Athens November 2017
Berlin October 2019
Chicago October 2023
Dublin October 2022
Edinburgh 26 May 2024
Filippide 4 August 2023
Gran Canaria November 2023
Hong Kong 21 January 2024
London April 2023
Midnight Sun 22 June 2024
Oslo 21 September 2024
Riga 19 May 2024
Stockholm June 2019
Venice October 2018
Welsh 17 March 2024
Zurich 21 April 2024

Chicago Marathon Report

It’s just 10 years since Anna Verrico ran her last race, completing a lap of the Isle of Axholme half marathon in her hometown of Epworth. It marked the beginning of the end, but the war against the cancer which killed her has not ended. I took up arms again on Sunday 8 October to launch the 10 in 10 challenge.

I was supported by my friends Mark Beardmore, Paul Pugh and Gavin O’Flaherty, all partners at Eversheds Sutherland, the law firm I call ‘home’.
As one of the Abbott World Majors, Chicago is well set up, with a vociferous home support, great organisation and 47,000 runners! The route is pancake flat and wends its way from the Cloud Gate via downtown, Lincoln Park, Lake View, Pilsen and Chinatown (my favourite bit of the race, where live drums accompanied dragon dances!) before a wicked u turn from mile 22-24 (you could see runners on the other side of the dual carriageway and the temptation to hop over the central reservation was real!) back via Michigan Avenue with a naughty uphill 600 metres from the finish and a drop to the line. The crowds were deep and plentiful and having my name on the front of my vest turned out to be a good plan, ‘Go on Paul’ a regular refrain.

I’d had Covid at the start of September and was a bit worried about the lungs, but splits were on points – 58:31 for 10k, 2:02:28 for half, 2:55:01 for 30 k.

I tend to get emotional from mile 19 – when it starts to hurt – and think of all the family and friends and families of my friends who we have lost to this wicked disease and those who are still fighting it. Mile 21 was for a friend who always used to send me good luck messages and congratulatory notes before the disease darkened her family’s lives. I have a friend who always keeps me going in the last 5k and I needed his support for that last park run from mile 23. I stopped briefly at Mile 25 to send my kids a note and burst into tears.

Also have a tradition when I am running abroad without my family – I got to mile 26, stopped properly (with hundreds of people mistaking my halt as a lack of resolve) called the kids on FaceTime and turned the camera forward. They were shouting at me for the last .2 miles as to which runner we needed to pick off, so I swooped for the line with ‘lady in green shorts you can beat her’ in my ears (dear reader, I could in fact NOT beat the lady in green shorts).

26.2 done. A marathon PB of 4:15:27 at the line.

The challenge is now PROPERLY on – and with an amazing £9k banked for race 1.

Next up – ‘G’ rand Canaria where my friend Paul Pugh will once again be my running mate.

‘E’ is for Edinburgh – Marathon Report

It was 12:10 on the Saturday when the phone buzzed. Air b n b . . ‘We are really sorry, we have had to cancel your booking because the boiler has broken on the flat.’
Emails and calls with the website as we were en route. The only other available accommodation left is £2,000 a NIGHT in Edinburgh. A social media plea and a kind call from a friend and we have use of a holiday home in Bamburgh, 85 miles away from the tram stop.
I was running with friends – or hobbling more honestly; no amount of physio had got rid of the inflammation from a dislodged pelvis and a mis-firing glute. A 5 am wake up call, into the car and away to the airport. A tram into the city centre and a desolate rainstorm washing through the streets. Almost impossible to fathom the extremes of wet. People huddled in any shelter possible in an array of jackets, bin bags and rain coats.
As we went through the start line, the plan was to ‘Jeff’ following the Jeff Galloway method of run walking – but it didn’t go to plan. The first two miles are a steep descent on cobbles (not a lot of fun in the rain) and then we were more walking than running, a friend struggling medically with the wind which grabbed the breath and tore it from the lungs; the sheer miserableness of the conditions really dampening the mood.
A worthy half marathon on the friend’s part and I needed to run a 2:30 half to keep within the time limit. The course was beautiful – sea front and country park; but my body’s natural cadence was off, every footstep jolting through my frame and my head down.

A high five with another friend returning back towards the finish line and it was grit your teeth time. Clawing my way up the field, mindful of the sweeper vehicle picking up back of the pack runners

About three miles from the finish I saw a corner shop, deviated from the route and scoffed a full packet of jelly babies there and then – not sure Eliud Kipchoge would approve, but I was running 13 miles slower than he runs 26, so hopefully that would appease him.

