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 was a grey Saturday morning, about eleven minutes after parkrun finished, and I was standing in the finish funnel staring at my results email. Twenty-six minutes and forty-two seconds….
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…
You’ve done the training. You’ve eaten the pasta. You’ve taped parts of your body you didn’t previously know existed. Your first half marathon is tomorrow, and you’re feeling… fine. Completely…
It was a Thursday morning in June. I was sat in a greasy spoon, halfway through a bacon roll, when my phone buzzed. London Marathon email. I nearly choked. Reader,…
It started, as most mildly questionable decisions do, at parkrun. Someone mentioned they were “following a structured plan on an app” and suddenly their splits were immaculate, their cadence was…
It starts innocently enough. You cross the finish line of some damp autumn marathon, legs gone, dignity mostly intact, and someone at the club mentions you were “close to Good…
It’s Wednesday evening. You had a vague plan to do some strength work after your easy 5K. Instead, you made a cup of tea, stared at the foam roller for…
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 moderately poor decisions do, at parkrun. Someone mentioned they’d entered a half marathon. “It’s only 13.1 miles,” they said, cheerfully. You nodded. You went home, opened…
Picture the scene. You’ve decided to take up running. You walk into a running shop full of hope, wearing your ancient Primark trainers. A very enthusiastic 22-year-old puts you on…