Tag Archives: marathon

Shepperdine Marathon: race report

by Ben

Background and training summary

I’m both not that keen on running long races, and honestly not that experienced at it. Of the 85 races I ran from 2012 to 2020, only one was longer than 20 miles (the Snowdonia Trail Marathon) and fourteen were over 10 miles (around 16%). In fact, since running Snowdonia in the summer of 2018, I did 19 races, the longest of which was a 10-miler. Over half were 10k races. Through the summer, I often raced two or even three times a month.

So when Covid returned in winter 2020, my first thought was to keep working on what has been a target since 2017: a sub-40 minute 10k. But… I also had a crazy thought: without the continuous grind of 10k races, maybe I could train for a marathon…

I had got into a good training groove through the latter half of 2020, hitting good (for me) monthly mileages:

  • July: 113 miles
  • August: 130 miles
  • September: 138 miles
  • October: 128 miles
  • November: 100 miles
  • December: 103 miles

My overall mileage was okay, but my long runs sat at around 10 miles, so in January and February I started to work them up a bit longer; 14, 15, 17, 14, 18, 20… and then we moved house, roughly a month before the race. Let me tell you, moving house just before a big race is not ideal preparation! But still, my monthly mileages remained okay:

  • January: 102 miles
  • February: 123 miles
  • March: 111 miles
  • April: 115 miles (including the marathon)

Pre-race

As I mentioned above, my only previous marathon was off-road and went over Snowdon. So I didn’t have anything like a representative time. Based on my 10k times race converters suggested I could run something around 3:15, but I am well aware of my own capabilities and experience. As well as very rarely running longer races, I know that my body just isn’t that well suited for it. So I added a bit on, rounded it off, and came up with a target of 3:30.

This was quite a personal target – mostly I was telling people that I just wanted to get a good representative time, and would be happy with whatever I got if the race felt like it went well. You know, that rubbish.

Due to Covid restrictions, the race was pretty barebones, which honestly suits me quite well, as I’m used to small local races anyway. I’ve never really fancied the idea of a big city marathon. My only real concern was what looked like a lack of hydration stations, so I resolved to train with, and expect to race with, a hydration vest (actually a Montane VIA Jaws 10 litre pack for those interested, with bottles, not a bladder).

On race day, I arrived with a fair amount of time, and as it was a rolling individual start, I could more or less start at any point within a two-hour window, although I did have a recommended start time. My only real concern at this point was that after a couple of months of training in wet, cold conditions, the sun had come out in force, and it was that typical ‘London Marathon April Sunday’ – one of the first “hot” days of the year. And… for reasons, I didn’t end up putting sun cream on.

The race

One of the nice things with targeting a 3:30 marathon is that the pacing is pretty simple. It is pretty much 8 minute miles. Mentally, this is a comfortable pace for me to run over distance; the group I lead with the running club runs at 7:30 to 8:00 pace, and anything at “effort” is normally between 6:45 and 7:15. So I headed out with a plan of aiming for around 7:50 per mile, hoping that would be easy enough, while still giving me a bit of a time buffer in case I slowed towards the end.

So, obviously, my first mile was 7:36, followed by a 7:29. But honestly, it felt pretty nice and comfortable, so I decided to sort of stick with it; I decided to ease back a little, but settle at around 7:40. The course was an extended lollipop: a 5.5-mile ‘stick’ with three five-mile loops, and then back along the stick to the finish, just beyond the start. The overall course was pretty damn flat – my Strava recorded 417 feet across the whole thing, but the out-and-back “stick” did have some noticeable rises and falls. They all felt pretty friendly on the way out though!

The rolling start meant that I was continually passing people, and quite often being passed by others – there was no real way of gauging your pace other than simply by feel and your watch. Even so, I managed to run pretty consistently: according to Strava my first five 5km splits were 23:33, 23:54, 23:52, 24:09 and 24:18. That took me to just over 16 miles, and the start of the third loop.

