery down the Vale of Gwynant - surely one of the most beautiful valleys in Wales, or anywhere.

This is where the road starts to pass through trees, a change after the bare slopes of the Glyderau and Crib Goch on the way up to Pen-y-Pass. By Llyn Gwynant, the road levels out. This is going to feel hard after nearly half an hour's descending, but it's going to be important not to let the pace drop too much. As far as Beddgelert, it's the easiest part of the course, and while I want to have plenty left for what lies ahead, I don't want to have to make up too much time on the hard road onwards.

20-21 October: Drinking Head Off, Thinking Head On

The weekend takes me to Gretna for a wedding, then to the Lakes. The wedding part involves trying not to drink too much, and the Lakes part means trying not to feel to grumpy as it's such a beautiful day to be out on the fells, and I'm not!

Now it could be said that running, and online diaries, are two of the most self-centred things it's possible to do, and that's probably true. There's nothing wrong with that, and of course it doesn't mean that someone that does either, or both, spends the rest of their life being up themselves too - so please forgive me if I don't write at any length about the happy couple, or the lovely time we had at Derwent Water - this is about running, and furthermore it's mostly about me running, selfish git that I am.

Anyway, it's now Sunday evening. There are five full days to go. I can't train any more, I can only prepare mentally and stave off frustration.

I'll let you into a secret. I'm rubbish at this mental preparation bit. I put things off, you see. My wife is always telling me that, and she's right. I'm afraid I'm going to carry on putting some things off, but I will make myself do this preparation bit for the race by writing it down here.

My usual trick is to break long runs or walks up into bits, and then imagine them being easier than they really are. This seems like a good idea, but I usually get a nasty surprise somewhere along the actual route as I've mentally obliterated some of the nasty bits. For example, I ran two mile 21s at the Windermere marathon (having forgotten I'd not done mile 20 yet the first time), I think the Corridor Route to Scafell is flat, and that it's not really uphill to Tryfan from the bottom of Bristly Ridge. This can be a bit discouraging.

So this time, I'm going to confront my demons, and properly examine the race. Let's do the demons first:

Q: What if I wake up on race day tired, feeling ill, with a nagging pain in my calf, and no desire to go out running? A: I will. I always do. It's nothing to worry about.

Q: Isn't running 26.2 miles on this course, about 45 minutes quicker than I ran it last year, going to feel really, really hard? A: Yes. Your choice, idiot.

Q: What if the weather's awful? A: You'll still have to run. Deal with it.

Q: What if my leg falls off/I collapse/I'm kidnapped by the Gwynedd Separatist Movement? A: We'll cross that bridge...

Q: What if things don't go as well as I'd planned? A: They already haven't, so what's the chance of a perfect race, and if it happened, wouldn't it be just a bit unexciting?

OK so that's those bits and pieces dealt with - now then, the course. I reckon the course naturally breaks down into five sections: 1 -the first 3.5 miles to Pen y Pass (uphill); 2 - the next 8.5 to Beddgelert (quick descent for 4, the rest flattish); 3 -the next 9 to Waunfawr (2 gently uphill, the rest undulating); 4 -the big climb and sharp descent over Bwlch y Ty Groes (4 miles); 5-the last mile and a bit to the finish.

Let's deal with them all, night by night. The first 3.5 miles is all about Getting Into the Groove. The first mile is flattish, but it is the first mile, and I never like to start a long trip too fast. There's then an 800' climb in about 2.5 miles - all on tarmac of course, and hardly at a taxing gradient, but it's still early on and it is still up. I don't really want to arrive at Pen y Pass needing that descent, I want to get there wanting it.

So, I'm going to line up near the front - don't want to lose too much gun time in reaching the start, but I'll have to be prepared to let a lot go past in that first easy mile and keep and eye on the watch - after that it's going to be about remembering to drop the gears and hold back - this isn't a climb to make up places on! Hopefully all will be well by the time I reach the first water station and I'll be able to move on to the next part completely in control.

