Painful truths

With the kilomathon looming, it was prudent for me to step up training this week, despite ongoing foot pain. The pain is proving to be one of the most intriguing characters in the epic tale that is my marathon journey. Or perhaps more the relentless villain, hell-bent on ruining the dream ending.

The condition seems to be gradually worsening, as one would expect with an increase in mileage. As a result, I am resting as much as possible in between sessions, even limiting my daily walks. With hot and cold remedies in the mix, I seem to have it under control for now. The good news is that during runs the pain seems to peak in the first half hour and then settle down to a manageable state. I upped the distance to 12 miles today and despite an early struggle, came through with energy to spare. Perhaps worryingly though, the pain spread as the run went on; an ominous sign of things to come. The kilomathon should be fine, but the prospect of going 26.2 miles is more daunting than ever.

Make no mistake, the marathon is a notch above its worthy predecessor, the half. It was perhaps too optimistic of me to imagine that the tougher breakthroughs were at the bottom end. I hoped that with increased distance, it would be easier to keep adding miles. But adding even a mile beyond the twelveth takes considerable effort. Presently, the 16.3 mile distance of the kilomathon seems just about plausible. Then perhaps 18, at a stretch. But the fascinating aspect of the marathon is that training ends at the 18-20 mile mark. It as at this point that the body begins to break down, running out of glycogen and experiencing unknown discomfort. Only on race day will I know if adrenaline and the occasion is enough to get me through.

Five weeks until Paris and the dream that last year seemed futile is within touching distance. But the crucial period lies ahead and with a three week trip to Poland on the horizon, it will be anything but standard.