Ah… the marathon runner’s grimace. Yeah… this was about 20 metres in.

The looped nature of the course had been a little bit of a worry – especially as at one point it had been advertised as a five-lap route! But I knew that the marathon would be as much as mental fight for me as a physical one, so I just viewed it as another part of the battle. And honestly, while it was a little bit difficult (I won’t lie, towards the end of that second loop, I was quite tempted just to call it quits and head back), it was fine.

Starting that third loop, my mile splits had slipped to around 7:50, but I wasn’t really that worried. I was still splitting under 8:00, which meant I was still gaining time on my target of 3:30. I figured that with some slower miles towards the end, I was looking at a good chance of somewhere around 3:25, and was feeling pretty happy with the idea. Maybe this marathon lark wasn’t as bad as it seemed?

So, of course, then things started to go a little bit wrong. I got little niggles of cramp in my right leg; both my hamstring and groin. Nothing too bad, but worries in my head. I was drinking plenty of water, but it was hot, I was sweating a lot, and probably hadn’t been taking on gels regularly enough. The combination of the hot sun and the wind, which was quite a strong headwind on the latter half of each loop was getting to me, mentally as much as physically.

My splits began to slip more, but I still wasn’t too worried, I had time in hand. 8:10, 8:06, 8:19, that’s fine, I can manage that. Then, just as I was nearing the end of mile 21, disaster. My left hamstring cramped up completely. Just seized – I couldn’t run, I couldn’t walk. Heck, I couldn’t really move my leg at all. I could see the 21-mile marker just ahead of me, but it didn’t matter, I couldn’t move.

But then I had a bit of water, took a bit of time, stretched my leg out, and managed to start slowly walking. As I did so, it freed up, and I could walk more naturally, and eventually start running, slowly, again. Physically, I was back in action, but mentally, I was thrown. I still had over five miles to go, and I was limping along. The aid station was only about half a mile back – shouldn’t I just go back there, DNF and get a lift back? Did I really want to hobble another five miles?!

I kept going, but I was hyper aware of my hamstring (and any other potential cramping muscles). I was mentally broken, the fatigue of the marathon catching up with me. I was run/walking, not necessarily because of the injury, but just because it had all become too much. The next four miles came in at 9:18, 9:25, 9:05 and 9:46, and hopes of sub-3:30 were gone. That knowledge made things worse – mile 25 was an 11:01. I just couldn’t really be bothered anymore.

Then, I knew I was getting closer to the end. I was still run/walking, but I knew I just had a mile and a bit to go, and you know what, I could still get some sort of time. A 9:35 for mile 26 was hardly setting the world alight, but mentally I’d won, I had come back from the darkness. I actually cracked out something of a sprint finish, sort of, at the end.

I finished in a time of 3:37:21, and once I got over the initial disappointment of the wheels falling off, I was happy enough with it. Sure, it isn’t the best I could do. But you know what, that’s the marathon. Two YouTubers that I follow both did marathons that day (in fact one did Shepperdine), and neither of them went to plan. Sometimes, rarely, the perfect marathon happens. But mostly, it goes wrong to varying degrees, and that’s what happened to me. You live, you learn, you improve.

So, does that mean I might give the marathon another go? Maybe. I’ve got that itch to try again, to fix the things that went wrong and to get that sub-3:30. But… I still hate long runs.

Snowdonia Trail Marathon: race report

by Ben

It’s difficult to know where to start with this one. So, as is traditional, I’ll try and start at the beginning.

Just under a year ago, in the middle of a good spell of training, I saw that one of the runners I follow on Strava had done the Snowdonia Trail Half Marathon. It looked amazing – 13.1 miles, 3,852 feet of elevation. It went over a mountain! The idea took hold quickly. But soon things escalated. I’d been looking for a trail marathon to do for a while. I wanted my first marathon to be off-road, and hilly; that way I couldn’t get too caught up in chasing a time. Also, once I thought about it, travelling all the way up to north Wales for a half marathon; one that was pretty similar to the Exmoor Stagger in many aspects (16 miles, 3,200 feet), seemed not really worth it. So obviously, rather than give up on the idea, I simply decided to run the marathon. And there it was; on Friday 28 July, I had signed up.