18 October: Staving off the Blues

My "Marathon Training Guide" tells me I should have cut down to 50-70% of average mileage and busying myself with short marathon-pace runs. Well, that would be fine and dandy if I could be bothered to work out what my average mileage was, or go out for a short 7 min/mile run without feeling a bit fed up, but since neither of those two things are likely to happen it seems sensible to do the training session instead.

Amazing change in the weather over the last two days: it's actually Autumn now! Yes, all that misty, frosty, glowing morning, sun-blessed daytime and chill damp eveningtide stuff- and berries, and fruits, and hopefully Bock Bier and hot toddies and whatever to come from the evening of 27 October onwards!

Anyway, so now you've got the weather report, back to tonight's training. Another new one on me - it turns out to be belting up and down the pavement by the side of the main road by the palatial new cop-shop for 500m at a time. I actually think that belting up and down the pavement by Weaver Valley Road for 500m at a time would be better on the grounds that (a) it undulates and therefore is more interesting (b) there is less chance of getting stopped by a bored policeman (c) it's a lot nearer my house. Oh well.

I opt to run with Dave H and Mel in order to enjoy myself rather than get knackered, and very nice training partners they are too. I do feel a twinge of guilt when I see poor James running solo , but it passes, 10 times over! It's really a great boost to realise that I'm doing this at a pace that in a former life was quite hard for me to maintain, but tonight is a doddle. Dave accuses me of jogging - so that must mean I'm doing it right. We're graced by the company of big Stuart Doyle tonight - last time I saw him was after he'd just run "33 something" at Sutton, which is something I can't even dream about. We also see Matt Brown out for a steady run and he attracts a good solid burst of abuse (never a good idea to plan your steady in the vicinity of a speed session).

Altogether a thoroughly enjoyablke evening - I'm actually enjoying the holiday at the moment, getting to run short and easier, and having a good excuse to cook all my favourite pasta recipes every night. It can't last of course, and next week I've got to start "visualising" or whatever it is that means I stand a vague chance of remembering what I'm supposed to be doing and when during the race. I think it's going to be OK though, honestly. As long as I DON'T CATCH ANYTHING!

16 October: Last Blast

Raging toothache in the morning isn't the greatest way to start the day but by teatime it's pretty much sorted.

I'm still wondering whether to do the hill session come 6 o'clock but somehow or other running kit magically appears on my body and I accept the soft option of a lift to Rudheath. A gentle drizzle is falling even as we start on the shallow hill at Castle. It's not hard to guess how hard to go out on the easier set of hills: conservatively! We've split into two groups and most of my usual pacing partners are in the other group, but Dave is still suffering from his post-Italy malady so we do the first set together. A cloud of char-grilling smoke (if that's what it's called!) billows out over the street at one point but we survive the fumes.

The second set is up the steep hill - I seem to have plenty of energy tonight and I always enjoy hills anyway, so it seems reasonable to go for a blast on the 8 reps. I nearly come unstuck on the seventh as a car pulls out on me from a side-street, but otherwise I'm having a whale of a time and really enjoy the session. It's even stopped raining by the end, and with a lift back home afterwards it's seemed like an easy session.

I'm going to have to make myself not burn off too much energy on the next two sessions - it's going to be hard as the effect of not doing a long run for over a week is beginning to make itself felt: I almost feel ready to run a marathon now!

14 October: Short Long Run

Compared to a 10K race, a marathon is a long, long way to run. Most people think of travelling 26.2 miles on foot in one go as a tough ordeal, which certainly helps the 8-hour jogger/walker raise enough charity money to buy entry to the London marathon, and good luck to them too.
On the other hand, compared to a long trip out in the hills, the marathon is a relatively short and intense outing. The terrain is the easiest, the gradients relaxed, there's no need to navigate or carry much in the way of emergency equipment, and certainly no time to have lunch. With any luck, it won't even be necessary to sleep out.

I'm reminded of that today on the club run from Rudheath. It's still overcast and humid, and the opening miles at about 8 minute pace are a dawdle. Running through Carey Park, one woman stands aside to let us pass, and comments that we'd be better off saving our breath for running instead of doing all that talking. She has a good point!