The course had a LOT of pot holes and that marred it somewhat, particularly on the turn into the final 400 metres, but the crowds were out regardless of the weather and really supportive.

The finish was a little chaotic and very muddy, with a mile trudge to get transport back to the city and that lovely drive home, eventually, for a burger in Bamburgh, richly deserved. Later we were to find out on social media that the organisers had unwittingly under ordered medals, so about 500 people are going to have to wait a couple of months for their deserved bling.

Marathon seven of ten – done

‘F’ is for Filippide – Marathon Report

As any runner on my Facebook will know, there’s a maxim of ‘If it isn’t on Strava it doesn’t count’

So marathon 9 of 10 isn’t on Strava. I didn’t post much in advance about it, because it was an extreme marathon in Sicily and I needed to pass an under stress medical on the Saturday evening (watt bike ecg, BP and spirometer).

Le Filippide is described as a race from the mountain to the sea. The rules are 1) the race aims to recreate the conditions of the original marathon (hence the name) so all tech has to be removed before you set out; 2) the course is set with waymarkers only, 3) it starts at 04:30; 4) there are a number of hidden hills to negotiate; 5)’ there is enough water, but we aren’t going to tell you how many water stations, as we don’t want you to know how far there is left’; Oh and 6) Sicily is in the middle of a heat wave so prepare to cook…

The field was narrow – 154 runners had places. I asked the organiser if they had any advice : ‘walk the hills and be prepared to be lonely out there.’

I asked the organiser the average experience of the runners – ‘we’ve got some of the ultra marathoners who have run 200-300 marathons before. Some of the young uns have only run 30 or 40’ – I wasn’t sure if he was joking, but looking around the group at 04:30 it was clear : everyone was an experienced runner. With 15 marathons under my belt, I was right up there as ‘inexperienced’!

It was dark and hot at the start point, a random hotel on a back road – no road closure with cars zooming past at 90 km an hour from behind, occasionally hollering out their passenger windows. Moderately terrifying!

We set off in a pack for the first 8 miles, glad of those who had head torches. As dawn broke, it was into the hills. Then picking our way across a creek bed. Then some more hills. And then the sun properly rose and it was drink a cup of water and pour a cup into your hat territory. The overall profile was 2,300 metres to about 300 metres but the dips and rises made it really, really hard.

There was enough water – I counted 16 stations in total. At every station the volunteers had removed their own watches so you had no idea how long had actually elapsed, running literally without any point of reference except white crosses dotted every few hundred metres on the ground or on a wall. Their only encouragement was ‘push’ – the traffic signs with km markers had the numbers taped over!

The heat was excruciating and sapping; the mercury hit 36 degrees at the finish line.

I’m not sure how far I ran (a couple of wrong turns didn’t help) but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done from a sporting perspective. 111th place. Job done. 31 DNFs. Finishers photo only although I did get photos of Etna park run the day before! The winner was 1) older than me and 2) wearing sandals…

The run may not be on Strava, but I’m hoping it does count. There is a wider point on decoupling from technology, particularly when with the fam which I’ve also been thinking about whilst on holiday. Still, I’d love to know the elevations….

‘G’ is for Gran Canaria – Marathon Report

Billed as Europe’s most southerly marathon, I booked Race 2/10 in April 2023, hoping that it would be warm as the English autumn deepened into winter. The race history was conditions of between 20 to 22 degrees, occasional cloud and word in the marathon community that the ‘merch’ was really good.

I knew that there would be pathos at the event, because it corresponded to that fateful day 10 years ago when my wife succumbed to breast cancer. A lot had happened in that decade and the run would be part of my epic challenge of 10 marathons in 10 months to honour Anna Verrico.

Fast forward to landing on 17 November 2023 and the locals were enthusing over the Canarian heatwave, which was great for tourism. The mercury hit 30 degrees on the Saturday and was heading North. This was a problem.

I was running with my friend Paul Pugh, a fellow partner at the law firm I work at. We’ve run Berlin, Chicago and Dublin together in the past; he’s a lot faster than I am and had promised to support this marathon and hang out for the weekend.
Marathon weekends with the boys are not traditional ‘lads’ trips. Little or no beer is drunk. Early bed times are scrupulously adhered to.