Six weeks later, a major spanner fell in the works when I sprained my ankle. Despite my initial hopes to be back up and running relatively soon, it dragged on. Then, in early October, more news: against all the odds, I’d got a London Marathon place. Wow. Suddenly, it looked like I was going from never having done a marathon, to a couple in three months.

In late October I started to run again – a mile here, a mile there. But it wasn’t really until December that I was doing much. Then, with Christmas and illnesses and whatnot, it was January. Various bugs meant that my training remained spotty. But, at the end of February, I made my return from racing. And I did it in typical fashion: a double-header. On Saturday, the Minehead Running Club “Hills to Coast” Relay. On Sunday, the Babcary 7.5.

On 12 March, I “started” my training. It was pretty ad hoc. After just two weeks, I was out of action for two weeks with a diarrhoea bug. Another couple of weeks of training and I had another bad bug, and missed another ten days. It’s fair to say that at this point, I didn’t really think a marathon was going to happen. I’d already deferred my London place; it was quickly obvious that wasn’t going to happen. But I was really starting to worry about Snowdonia too.

Despite all the issues though, I was still making progress. My long runs were getting longer: 13 miles, 14 miles, 17 miles?! (I blame Ron.) I went for a solo run around some of Exmoor’s highest peaks, totalling 19 miles and 3,300 feet. A few weeks later, after a couple of race weekends, I looped back, forth, and all around Center Parcs for 20 miles. By then I was pretty happy – even if I did no more running, I was confident that as long as I was fit and well, I’d be fine.

Which was handy, and I got ill, again. Another week and a bit of training gone.

I’ll start talking about the race now, I promise

Fast forward to race week. Suddenly, the logistics became real, and difficult. My daughter has been getting car sick lately, and a five hour car journey didn’t look too appealing. We created, then tore up plan after plan after plan. Eventually finishing with cancelling all our hotel rooms, and involving me driving up on my own on the Saturday, saying with my in-laws that night, and then driving back straight after the race. It looked like it wasn’t just going to be the race that would be brutal!

It’s a long old journey…

The drive up went pretty well – five and a quarter hours to Llanberis. Then another half an hour to find somewhere to park (this would have been easier if either [a] I had change or [b] North Wales joined the 21st century and allowed you to pay for parking by mobile phone.) It was then simple enough to walk into the race village and collect my number. Another twenty minute drive got me to the holiday cottage in Y Felinheli my in-laws were staying in. We went out for a lovely meal at the Torna a Surriento restaurant in Bangor that evening to allow me to ‘carb-load’. I’m not sure whether Carbonara really counts, but it was delicious, so who cares!

Okay, okay, the race

A relatively normal 6:30 alarm gave me plenty of time to have a large bowl of porridge, start filling myself with water, and get my kit ready before we left the cottage at 7:30 to head to the start. Rather than worry about parking again, my father-in-law kindly dropped me off – we arranged that he would keep an eye on the tracker, and hopefully work out roughly when I was due to finish. I guessed at something between 5 and a half and 6 hours to complete the race.

Having collected my number the afternoon before, I didn’t really have anything to do in the hour and ten minutes before the race. I took a few pictures – both for myself and others, and generally whiled away the time. Bizarrely, given that my main concern for the race was getting too hot in the sun, I also had to work on keeping warm. The sun was tucked away behind the clouds, and it was actually – for the first time in about a month – quite chilly.