Later on, running back alongside the canal, the pace steps up. After the long easy miles, it feels hard to put the pedal down. There won't be much time to take it easy in two weeks' time, and too much dawdling at the start is going to make it much harder to get to work later on in the race. The miles done over the last 9 days have caught up with me a bit, and it's harder work than usual getting home on the bike, so it's nice to have a gentle afternoon walking around Little Budworth park and a couple of pints afterwards. I think tomorrow better be a proper rest day!

13 October: What's missing?

If you've been reading carefully, you'll have noticed that I don't bother writing about short easy-paced runs. That's because I don't do them. A lot of marathon plans are based on xx mileage per week. The total miles go up nice and steadily until three weeks to go, and then come down nice and steadily. The detail is often something like "Sun: 18 miles steady; Mon: off: Tues: 7 miles easy: Weds: 5 miles tempo...."

Clearly this is rubbish and designed to suit obsessives and accountants. My life isn't like that and I'm sure most peoples' aren't. Even so, I have coveted the Perfecto Training Plan MKIII and in the past I've spent time stressing about not doing one.

My plan has always been to do the important sessions and runs well, and forget about everything else. Any spare time is far better spent resting, drinking beer, catching up with the 1001 other things in my life that don't involve running - so four easy miles isn't on the agenda. The last three months have consisted almost entirely of long runs, hill and interval sessions, and races, and lots of days not running. I'm not completely idle on a "day off", I have to get to work and back somehow and the bike is a great way of doing that - 20 minutes each way. The dogs always appreciate an outing, and of course I've still got hillwalking to fit in.

Now though, in the far-away Land of Taper, I am going to do some short runs and today is one of them. I think it's reasonable to do them at the equivalent of marathon pace (about 7min/mile on the flat) so that's what I did today - four miles in 28 minutes. I'm glad I did because I've been feeling sluggish and tired all day and I couldn't work out whether it was impending illness or just the Marston's and Bowmore I drank last night. As it turns out, it was just the drink!

It's still warm, still humid, still windless. One strange thing happens- as I'm runing across the COmmon on the way out, three teenage girls are sitting on a bench, looking at me coming towards them. I prepare for the usual hoots and Forrest Gump references, but instead one of them looks me in the eye and says "Aren't you tired?". I tell her that I'm not and go on. Twenty minutes later, I pass the same girls again. Just as I go past, one of them says "well done". It's a strange place, the Land of Taper!

11 October: Summer at Last

A lot has been said and written about our "awful" summer this year. It's not been awful! The only thing I might have a complaint about is the amount of hill fog that I've had to contend with, but I've not been weathered off once all year.

It's gone all warm and muggy on us this week, and tonight it's postively balmy down at Knight's Grange. On the run-in, I ask Dave H about the session as I've not done it before. He explains that it "might be a hill session, or maybe not". We're doing 10 reps of a circuit of about 600m, down by the big roundabout over the Weaver.

As it turns out, it is a hill circuit. I don't need the stats from the GPS to prove that: needing to drop into a low gear to make the climb is enough evidence of that! It gets hot and sweaty very quickly. I'm not on great form tonight, hardly surprising after nearly 40 miles already since Saturday, but it's still a useful session, and James is always a good guy to train with.

On the way back, we're entertained by a lit firework, or at least that's what it looked like, in the underpass. I guess everyone needs a hobby but...

10 October - Glyderau: Taper Relief

So I've reached the strange place called "taper". It's supposed to involve reducing mileage in the period leading up to the race to make sure you're fresh. There's one fatal flaw with most of the advice you read: it assumes your training plan consists of running xx miles per week. Mine doesn't, and if it did, it wouldn't be enough mileage to worry about "tapering" it in any case. So let's forget it.

Instead, all I intend to do is not do any really long runs, but carry on with a bit of interval training over the next couple of weeks. In other words, rest up a bit but stay sharp.
It will give me time to think the race through in any case.