On arrival from different airports, we rendezvoused at the expo to pick up our race numbers. The race t shirt looked a little like a Harlequin jersey – bright, technical fabric and the best looking top from any marathon I’ve done. There was a free rucksack and a hand towel. It was a much smaller expo than a world major, but the organisers were friendly, the wait was short and we were reassured that there were plentiful fluid stops.

A relaxing beach day on Saturday culminated in a pizza and pasta meal and an early night. Gran Canaria is a small marathon, so getting into the race pen was easy and quick. Waiting time was minimal. An 8 am start line, a burst of “It’s my life’ by Bon Jovi over the PA system and we were off – I’d watched Bon Jovi with Anna just 4 months before she died, when we thought she was recovering from the cancer. It seemed symbolic and appropriate, as it’s been a theme since she died that I live my life on my own terms and Sunday was a significant day to do just that.

24 degrees Celsius before we had managed the first mile. Only the markers were in kilometres and it was hard to work out 42 kilometres rather than 26 miles.

The Gran Canaria marathon starts at the lighthouse in Maspalomas, winds out through the golf course and then drags uphill through the centre of town. The elevation is 45 metres but you undulate a lot. At the half way point, you loop back and do it all again – I find these type of runs tough as you know what’s coming. The drink stations seemed much further apart than expected. Eyes on my watch, the first half marathon was a 2:08 time, all the signs augured well for a decent finish. And then it got hotter. Much hotter. The second loop was run in temperatures of 30 degrees plus. There was a realistic prospect of a DNF (Did Not Finish, every competitor’s nightmare) if I couldn’t cool down.

My friend Victor Shirley, the champion runner for his age group, had sagely advised me to soak my headband as often as I could to try and cool down. I tried this at the aid stations and it was bone dry within a kilometre. Water was contained in plastic bottles, so I started drinking one and then dousing myself and my headband with the other, carrying it as far as possible.

The mile times started to fall apart – 11 minutes. 11 and a half minutes. The heat was merciless and relentless. I text home from the 30 kilometre rest stop – ‘I’m burnt’. Alessandro ‘put the afterburners on, Dad’.

At 34 kilometres a chap next to me sparked out. One minute he was running, the next full length. His mate called for medical assistance. It was getting hotter. Most people were now walking up the hills.
Your mind drifts at this point. I thought about what I was doing 10 years before – the desperate attempt to get Anna to the London Clinic and the tragedy of her passing. I thought about my Isle of Axholme friends who lost their wives in the last year. I was walking. I sent a text to both men to let them know I was thinking of them. 40 kilometres sign.

Somewhat bizarrely, I found myself in conversation with myself. 705 families helped since Anna died. That was a good thing, right? £1,249,000 raised. £0 in salaries. And then the tears flowed. All the people who continued to support a decade later. And then I shouted at myself to start to run. This wasn’t chemotherapy. It was just a few hours of discomfort.

Kilometre 41
A FaceTime call to the family. ‘Who wants to run the last bit with Dad?’ A crazy downhill and an 8 and a half minute last mile. 33 degrees temperature check on the line.

4:41.29 – definitely not my best time, but probably the hardest sports event I’ve ever participated in. A medal on the line and a beer token completed the experience; contrary to popular belief, there were no sandals as a finishing gift. I caught the plane on time and was home in time to play ‘autumn leaves’ at 11:17, the minute Anna died 10 years prior.

Anna Verrico – in your honour.