An average view from the start/finish area

The Always Aim High event team were brilliant throughout the morning, given frequent updates on the mandatory kit list. They had loosened it slightly, removing the need for waterproofs or gloves – full-body cover was still needed (a long sleeve top and trousers/tights). Sadly, this made no difference for me, as the only full-body cover I had with me was my waterproofs, so I had to carry that anyway. A lesson for the future!

A race briefing was given at 8:45, detailing the cut offs, and some basic safety information – pretty generic stuff, but some good stuff. They asked runners not to use the drink station water to pour over themselves, as this would risk them running out, especially in some of the harder to reach locations.

This bit is actually the race now

Well, sort of.

Not only was this to be my first marathon, but also my first race with mandatory kit, my first mountain race, my first run with more than 5,000 feet of elevation (actually my previous most was 3,800), my first run further than 20 miles, and significantly my longest run time-wise.

I had two main concerns:

  1. Running that far.
  2. Fuelling myself.

You’d think that I was worried about the climb over Snowdon itself, and the elevation, but oddly, I wasn’t. I’d trained with a fair bit of elevation, and was fully expecting it to be a walk, so the difficulty of it had been diminished in my head. I wasn’t even too concerned about the distance. Again, I knew that Snowdon would be something of a walk anyway, so actually, I didn’t really think I would have a major problem completing the race from that respect.

Running in an anti-clockwise direction.

On the other hand, my food and drink situation was one that worried me a fair bit. I get quite significant headaches after a lot of my runs, which seems to be linked to my hydration and fuelling. This race was going to span lunch – in fact, a guide time of six hours from 9 am meant that it would actually be basically all day. I have never used gels in a race before, but had been experimenting with them during my long runs, and had no ill effects. I had also taken peanut butter and jam sandwiches out a couple of times, and found that this had worked well too. So, I made a rough plan for the marathon: 5 miles, gel; 10 miles, sandwich; 15 miles, gel; 20 miles sandwich; 23 miles gel.

My general race plan was to take it pretty easy early on: that initial small looking climb is still over 1,000 feet. So I figured that I would get over that without exerting too much energy, and then crack on along the descent and the flat section. And then, you know, the mountain. I’d basically try and survive the walk up that, and then see how my legs were for the big descent. Sorted. A plan.

The actual start of the actual race (Start to Rhyd-Ddu)

No, like, actually this time.

After the race briefing, we were called to line up at the start. It was all a little bit of a mess, and I didn’t really have a clue whether I was too far forward, too far back, or about right. I guessed I was a little bit too far back, and this was borne out by our start through the village. Heading right down Llanberis High Street, the crowd was going at slightly less than 9 minute miles. Not catastrophically slow, given that I wanted to take it easy to start, but still slower than I wanted. I was aware of a stile at around mile four which other blogs had described as a pinch-point, which long queues. While I wanted to take it relatively easy on the first climb, I also wanted to hit that stile far enough up the pack that I didn’t have to wait too long.

I can tell this is early – I had my cap on!

I continued to gradually pass people along the High Street, and then as we turned up the hill the crowd slowed to a walk. I jogged short sections when there was space, but was mostly happy to go with the group. I really didn’t see any point in killing my legs on this first climb. We continued to climb, first on what was mostly a proper road, becoming a decent, single road-width track, becoming a narrower track, becoming quite a gnarly path. I slotted in with a group of three runners at this stage, and let them dictate much of the pace for a while.

Our first peak was reached at about three and a half miles, and took me about 40 minutes. I say a peak – in reality we were running up a pass between the heights of Foel Goch (605 m) and Moel Cynghorion (674 m) to Bwlch Maesgym (467 m).

Cap off – looking a bit less kempt.

More ‘average’ views.