Tonight, the sun sinks in a perfect red ball over the hills to the west. I can't see Wales from here, but from the hills just ten miles away, you can see Moel Fammau - and from there you can see Snowdonia, if the weather's not in the way. I'd like to say bit about that jaggedy collection of hills between Snowdon and the Carneddau, the Glyderau. I've only ever been disappointed with one trip into these hills - a plod up from the Capel Curig side to a fogged-out Glyder Fach one day in the early nineties. Every other day I've spent here over the last 20 odd years has been at least a good one, with some very memorable times. You don't really get to see the best of these hills from Llanberis - the slate quarries stretching for 2000' up the side of Elidir Fawr don't help, but they are the main reason Llanberis is here today, so better not complain too much about them!

On the Ogwen side, viperish Tryfan is everyone's favourite. From the A5, it looks like a triple-headed shark's fin of rock. On the mountain itself, it looks more like a big jumble of boulders and heather - it can be a confusing place. On my first visit, on a fine warm day, carrying a big rucksack, it scared me to death. I made it up to the base of the North Tower alright, then lost my nerve and spent a long time shuffling my feet, furtively waiting for the next people to come up so I could follow their lead. Those people were good enough to warn me about the notch, just as I was about to fall off the downclimb! Nvertheless, I did get up to Adam and Eve (although I've still never done "that jump") and had a grand afternoon going over to Pen y Pass via the Bristly Ridge. Since then, I've had some good days out on Tryfan, with scrambles up both the Western and Eastern faces, and of course it was part of the Welsh 3000s walk last year, when we had gales and hail to contend with.

The two big hills, Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr are amazingly different in character, despite being separated by only a few metres of descent and less than a mile in distance. Glyder Fach has its rough grey boulder-pile for a summit, with the enormous diving-board of the Cantilever Stone not far away, while Glyder Fawr has an array of dark spiky tors on its flat, greenish top.

In between the two is Castell y Gwynt, the "Castle of the Winds" - another bristling tor. Once, we tried to cross it in fog, and ended up swivelling a full 180 degrees without realising. It was only when we arrived back at the Cantilever on Glyder Fach, which we'd left half an hour previously, that we realised he mistake. I always find the giant boulders on Glyder Fach a puzzle - no problem on a dry day, they can become slippery and awkward in the wet, and I never seem to be able to find the easy route across them.

A couple of years ago, we got up there in deep snow on an incredibly sunny day - I had to break trail all the way, but the view looking down to the Castle of the Winds made it all worthwhile, with Snowdon looking like an Alpine giant behind. I once went out walking with a lass from work, climbing the easy way up Y Gribin - or at least I thought it would be. Things got interesting when the poor girl had a fit of the ab-dabs half-way up, scared by the exposure. There isn't really any on this route, but it just goes to show how subjective these things can be.

Even the outlying summits are good, with great views especially of Snowdon, and across the cwms to Tryfan. Elidir is either a short rocky ridge climb from the Y Garn side, or a testing climb on grass and then boulders of almost 3000' from Nant Peris. Y Garn itself is nice climb from idyllic Llyn y Cwn, or a rough zig-zag on scree. The worst climb in these hills is from Llyn y Cwn to Glyder Fawr, on a very loose path, which is on the other hand great fun to run down. We usually reach Llyn y Cwn by the Devil's Kitchen path - usually easy, with the delight of Cwm Idwal on the way - but I did nearly lose the dog down a frozen stream one winter. Luckily he was on his extendible lead so he only slid about 12 feet down the icy chute before he came to a sudden halt! On the eastern side, there is some lovely grassy ridge-walking over to Gallt yr Ogof and beyond, with a spectacular view of Tryfan across Llyn Caseg Fraith.

9 October: Beauty and the Beast

Today I have to do The Run I Do Not Want To Run. The Last Long Run Before The Marathon. Luckily, it's p-ing down in the morning, so I can put it off until later. I briefly consider wet-weather training to acclimatise for Snowdonia, but I've got years of experience of rain of all Celtic nationalities so it's probably not going to make a lot of difference.

Long solo training runs from home are not my speciality. I've been lucky in my training: I've only had to do one so far, but this one cannot be avoided. A 20-miler visiting all the interesting corners of the Whitegate Way (it's a railway trackbed).

