Running in a Heatwave UK: A Realistic Survival Guide
Right, let’s address the elephant in the room: running in a heatwave UK style is a genuinely strange sport. One week you’re battling sideways sleet in a bin bag with…
Right, let’s address the elephant in the room: running in a heatwave UK style is a genuinely strange sport. One week you’re battling sideways sleet in a bin bag with…
It was mile five. A perfectly pleasant Sunday long run, grey skies, a light drizzle (obviously), earphones in, legs ticking over nicely. And then. The rumble. You know the one….
It was a Tuesday evening in November. Cold, dark, drizzling in that particularly British way that isn’t quite rain but still somehow soaks through everything. My kit was laid out….
It’s Sunday morning. You had “just a couple” at the club social on Saturday. Your alarm goes off at 7:30am for your long run. The room is slightly questionable. Your…
It happened at parkrun. Of course it did. You crossed the finish line, hands on knees, breathing like a distressed accordion, and someone cheerfully announced their time was 22 minutes….
It started, as most terrible ideas do, at parkrun. Someone mentioned a local trail race. “It’s only 10K,” they said. “Lovely views,” they said. Nobody mentioned the ankle-deep bog at…
Picture this. You’ve done the long runs. You’ve suffered through track intervals in horizontal rain wearing three-year-old trainers. You’ve set your alarm for 5am on a Sunday, peeled yourself out…
It’s 5:47am. The alarm goes off. It’s raining – obviously it’s raining, this is Britain. You haul yourself out of bed, lace up your trainers, and somewhere between the front…
Let me set the scene. It’s 6:47am. It’s raining – obviously it’s raining, this is Britain. Your alarm went off at 5am, you ignored it until 5:43, and now you’re…
Let’s talk about marathon training confidence. Or more accurately, the slow crumbling of it somewhere around week 9 when your Sunday Long Run feels like a hostage situation and your…
It’s officially Day 1000 of the British winter (not really, but it sure feels like it). Dawn leaks rain, our trainers are soggy before warm-up, and the internal debate over…
There’s a special kind of heartbreak that comes from paying £3 for a tiny sachet of beige sludge, squeezing it into your mouth at mile 14, and realising it tastes…