From Bwlch Maesgym, we dropped down towards the Snowdon Ranger Path, where we had a short queue for a stile. This was the first of the pair that I’d read so much about – I was thankful that I’d clearly got far enough forward that they weren’t too much of an issue. The half marathon route splits off to head up the Ranger Path, but the marathon and ultra runners continued on, down towards Rhyd-Ddu. But first, another stile and some pretty treacherous terrain. I was keeping a pretty decent pace up along this whole section (stiles aside). The downhill nature suited me, and the terrain was pretty friendly early on – soft grass with a few rocks around to avoid. But after we crossed the Ranger Path, we seemed to be in some sort of quarry, and there was a lot of loose shale-like terrain to deal with, and some seemingly artificial mounds to negotiate.

One of the many stiles to get over early on.

Rhyd-Ddu, just about 10k into the race, was the first drinks station. Having missed my first gel at five miles, I took it on here. I also had a big cup of water, and took the opportunity to refill my water bottle. The station was well-stocked with water, High5 Isotonic drink and High5 gels as well. This was also the first checkpoint for the live tracking, so the first time that those following my progress had any idea of how I was doing: 1:08:21, at an average pace of 11:13 per mile, apparently.

The ‘boring’ middle bit (Rhyd-Ddu to Beddgelert)

After the gorgeous first section, and ahead of Snowdon, the middle section was relatively dull by comparison. That’s not to say it was actually unattractive or boring – in any other race, it would have been lovely. It’s just that in this particular race…

Approaching Rhyd-Ddu, when I was still capable of looking like I was enjoying myself!

Heading out of the drinks station in Rhyd-Ddu, we went around Llyn y Gader (a lake) and followed the edge of Beddgelert Forest. The pace picked up; mile 8 was my quickest of the entire marathon (8:25), and most were quicker than 9 minute miles. The terrain was largely compacted gravel, and with less stop-start, it was easier to follow typical race tactics. Three of us ran much of this section together, our paces nicely matching, though we swapped lead of the group a few times.

Entering Beddgelert, we reached the second major feed station for the marathon. Again late for my food, I scoffed down my sandwich as we approached it, and then once again took on plenty of water and refilled my bottle. As I was waiting for my refill, I heard my name – it was fellow RFRC runner Matt Blee, who was doing the ultra. We had a quick chat; he let me know that he was ahead of Damon, but the two Andys from our club were just ahead. After a little confusion about which direction to head in to leave, I headed off once more, through the pretty little village. Beddgelert was very busy with tourists as the time approached 11 in the morning. 11 miles in 1:49:42, at an average pace of 9:58 per mile.

The end of the beginning. Or, the beginning of the end. (Beddgelert to Pen-y-Pass)

From Beddgelert, the race continued to be mostly flat until the approach the Pen-y-Pass. The scenery was very different to the earlier stages; despite the dry spell, we were surrounded by lush greenery. We were running up the Afon Glaslyn valley, and went passed a couple of lakes, Llyn Dinas and Llyn Gwynant. Shortly after Beddgelert was the lowest point of the race, around 50 metres. Other than a brief bump around Llyn Gwynant, we only gained about 50 metres over the next 10 kilometres. Despite this, the terrain slowed us down from about mile 14, as the path twisted and turned through the trees and rocks. There were quite a few scrambles up and down steep rock formations, and there were a fair few stiles again. A feed station around mile 15 reminded me to take a gel, and put me pretty much back on track.

Just more lovely scenery.

 

Just before mile 18, the climbing starts. It sort of caught me off-guard. I’d driven past the Pen-y-Pass car park on my way to Llanberis the day before, and I had wondered about how high it already was. Apparently, I never developed this thought to really work out that there would be a fair bit of climbing before the Pen-y-Pass feed station (and cut-off, though I was well ahead of that spectre). In fact, we had to climb about 250 metres just to get to Pen-y-Pass and the start of the Pyg Track. Mile 19 was that climb; the first of four miles of it. And it was one of the most significant; 756 feet (~250 metres) in one mile. Everyone slowed to a walk – one person joked that it was like something out of a war film, with everyone trudging along, snaking up the path as far as we could see. That didn’t make it any easier – we could see quite how much further up we had to go – just to get to Pen-y-Pass.