‘H’ is for Hong Kong – Marathon Report

I’ve worked in HK a lot since the onset of the Covid pandemic, working with a major energy client on a redesign of its safety management system and assurance process. It was great to see the city ‘back to normal’ with some 74,000 runners taking part in the HK Marathon festival, which also included the Asian Marathon Championship. I was able to drop in for a flying visit due to the largesse of my law firm, who supported a client visit to coincide with the marathon which is regarded as one of the toughest in Asia.
The actual event starts in Kowloon, with a really long drag up the motorway to Stonecutters Bridge and Ting Kai Bridge, before switching back to Hong Kong Island and heading 30 metres BELOW sea level through the West tunnel under Victoria Harbour before ascending up a flyover which undulates brutally before squirting you out on to the streets of the Island. Temperature was a much more manageable 19 degrees Celsius than the heat of my last outing in Gran Canaria.
Hong Kong marathon is an unforgiving, merciless course, with 2,300 feet of elevation across the 26.2 miles. Drink stations are plentiful but the isolation of running the bulk of the race on a motorway means that there is a dearth of support for the majority of the race. It’s also the first marathon I’ve done where the race organisers actively have to warn runners against taking selfies on the route to avoid incident.
For me, the biggest challenge was around the 17 mile mark, where the marathon runners merge in with the half marathon runners. Until this point, I had been consistently running around 9:40 a mile. Suddenly, I was confronted with a barrage of people, many of whom were walking; density was much greater and my stride was broken. The selfie warnings were largely ignored, and i’d be running along only to suddenly face someone’s stopped back as they paused at a kilometer marker or a landmark for a photo. This was a real downside to having so many people taking part in so many events at the same time with the same finish point.
The race t shirt (a nice blue adidas top) and a decent gong made the effort worthwhile. It was also the first outing for my new racing shoes, a pair of Alphafly Zoom – worn straight out of the box, I think they made a real contribution to a better finish.
A final time of 2:26:13 was perfectly adequate in the jetlagged legs of this Lincolnshire flatlands trained runner – I remain incredibly grateful for your kind donations which have got us to a third of the total with seven races to go. Next up is Wales on 17 March – still plenty of time to enter!

‘M’ is for Midnight Sun – Marathon Report

Type ‘World’s Best Marathons’ into google and on virtually every short list, you’ll find ‘Midnight Sun’. It’s a one off, bucket list adventure and was always the one marathon out of the ten that I was most looking forward to. I’ve been injured since marathon 5; since Zurich I had run a total of 60 miles in two months, which had included the run / hobble in Riga and Edinburgh, so cardio fitness was not what I wanted, but I did have some mobility back and my physio had strapped me up.

The Midnight Sun Marathon (“MSM”) takes place in Tromso in the far north of the world; 70 degrees north, to be precise, which puts it above the Arctic Circle, so there is 24 hour daylight. When I left work on Thursday, one of my fellow partners had sent me on my way with ‘just make sure you are back before sunset, eh, PV?’ – given sunset was about 42 days after the race, I was pretty confident that was, at least achievable.

MSM is the world’s most northerly marathon – bookended with Grand Canaria which is Europe’s most Southerly, it felt a great contrast; MSM takes place on the weekend closest to the longest day. There were a lot of Brits running.

Tromso is a city in two parts, with most of the population located on an island as it is in the Norwegian fjords. and is quite compact, with 65,000 inhabitants – making it smaller than Scunthorpe. I arrived late Friday, found the air b and b and grumbled that the midnight sun looked more like a grotty afternoon in Northern England. The start/finish and registration were no more than half a mile from the apartment, which certainly came in handy after I’d finished.

Race day itself was strange; I picked my number up, PAID for a race T shirt and then had lunch with my friend Paul Kirkby, who was out here running for MIND with his family. I booked a sauna / swim at PUST, which involved diving into the arctic, getting warm, diving into the arctic… you get the idea.

Very different to a normal race day. I opted for brown bread and butter for tea, to get the slow release carbs. As the race start finally approached, I headed down the street to the start line after watching a bit of the euros on my IPad. The temperature was an almost perfect 13 degrees by this time. I milled around looking for any UK vests and listening out for anyone speaking English. Shout out to Saltaire Striders, who were out in numbers.

An energetic warm up and the race went off at 20:30 – I crossed the line 30 seconds later. There is a a small loop of the town and harbour, before heading out to Tromso bridge – Wikipedia tells me it is 1,036 metres long with a maximum clearance to the sea of 38 metres; it was gruelling and sapped the legs in the first two miles.

Unlike the Humber, Tromso bridge is not evenly shaped, and thankfully we got the longer side out the way first. Upon reaching the other side, we went around the main landmark of the city, the Arctic Cathedral, before heading south along the coastal road of the mainland side.

As the houses slowly started to spread out, the sound of running water was becoming more obvious, and only when I looked, did I realise small waterfalls were running off the hills, between the houses, and into the sea. The end of the outbound section of the first half was the only part where it was quiet due to there being no houses by then, and it came as a great relief to see the solitary traffic cone that indicated it was time to turn round. From there it was back the way we’d came, around 22:30 with the sun absolutely blazing down. I was pleased to be wearing my shades. The route was undulating and not at all the ‘flattish’ terrain advertised!