It's no surprise that I set off grumpily on a loop around the Common, and notice how much various muscles are complaining after Saturday's rough treatment. Down at the end, I head along the Weaver, dodging fishermen (now that's a good sport). I head up through Vale Royal Abbey, past the posh houses (why do posh people wear Wellington Boots? In the street? Is it compulsory from October to April?).

I've got three gels and one bottle of pop. I stop for a go at those at the end of the estate road, and turn down Grange Lane. At about 6.5 miles, I turn on to the Whitegate Way and surprise myself by noticing how nice the trees look, and how entrancing the effect of the sunshine through their leaves is. I'm either going soft or hallucinating. Back to business: past a couple having an affair (he's still in his suit, she's holding on much too tight for just gone 5 o'clock), assorted dogs, horseriders: is there no end to the obstacles that prevent me from running on the flat part of the track?!

It all goes a bit blurry until I get to Cuddington and turn around at the main road - then it goes all difficult and nasty until I remember I'm running uphill a bit. After the gates, when the track turns downhill again, it's really quite nice. On the first long run I did, I was ruined by the bridge: now I'm running at race pace. I'm still doing that all the way to the road, and I can even run a bit after that. The last hill isn't too bad for a change - and I'm so overjoyed by the end that I do an extra mile and a bit for fun.

Bloody marvellous. I might actually do this marathon.

7 October: Trails and Tribulations

Nothing much to say about my run today: just an 8-miler to stretch the legs after yesterday - along the Whitegate Way and back afte the morning sun had gone.

News filters through from elsewhere though: a right old palaver is developing in the Chicago Marathon. I get the first report through on Helen's race on email and at 15K she's running about 7:25 miles, a long way behind schedule. She gets slower: 7:36 overall miling at half marathon; 8:28 by 35K - and at the finish she's run a time of 3:56. I have a quick look at the news reports and it seems that the weather has not only been hot, but incredibly humid: awful conditions for a distance race - later, it turns out that 300 runners have been hospitalised and one has died, although it's not clear whether the conditions had anything to do with it. Runners at the back of the field found the course closed behind them. There's always a fuss when things go wrong in races - usually because of the weather - and the fuss over this one will be huge. I don't like the big events as there's so often a problem, with blame and arguments long after the race is over - I remember the slagging the Blackpool Marathon organisers took after the 2005 race there held in difficult 85 degree conditions. I was only running the half that day and recorded a personal worst - but the furore afterwards seemed to develop a life of its own with many people who weren't even at the race joining in with the lynching over the lack of water on the course - all very ugly.

The important thing is that she's ok - it's a shame that all the hard work in training has been scuppered by hard conditions, but I hope she'll find some positives to take from it, however difficult it is when you've been focused on the one race for so long.

Oddly, I admitted to Lindsay on Saturday that even if I didn't get to run the Snowdonia this year for some unexpected reason, it wouldn't matter too much, I've such a good time training for it. Of course, conditions in North Wales are unlikely to be oppressivley hot and humid at the end of October, but the weather can throw all sorts of other nasties at you, so there's a fair chance of a slow time however well prepared I might be!

Better news here at home: I hear from Tom who has run a magnificent Sandstone Trail Race to finished seventh overall (only fourth MV40, it's tough in the Old Git's Club!) - and even better Tony has won the MV50 class. I'll probably never reach those heights, blessed as I am not with natural athletic ability (never mind the 20 years of smoking!) - but athletics at our level is always as least as much about a struggle with yourself as it is about competition with the rest of the world. And at the end of the day, it's just one of the things that makes up a life.

6 October - I Love the Lakes

I'd visualised battling wind and rain, slithering down wet rocky descents and fording knee-deep streams before emerging mud-spattered, bloodied and bruised onto the finishing field for this race. Actually, that was more like August's brief visit to the Coniston area (on the Old County Tops route). In fact, today was balmy, delicious, almost edible in its glorious warmth and sunshine.