Up, and more up. And this is before even hitting the mountain proper.

It was a relief to reach Pen-y-Pass and refill my water, which had been getting pretty low. Sadly, with the trauma of the climbing, I forgot to have anything to eat – technically it was too early, but given how much I’d had to slow, I should have done anyway. Pen-y-Pass was the last checkpoint before the finish line; 19 miles, 3:33:29 at an average pace of 11:14 per mile.

Can I please just give up? (Snowdon ascent)

The Pyg Track is often described as the prettiest route up Snowdon. It is one of the more popular, as it is also the shortest (assuming you start in the car park, and not 19 miles previous in Llanberis…) It is not however, the easiest. According to walkupsnowdon.co.uk, it “can be steep and rocky in places”. Yes. Quite. No one was even remotely considering running, and we were frequently slowing right down to clamber up some of the trickier climbs. It was amazing, let me be clear about that. Had I not already run pretty much as far as I’d ever run before, I’d probably have loved it. As it was, I’d already been climbing for a mile, knew that I had a fair bit left, and was getting fed up. It didn’t help that I didn’t remember exactly how much I had left. I recalled that the summit was somewhere around either 22.5 or 23.5 miles in, but couldn’t remember which. So I couldn’t even console myself by counting down the distance.

Mile 20 took 24:19, followed by mile 21 in 20:12 – there were actually a few points during this mile when I was able to run! Well, sort of. My this stage I was really struggling with basically everything. My groin or quads (I couldn’t really pinpoint which) were struggling with the big steps needed at times, and my calves and hamstrings weren’t too happy either. I sat down for an actual break at about 19.8 miles, and then repeated this again at 20.6, 21.1 and 21.8 miles.

Tough going.

Frankly, my head was broken. I didn’t want to keep going. I’d already gone further than I’d ever been before, and the walking was really demoralising me. I’m a runner – I train to run, I like – heck, no – love to run. And yet, for a few miles, and for more yet, I was just walking. Trudging really, not really walking at all. If there had been a feasible way to stop, to give in, I’d have probably taken it. As it was, I was halfway up a mountain. I had to either walk back down, or walk the rest of the way up. I could hardly sit there and demand Mountain Rescue come and take me off the mountain. So, on I went.

The views though!

I kept on going. And going. And going. Thankfully, my estimates for the summit (well, where the Pyg Track meets the Llanberis Path, which is as far as we went) were off, and we actually got there at mile 22. There was a photographer near the top, and I’ve not included any of the photos – the backdrop is stunning, but I was… not. My efforts at a smile and thumbs up are quite amusing though! For the record, mile 22 included 983 feet of elevation, and it took me 30:58!

Down Snowdon back to Llanberis (to the finish)

Normally, I’d have gobbled up the downhill; it was rocky and fun. However, I had no legs left to work with, and very little energy. I knew by this point that I’d messed up my food, and although I’d tried to have a sandwich halfway up, I just manage it. I’d ran out of water on the climb, and the drink station wasn’t until a mile into the descent. But, importantly, I knew that having made the climb, I could definitely finish.

I once again made full use of the drinks station, having two cups of water, and refilling my water bottle up completely. I tried to then spur myself on down the hill, but truth be told, I just had nothing left. I ended up running with the half marathon sweeper for a fair while – I think he must have sensed my despair! We chatted for a little while about the race, and running in the area generally, before he stopped to talk to some marshals and I continued on. For about two and a half miles after the drinks station, we dropped down the Llanberis Path before it deposited us on the road. I was unusually happy to see the road, and the regularity it brought with it – my muscles were fed up with variable terrain.

Spurred on by a runner who passed me, I managed to put on a bit more speed down into Llanberis. Thankfully, I remembered from the blog posts I’d read that the course didn’t head straight to the finish, but took a right-hand turn to approach the finish from the other side. I assume this has something to do with traffic management, but even knowing it was coming, it was pretty hard to cope with being diverted away from the finish when you’d already run 26.2 miles! Still, a wiggle through some trees, and an annoying little climb, and then I was into the meadow next to the race village. And then into the finishing funnel – which went on bit longer than I would have liked!