The approach from the other side of the bridge was steeper but much shorter, so I unashamedly hiked it rather than ran it; there was a lovely long glide downhill once we’d reached the top but still seven miles to go. There were photographers on the climb up and I wondered why they’d picked the spot where we’d all probably look awful, and only afterwards did I realise why they were they, as the cathedral formed the background shot.

The markers were all in kilometres; whilst fairly common in continental races, on this occasion, they also actually counted down. I was keeping an eye on the clock, not for my race time, but for the actual time. I was determined to try and soak up the madness of running late at night in what felt like the glare of the midday sun. It was just after the bridge that the clock ticked over into Sunday. At the final kilometre marker, you could start to hear the crowds by the finish line which certainly gave you that last boost you needed. The last 500m was almost like running down The Mall at the end of London Marathon, as it was straight down the main street in the town, and even given the time, the support was packed on both sides. I can’t quite describe the feeling of finishing a marathon at 1 am in broad daylight, other than ‘unique’ – particularly one with 750 metres of elevation!

Obligatory race photo with medal and I walked back to the hotel. I’d taken quite a lot of caffeine on with Bloks and pre workout, so I knew the arms of Morpheus were some way off. I think I drifted off around 4 am. For whatever reason, I decided to climb Floya, which was on the other side of the bridge on the Sunday. It’s fair to say my legs were screaming at me on the descent.

Scenery 9/10
Crowd 7/10
Difficulty – 7/10
Time 4:37:02
Recommend 10/10

‘O’ is for Oslow, 10 of 10 – Marathon Report

I was originally due to start the 10 in 10 challenge in Norway last year. A dose of Covid put paid to that but the organisers kindly deferred my entry so it became the final race of the endeavour. Joined by my friends Paul Pugh and David Sullivan in the city, the highlight of pre-race was a visit to Vigeland Sculpture Park – the park contains 212 bronze and granite sculptures created by Norwegian sculptor Gustav Vigeland. He worked over a period of almost 20 years, from 1924 to 1943, and donated his sculptures to the city. The sculptures range in topic from representation of humans in everyday situations, such as walking, sitting, holding hands, to more symbolic subjects such as “Man Attacked by Babies,” to highly abstract works, which represent the centrepiece of the complex. He clearly also forecast our victory stance at the end of the race.

The starting line created a range of emotions. This has been the most difficult physical endeavour of my life and this was the last one; literally the end of the road. I’ve been buoyed by the incredible support from friends, colleagues and well-wishers to achieve the goal of funding research at the University of Sheffield. I have experienced such unbelievable help to realise what seemed impossible a year ago; all I could think about on the start line was how kind people are and how grateful I was for their assistance in commemorating Anna’s life in the most meaningful way possible.

Oslo is a small capital city, so the course was two loops, passing the Vigeland park, with never ending rolling hills to a total 1150 ft of elevation. A combination of asphalt, cobbles and gravel didn’t help the knees, but having Oslo Fjord on the right for around 8 miles was scenic. Before the race, a friend had suggested that the trick was 3 seconds, then 3 minutes, then 3 hours – keep chunking off the moments when the emotional overload became too great.

The real highlight of the race was getting to run the track of the Bislett Stadium at miles 11 and 24 – 40 years ago, an annual meet, the blue ribbon event was referred to as the “Dream Mile”. With Vangelis’ Chariots of Fire playing in my brain, it was my chance to emulate the golden era of British middle distance running involving Seb Coe and Steve Ovett when they regularly broke world records over various distances. In 1979 Coe set the then world record for 800 metres; in 1980 Ovett set a new mile record; and then in 1981 Coe set a world record for the rarely run 1000 metres. Steve Cram carried on this British tradition by setting a new mile record in 1985. All in this very stadium!

I took my headphones off for the last 5 miles and just sat with my thoughts. The last decade has been unfathomable in so many ways. Team V has been a constant beacon of decency in an otherwise listless sea of trying to sail an unexpected course with the kids. It acts as a vector for good people to help others. I’m pleased we set the charity up, although the reason for the motivation will ever destroy me.

There have been times on this escapade when I’ve felt more connected, like I could almost talk to Anna still (normally when I’ve hit the wall or found another hill or the temperature has started to fry my head) and I could hear her urging me to finish what I’d started. As I crossed the line, I didn’t have any kind of epiphany. What was promised was delivered. Anna is still gone. ‘Never give up’ was a family motto a long time before cancer entered our family.