Anyway, enough of the purple prose - we got as far as Coniston with no problems at all on the roads then got held up in a major traffic jame trying to park on the field. Blue skies, sparkling water (in the lake, where it should be!) and statue-still trees (no wind) helped reduce the stress factor though! As I did my pretendy warm up, I bumped into the usual suspects: Lindsay, of course, Cath (who reminded me it was all my idea that she should enter this race after having an awful time at Garburn), Matt (hadn't run since Garburn!) and various other cahracters including Paul Chrisp from Tarporley in his "Beano" vest, and Michaela Dempsey and Martin Bates from Wesham. Paul Chrisp is just ahead of me in the series rankings but I don't think I've much chance of catching him, especially now he's turned up for the race!

Paula has Dizzy & Tugger for company, and is taking photographs. We line up optimistically forward under the start banner, someone comes in late, a count-down, then we're off. The first mile is reasonably flat. I'm starting conservatively: at 10K pace - doh! I don't need to bother letting runners pass me when I notice, we're all slowing down.

Martin comes past me through Coniston Village, and I can see that Beano vest not far ahead. We disappear up a side-street, and oh dear, the climb has started, on tarmac. I'm wise to this by now though, and drop the gear right awaym before I even start to feel sick and dizzy. I tuck in behind Martin for a bit. Beano gets no further ahead. The tarmac turns to a stony track: my goodness it feels steep. Drop another cog or three. Satisfyingly, everyone around me is breathing very hard. Before we get to the youth hostel, I leave Martin and go in search of Paul Chrisp's Beano vest. A Clayton-le-Moors lady comes past - I recognise her from Derwent Water. She's a good climber (she should be, she can't weigh more than seven stone!). The higher we climb, the nearer I get to that vest, and nearly catch it at a ford by the pudding stone.

Everything is technicolour: gold, red, orange and brown - it's a visual masterpiece at this time of year, when the sun's out. None of this helps with the next bit, 200m of very steep bouldery stuff. Luckily everyone else is walking so I have no choice but to file behind. This is the top of the climb though, and soon we're speeding up and descending, still through boulders, then on a hard, dry trail, getting faster all the time. The Beano certainly is - he disappears out of sight. I'm saving some for the next small climb - only 200', but we're not even half-way yet. Coniston Water shimmers blue in the valley beneath us.

The climb is a series of small rises along the Walna Scar Road - I'm finding the going hard along here, and settle for biding more time until the descent starts in earnest - the runners in front of me are too far ahead to tag. Suddenly, we veer off down a grassy avenue, and it gets fast. Even faster as we hit a track filled with loose boulders - I pull in the guy in front of me, then the next, then the Stockport runner. Great stuff, I love loose descents.

Sadly, it doesn't stay loose for long, and then there are some small rises, a trot through a grassy meadow, then a slippery dip through a wood. Downhill on a good surface isn't as good for me as on a poor surface, and the Stockport guy comes past again. Then, we're through Torver, over the road, and down to the Lake. I've been missing the distance markers and I'm unsure how far is left, possibly a mile? I'm tiring now though, and I don't want to spoil the run by finishing exhausted, so I keep up a steady trot along the lakeside, over the last wall, and back to the showground. Round the back of the climbing wall I hear the tannoy announcing the arrival of The Beano. A good lady runner comes past, but no-one else, and I get my finish to myself.

It's been a lovely, enjoyable, strong run - I've finished in the top 100 only once so far in the series (at Garburn), but today I'm in the top 50.

At the finish, I talk to the Stockport guy. Yes, he knows John Parrott! The lady runner says that she tagged me all the way around the course. I'm flattered - I'm worth tagging then am I?

I find Paula and we see all of our friends finish - first Lindsay, having a good run again, then Cath, and finally Matt, who is the only one of us not to beat a 69 year-old, but still very fit and dapper Dr Ron Hill.

After the race, I retrieve the camping chairs, and we all spend a lovely afternoon in the sunshine, listening to the band, watching the childrens' races, and the presentations. With a beer or three. Perfect!

