Is it time I retired from marathon running?

Why this year's London Marathon may be my last.

As we sat in a restaurant after the London Marathon this year, I declared to my partner and my friend Cathy that I wasn’t going to run any more marathons. I’ve run 23 marathons now, including five London Marathons and two ultras. To quote Mariah Carey when she was asked if she would go to space like Katy Perry “I think I’ve done enough'“.

But first, let’s rewind a few hours. Usually before a marathon, I get really wound up. I’m nervous and irritable, and generally not much fun to be around. But not this year. Having a couple of niggles that had disrupted training had weirdly taken the pressure off. I didn’t expect big things from the race, in fact I wasn’t 100% sure I would even finish, so I wasn’t putting undue pressure on myself.

Instead, I had my partner and son with me as I travelled down to London on the Saturday. We visited Finsbury Park where I used to coach my running groups, and visited the playgrounds my son used to play in four years ago before we moved. I met up with my former neighbour who used to come to my run group, and then I headed to a PR even to pick up some kit.

I had a relaxed dinner with my family, an early night and I slept well. On Sunday morning I headed to the train, met up with my friend Cathy and hung around at the Blue Start. I wasn’t nervous, maybe because of the familiarity of this well-rehearsed pre-marathon routine, or maybe because I had nothing to prove.

How the race unfolded

I ran the first 5k with my friend Cathy who had also had injuries that had kept her from training properly. Somewhere around 4 miles she dropped back to take a gel and I carried on. I was running a fairly comfortable pace, trying to be sensible given the heat and my niggles.

Amazingly, neither my hip or my knee gave me any complaint during the race and they’ve been better than they were before it ever since. But as we neared 12 miles, I started to struggle. My stomach wasn’t feeling great, the water stations felt like they took forever to arrive, my ankles ached and my hamstrings were ready to check out.

I had a walk break then began running again, ready to see my friend Josie on Tower Bridge. She offered me a beer but this year I declined - I didn’t trust my stomach. Tower Bridge was as amazing as ever, but I spent the next mile debating with myself whether I should continue. I lived in Wapping for six months back in 2012, so I knew exactly where the Overground and DLR stations were and how easy it would be to step off the course and go home.

I wanted so badly just to stop running and questioned why I was doing it. I’d already done 22 marathon, did I really need to do another one?

The mental battle to finish

I’m not someone who would push through genuine pain or illness to finish a marathon. So I asked myself two questions: is anything actually wrong with you, and can you carry on? The answer was always no and yes, so I shuffled forwards.

I thought about my son who would be at the finish. I had dragged him and his dad down to London and while I’d planned them a fun weekend in London (they went to the Science Museum rather than standing out waiting for me to go past) they were here because of me. I didn’t want to turn up without a medal.

After the longest 9 miles of my life, and drinking several bottles of water, my pace picked up again. The last three miles I felt like I was running properly again and enjoyed overtaking a few people. Every time I had gone over a timing mat during the race I had waved at it and said “hello mum” because I knew she’d be at home watching the tracker until she knew I was safely home.

As I ran onto The Mall, I took my cap off, looked up at the finish line camera and blew my family a kiss. My mum later told me that she and my dad blew one back. I collected my medal and headed off to show my son.

No more marathons for now

“Can we have that in writing?” asked my partner when I said I wasn’t doing another. “Definitely no more until I’m 50” I clarified. “And no more London Marathons”.

I have loved and hated London Marathon. It was the reason I started running, and the reason I wanted to get faster so that I could qualify. I’ve also had some really tough races there. It’s definitely something you can’t fully appreciate until you’ve run it. But it can also be very overwhelming.

I feel lucky to have run it five times now. But I don’t feel the need to do it again. And I promised myself at mile 13 that I wouldn’t put myself (or my family) through it again. There are still plenty of challenges to chase in running without a marathon being one of them.