Nearly, nearly, nearly there.

Then, finally, I rounded the corner, and could see the finish. Damon, who I discovered had been forced to drop out, was right by the finish, and I’ve rarely been happier to see a friendly face and have a high five towards the end of a race.

You know what, I don’t even remember what my finishing time was. It doesn’t really matter. It was a bloody difficult course. It was my first marathon. It went over a bloody mountain. I survived – physically, mentally (just about). But, for the record, it was 5:46:28, an average pace of 12:48 for the whole thing. Pen-y-Pass to the finish was an average of 16:20.

Looking more or less how I felt.

I think this is plenty long enough for the moment – I’ll post about my reflections on the race later in the week.

Ballot luck

by Ben

Way back in late 2015, I entered my first (and for a long time my only) ballot for a race. The race in question was the 2016 Grizzly, a reasonably well-known 20 (ish) mile trail race in the south west. I don’t know what the odds were in that ballot, but I got a place while plenty of my fellow club members did not. I had 100% success in ballots! As things turned out, I got injured and transferred my place to club-mate Iain.

BALLOT LUCK: 1/1 (100%)

I’ve never been that interested in running the Great North Run (a pretty boring looking half marathon which is bloody miles away) and the London Marathon didn’t really appeal to me either – as I typically run in races with very small fields (often less than 150 people) the scale put me off. That’s not even considering the fact that it’s a marathon, a distance that I’d long been putting off.

I didn’t enter any of the three ballots in 2016; the impending arrival of child #2 in spring 2017 put something of a stop to major racing plans.

Then, earlier this year, I made something of a mistake. After watching the London Marathon on TV, and getting caught up in the excitement, I subsequently entered the ballot. I’d always said that I wouldn’t enter until I could get a ‘Good for age’ (GFA) time. Which is 3:05 for a 18-40 male. Indeed, for some time my (very) long-term plan has been to get a Boston qualifying time (also 3:05 for a 18-40 male). But for some reason, I ignored this, and opted to enter the London Marathon ballot anyway. “I’ll put myself in the hands of the ballot gods.” I said. I didn’t actually really want to do the London Marathon, but the odds seemed so small…

Ballot entry mostly forgotten, I then entered my “first marathon”, the 2018 Snowdonia Trail Marathon, the day before my birthday in July. I told people all about it; that it would be my first marathon. All about my plan to do a tough trail marathon before a road one, as it would take away the time pressure – completing it would genuinely be enough of an achievement.

And then, one Monday at work, I got an excited phone call from Lolly, asking if she could open some of my post. I was a bit confused. Then it became clear. Oh so horribly clear.

Oh Jason…

As I said at the time on social media: Oh. Bollocks.

I still don’t know if I really want to run the London Marathon at the moment, but I don’t think I really have a choice. I put myself in the hands of the ballot gods, and they gave me a clear answer. Also, half of the members of my club seem to have entered the ballot, and as far as I can tell, I’m the only one who got in. (Though quite a few have GFA places.)

BALLOT LUCK: 2/2 (100%)

Push the clock forwards by a week, and my third ballot result came back – for the Grizzly 2018; a race that takes place one month before the London Marathon. And the result? Success, again.

BALLOT LUCK: 3/3 (100%)

So, my ballot luck is pretty good. Of course, as well as a 100% success rate in ballots, I currently hold a 0% success rate in subsequently running the race I got a ballot place for. Given the current state of my ankle means that I’m still not running, I haven’t ruled out the possibility of this trend continuing. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve got over six months until London, and not dramatically less than that for the Grizzly; but coming back from a bad ankle sprain means it’s likely to be a long and slow road back to full running fitness.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I do enter the National Lottery; every week. And my luck is appalling.