This marathon training takes over a bit. Not so much the hours spent actually running, I’ve given much longer lumps of life to riding audaxes after all. It’s getting the balance right between the various elements. Most weeks there’s a long run, a marathon paced run, an easy run and a trail run to fit in. I try to have a rest day before and after the long run and to avoid too short a gap in-between long runs.

A few weeks ago I wanted to squeeze a 10k race into my schedule, just a 10k shouldn’t do any harm. So I move the long run back a few days and end up doing an 18 mile, a 15 miler three days later then the 10k, a PB, another 3 days later. Then I can’t run at all for several day because of shin splints and the whole marathon is in jeopardy. It’s a delicate balance – I must do enough to be prepared but over step the mark and it’s injury time!

So this September it’s been 18 miles on the 2nd, 20 on the 19th and 22 on last Sunday, the 26th, which I’ll write about now. I’d never actually run 22 miles before, training for my previous 2 trail marathons I walked the hills as I expected to in the race. Abingdon is supposed to be a flat marathon and I plan to run all the way this time.

I take it easy the day before, cycle to the shops, a trip down the allotment but just to pick things. Eat lots, lots of water, only one beer. Up at 8:00 Sunday for my usual museli and juice breakfast, I won’t run for at least 2 hours after eating this. I plan the route using Tracklogs mapping software on my computer, basically my 18 mile route with a 4 mile diversion at the start, I could well forget where I’m supposed to be going if I change the end instead. The plan is 10 minute miles so that’s 3 hours and 40 minutes of music for my iPod Shuffle plus a bit just in case. Start with The Cure, can’t go off too fast with that, Tracey Chapman, Jefferson Airplane, Journey of the Yak, some of Pink Floyd’s long ones – Echos, Atom Heart Mother, and more. I’ve rediscovered a lot of music since I took up running. Bottle belt, ID, £2 to buy water halfway, 4 energy gels, 2 ibuprofen I don’t intend to eat, featherlite jacket attached to my belt because if it does rain, or if I end up walking, it’s going to be cold in that Northerly.

10:30 final visit to the loo, eat a gel, drink more water, and I’m walking up the road to my starting postbox, that bit of a walk being my feeble pretence at a warm-up. I run north towards Headington and am soon finding my pulse going up as I try and maintain my target pace into a strong headwind. Up to Green Road Roundabout (named after the Roman road buried under the traffic jam they call the Eastern Bypass). Then south down the cycleway with the wind on my back and starting to get into a comfy rhythm.

Here's that beautiful Lala again - she's got nothing to do with what I'm writing

A good swig of water every 30 min and a gel every hour is the plan. Under the bypass into Littlemore then on past the old asylum, now flats, to the turn to Sandford. Through the garden of the pub, over the bridge, over Sandford lock, and turn north again onto the Thames path. The winds in my face again now so it’s a balance of keeping my pace on target but my pulse down.

Every few metres there a fisherman. This git pulls his rod right across my path and slots it into some stand on the other side like it’s a toll gate, I don’t want to jump it and land hard on my dodgy right leg so I stop and step over. I find it really sad these people are so lacking in empathy for their fellow creature that they think inviting an animal to dinner, stabbing a hole in it’s cheek, bouncing it around in an atmosphere it can’t breath then throwing it back so the next prat can torture it is a reasonable form of relaxation. It makes me angry, and when I get angry I run faster, and my pulse goes up – and I just have to slow down and get into the music because there are many miles to go yet.

Under the bypass again and heading towards Iffley Lock, there are walkers, runners, cyclists, young and old. A couple of runners coming towards me come into focus and I recognise Maria, Vegan Runner from Abingdon, with a friend, no doubt also on their long run, we wave. After the lock the rowing teams are out on the Thames, freshers I guess, they seem strong but not too consistent. One teams coach, on his bike but without a megaphone, is well pushy. ‘Come on guys, stop slacking, put you backs into it!’.

I seem to be going well. No pains at this stage and I’m happy. At Osney I divert along the Botley Road to a shop to buy more water as planned. I hit the stop button on my Garmin, buy a 1.5 litre bottle, the only option, and chuck the 75p change in the home made charity tin on the counter. Both my little bottles refilled and I have a good drink still leaving half the bottle which I place next to the bin as I feel a sudden resentment at having to tip it away. Last week, a different shop, I only had £1. A small bottle was over £1 but a 2 litre was 85p – where’s the sense in that!

Start the Garmin, start the music, start running. Back onto the Thames path, I like this bit but it’s narrow so can be difficult to share with the cyclists, quiet today though. At Port Meadow it’s left over the bridge to run the less well defined, unsurfaced, path to Godstow Lock then back on tarmac to cross the narrow bridges by the Trout Inn and on into Wolvercote, always feels slow this bit and today is no exception, it is slightly uphill which I tend to forget. Then it’s south again for a while, along the Woodstock Road, then over to Summertown.

I make the mistake of thinking to myself how I’m usually struggling more by this stage. Sure enough the expected return of the tailwind doesn’t happen, my right ankle starts to hurt, whatever my Garmin might say I feel like it taking 10 minutes to run a 100 metres. I’m due for another energy gel so have one along with a drink, then I have to slow down to let the ankle ease. I’m not sure how this works but it does seem that what feels like the very real pain of an injury will often dissolve away with just a 10% reduction in pace then re-materialise the moment I speed up. Ah well, what with now running nearer 11 minute miles, and a hill coming up, I’m probably going to end up taking a bit longer than target time.

Along the Marston Ferry cycle path then by New Marston primary school where I suffered a few years a long, long time ago. Cut through the park, and I’m back up to pace now although definitely feeling the miles. It’s the climb to Old Headington up Saxon Way and Dunstan Road next. I take it easy and am grateful that no pain goblins grab me as I trot up the hill, not far to go now so as the road flattens out I glimpse at my pace on the Garmin and push to get this mile under 11 minutes. Phew, done, but maybe not wise as I’m puffing now. Past St Andrews church, past the first subway to Barton then along the cycleway a bit. A moment’s breather as I wait for the traffic lights to let me cross London Road.

Now it’s the home stretch, miles 21 and 22 are repeats of miles 3 and 4. I’ve got that tailwind back and any the cycleway will soon become a gradual decent. I decide to go for a fast mile, partly to bring the average down but mostly just to get it over with, and wind up the pace. 8:56, easily the fastest of the day! I pay for this with a struggle to manage 10:15 for the last mile.

And it’s done! 22 miles in 3hr 37m, near enough to plan. I walk the last 50 metres home and feel the ache flooding into my vengeful legs, they do this to me as soon as I stop after a long run. Getting home it hurts to stand, it hurts to sit. No particular place but the whole leg, both legs equally, hurt as one unit from the thigh down. Two lumps of hurt, almost laughable in their perfectly distributed discomfort.  Jane tries to massage the worst out which maybe helps but I know really it’s just time that makes them good again. A soak in a warm bath, just what some running books say you shouldn’t do, and 20 minutes later they are fine and I’m downing a hemp protein drink wondering what the fuss was about. The highs and lows of the run settle to leave me feeling it was a success, a good run, and I’m quietly, maybe not so quietly, buzzing. I manage the mile walk to Wetherspoons a couple of hours later though I do have to keep reminding Jane to slow down a bit.