I hope that the generosity of those who have kindly given to the cause is rewarded with a breakthrough in the research. I sincerely hope that we find a way to help others like Anna who find their life opportunities diminished by illness. Thank you again for your kindness, mind blown.

‘R’ is for Riga – Marathon Report

It’s funny how the challenge has gathered momentum and participation. At the half way point, it was the turn of Anna’s children to enter the fundraising fray. Also joining the trip were the Eversheds Sutherland Marathon Club, a hardy team of international colleagues from my law firm who were supporting along with my friend Ed James.

Saturday dawned bright and hot. The DPD mile is a circular route heading to the Freedom Monument, celebrating Latvian independence. Alessandro weaved his way to the start of his pen for the 10 am start, Lucia a little more reserved. The gun went and they surged out the gate. Both kids have been training with SMW Fitness for the last few weeks and the improved stamina really told as they confidently strode through the pack.

Lucia finished 103rd out of 1204 international females all age groups and Alessandro finished 96th out of 1792 males. Both ran great times, Alessandro with a 6:32 mile and Lucia 7:26. Medals round neck, it was time for the sprint event.

The sprint is a timed trial over the course of the day with all bib times logged and a table compiled. Alessandro finished first in his age group as the fastest 11 year old in Riga; Lucia second in the under 14s. Both were very pleased with their performances and their first proper race day experience in a city wide event and a truly global competitor field. They were the only British kids running and were delighted to be sporting Team GB bibs. Collectively they had pooled £2,500 towards their mum’s endeavour set over a decade before.

Over to me for the marathon on the Sunday. Hot and clear best described the conditions – 23 degrees on the start line rising to 27 degrees by noon. A quick gun and the half marathon and marathon runners set off together. A run out across the bridge over the Daugova River into Pardaugava and a loop towards the university. Back to the old town and the soul-destroying left turn to loop back and repeat or right turn to the half marathon finish line.

Things were not going to plan. My right knee pain was getting worse (Ibuprofen and Paracetamol were wearing off) and my heart rate was rising. 184, 185, 190. For a 47 year old man, that was not good, so I sought medical advice. The very lovely Latvian medics put me in the shade, doused me with water and gave me something to drink and checked my sugar levels. They asked me if I wanted to retire (no way) and then suggested I pursue a walk / jog strategy to finish the 14 or so miles remaining. It was not a pretty sight as I dragged myself around – last Eversheds finisher in 4:58. Not at all the performance I wanted after the Switzerland PB just last month, but nothing is predictable in marathon running.

Crossing the line and waiting were my friends Alice and Ed. We were ushered into the marathon lounge and presented with a sandwich, a giant gherkin and a pint of lager – without a doubt the best post marathon finish so far. The Eversheds team very kindly had booked a table at the ‘Victory’ pub where the second beer was about as good as anything I’ve ever tasted. We met our Latvian colleagues for dinner and then an early night ready for the flight home on Monday. Whilst I was running, the kids had enjoyed a trip to the zoo with Bec Pugh, who was on childminder duty!

Riga is a brilliant event and my favourite marathon of this series. Inexpensive to enter, flights cheap, hotels reasonable, superbly organised and a wonderful city. Highly recommended.

Huge thanks to the team who travelled and the independent fundraising accomplished, to all those who kindly gave to the kids and to MCFT our core sponsor.

‘W’ is for Wales – Marathon Report

The Pembrokeshire coast in March is a challenging setting for a marathon. Driving down after school on Friday, Saturday was spent at Sandy Water park run (my 11 year old beat me by three minutes) and a visit to Tenby, although the weather was appalling with the horizontal rain sweeping in off the Irish Sea
Race day dawned and my friend Nick Cranfield, the Chair of Team Verrico, was my pacer. There were two problems

1. Nick is a 3 hour marathon runner;
2. I was really ill after Hong Kong with pneumonia (don’t try running a marathon with a chest infection is my new rule) – I had run a grand total of 22 miles across 6 weeks since that marathon so ‘under trained’ was quite a thing.