4 October: Silly Hilly Fun

I shouldn't really be speed-training tonight but what the heck. It's only a small hill and a short circuit, so better to get an adrenaline kick than a slow jog in before Saturday's Coniston Trail Race. Anyway, I'm not doing the long run-in tonight so it should count as a rest!

Down at Knight's Grange, it's a lovely evening with just enough chill in the air. Just for once, I'm early. The warm up is through town, then we're at Springbank. It's a relay and I'm partnering James. I tell him to run slowly, so I can get a decent rest in between each lap! The 10 circuits are great fun, and I let myself get a bit faster as it goes on. This is the payback for running big hill climbs slowly, running little ones quickly, and it feels really good.

I'm writing this on Friday night. It's been another beautiful sunny day, and I'm looking forward to tomorrow's trip to Coniston. The big climb is pretty steep for a trail race, but it will be nice to keep something back and then use it up on the Walna Scar Road and the long descent back to the lake - that's the plan, anyway! I phoned Lindsay, who hasn't been well this week, but she's going to run anyway. We debate the merits of road shoes v. studs and it looks like it should be road shoes (as long as I don't fall over, when I will curse them!). Oh well, only another 15 hours until the start!

3 October: Statistics v. Courage

Today's one of those terrible days off. Granted, I've done about 45 minutes cycling and walked the dogs a couple of times, but it doesn't really count as useful training, just a bit of exercise. I've plenty of time to think about what a goal time really should be.

I had a plan of looking at last year's splits and working out a split ofr each mile this year, based on percentages. What a stupid idea. Instead, I've divided the race into fast/medium/slow/very slow sections and got a rough idea of a pace for each sort of mile. Really, it's only going to be any use at the very start of the race, and for the rest of it I'll need to go by how I feel. I've decided I should feel a bit worse than I did at Windermere, but I'm still going to go for a conservative start. I do like passing people.

I decide to test out my theory that a top performance, in reasonable conditions, would be around 3:15, and get little evidence to support it. Everyone who ran at that level last year (that I can find times for) had faster races at other distances last year than I've had this year. But then there's those fastest-ever intervals. And I LIKE hills. And I've actually done some "marathon training" for this one. And this really is going to be my best ever race.

In the end, all I can decide is that, come what may, I'm going to run the first mile in just under 8 minutes and see how it goes. I also know that will feel tired, tense, and irritable on race morning. That I will lose my vaseline. That I will probably line up too far back. That I will think that it wil be too cold/wet/the wind direction will be wrong/there's a problem with my feet/legs/eyes. That the queue for the only available toilet will be too long and the nearest bush bare of leaves. That it will, despite all this, be a wonderful day. That if I fail, it will still all be worthwhile. That I will not fail.

1-2 October: Park Life

It's October! So less than a month to go until the big day then. Far from being a restful and relaxing break from running, my two days' hillwalking seem to have brought their own problems in the shape of sore calves and a bit of a cold. I always have sore calves after being out in the hills, which is weird, as everyone else seems to complain about sore quadriceps, something I never suffer from.

On Monday night, I test my legs and lungs out with a short four-mile jog around the common, which only confirms that (a) my calves are sore and (b) I've got a bit of a cold.

Tuesday is silly run day, meaning that I start out on the bike in the morning, leave work, wearing my running kit, a little bit late and start training very early. Tonight, I head down the towpath to the lanes, and run through to Davenham. As it's just gone six when I get there, it's no real surprise to meet up with Colin and I turn around and run back to Rudheath with him. We bump into Dave and Graham towards the end of this extended (about 7 miles) warm-up, and after meeting a big training group at the leisure centre, I'm back at work again by about seven!

Work is at Gadbrook Park, where we're training tonight. I've never done this session before, which turns out to be 10 reps of a short circuit of just under 600m. I'm glad of the long 90 second recoveries, but it doesn't feel that hard, even though I later have a discussion with my watch which tells me that it's the hardest I've ever run in an interval session. After the reps, I do another 20 minutes or so before climbing back on the bike and scooting home for a curry. I wonder if I might be in decent marathon shape after all.