The route is three miles around Pembrey Country Park, which was mostly flooded by rain and then an out and back along the coastal path towards Llanelli, running through Burry Port alongside the Loughor estuary. There were a few moments when it was necessary to run up embankments to skirt the ankle deep puddles.
Chatting with a friend is a great way to run a race; Nick muttered – ‘we are going out a bit quick for you PV’ but I was feeling strong and fit – half way point, 1:56:44 – and in my head I was heading sub 4 hours.
And then – it became really badly gruesome. For the first time in this ten marathon challenge, the legs stopped working. There was very little spectator encouragement as we were on a coastal path. No matter how much glucose I took on board, liquid, self talk – it was like pushing against a heavy velvet curtain – possible, but tiring. Nick turned to discussing Liverpool Football club, Scunthorpe United, the kids – no avail. The run became a hobble became a walk up the hills but we persevered. The sun came out. The mile markers started to drop. 23 miles – a park run to go. 25 miles, back into the country park. 25.5 miles and – a HILL? Then Alessandro popped up on the side of the course and started shouting at me to move. A hobble became a shuffle became a job became a run became a downhill, exhilarating push. 4:20.59 final time, with Alessandro and Lucia presenting the medal once we were over the line. A 5 hour journey back and straight back to work in London on Monday, thankfully on a train.
Many thanks to all those sponsoring, including MCFT who are the core sponsor : we are on £16k of the target to fund a second stage breast cancer drug trial at the University of Sheffield.

‘Z’ is for Zurich – Marathon Report

According to the Times, one of the hidden gems of Europe for the ‘Perfect Spring Break’ is the financial capital of Switzerland. Looking at Zurich’s recent weather, there are good reasons for that recommend – it was a balmy 25 degrees and my weather check showed people lounging on the lake side last weekend – all auguring well for the marathon, which was sold as being the flattest in Europe – an out and back through the city centre and then down the side of Lake Zurich to the turnaround in Meilen.

Flying into the city on the evening of Friday 19 April did not quite match the expected weather pattern. 4 degrees and heavy rain. The forecast was for more of the same. I was joined for the race by my friends Stephen Harrison and Daniel Mitchenson, who had raised over £3k collectively from their own fundraising towards this challenge.

Unlike other marathons, there was no ‘expo’ – you attended a kiosk in the centre of town, get your number and goody bag – and that’s it. The merch was a high quality technical T, some protein bars and a canvas boot bag. Nothing unusual.

As Saturday afternoon drew on, the weather worsened. Stephen and I had gone for a walk and ended up sheltering under a bridge for the best part of an hour, bemoaning the lack of the promised sunshine. Public transport was exceptional and we had an early dinner at the hotel. Dan belatedly joined us, having been held up in Frankfurt flying in.

Sunday dawned grey and dark. There were ominous storm clouds over the lake and the mercury read 1 degree. My choice of shorts and vest was starting to look like a poor life choice. The 08:00 start quickly arrived and we were off within 5 minutes of the gun.

The first 10 km included a trot down Bahnhoffstrasse, which has the reputation for being the most expensive shopping strip in the world. Some of the most famous fashion houses have outlets here – Armani, Gucci, Prada and several of the private banks. Streams of shoppers routinely queue to access the Rolex and Chanel shops. It was strange to run through it whilst deserted, idly eyeing the several thousand Swiss franc clothing advertised in the windows and the unaffordable Swiss watches. Then it was out to the lakeside.

Around the 10 mile mark, the clouds opened and the rain dropped. By mile 12 the rain had become hail, bouncing around the road and my shoulders with a curious ping sound. The precipitation slackened off and I high fived Dan, who was already on the return leg of the run and going well, then just after the turn around at mile 17, the heavens opened properly and snow started to fall really hard. I could feel my body start to preserve heat – first the toes then the fingers losing feeling. At one point, I wondered if I was having a heart attack as everything was numb. Nope, just cold. High five with Stephen, and then it was a grind all the way back to the finish. One foot after a cold foot, with the temperature hovering around zero and the half marathon runners now also out on the course in force, barreling down the lake in the direction I’d just come from. Kilometre markers started to fall and with about 5k to go I realised I might just sneak a personal best – if I could hold a 10 minute mile pace. Into the city, dip through the line and a text confirming 4:08:37 – a PB by five minutes.

A wretched half mile shuffle to the bag drop and a further stumble to the changing area, where lots of European men suddenly came into view stark naked as they used the hot shower facility. Into the warmth of the changing area to burst into tears at the sudden temperature change and the pain of circulation returning to the extremities.

Many thanks to my friends for their company and the many kind folk who have sponsored the endeavour – half way through the marathon challenge and half way through the fundraising – £26k. Core sponsors MCFT continue to be very gratefully acknowledged.

Riga next!