Published: My marathon advice for David Lloyd members

As published on David Lloyd

Craig Norris

Marathon level: Seasoned

Running shoes: Saucony Kinvara

Next Marathon: London Marathon April 2017

Favourite Marathon: The Picnic Marathon

Best time: 2:57

Charity of choice: Alzheimer’s Society (Each year I make a point of raising funds for them as my girlfriend’s father has the disease)

Money Raised: £3,000+

What is your top tip for marathon day?

Take on nutrition early and regularly. In those first miles into your run you won’t feel the need to consume much but you must (60g of carbohydrate per hour is a fair guideline). Think of your body as a steam engine, requiring constant fueling, if it’s to successfully complete that 26.2 mile journey.

How do you train for a marathon? Do you have any inside tips?

Nowadays I race often and aim to run each and every day, so my body is marathon ready at all times. A few weeks out I’ll lower the mileage and up the pace so that I’m fresh and sharp for the event. This takes time though and for many years I would have specific training efforts when approaching a marathon. I always took a relaxed but committed approach to my training, running regularly – say three or four times a week – though with no pressure on a set distance. My advice would be to incorporate speedwork – be it a track session or fartlek – with one ‘long’ run each week in amongst some gentle jogs. It’s important to remain enthused so don’t put yourself under too much pressure with a strict, set routine.

What is your favourite moment from a past marathon?

I run a lot of trail marathons where the views at certain points are simply breathtaking. The view from Box Hill during the Picnic Marathon and the descent from Beachy Head within sight of the marathon finish line are of particular mention. Taking the final turn onto The Mall at last year’s London Marathon with 2:56 on the watch was a very special moment too with my family in the stands.

How do you motivate yourself when you are struggling with training and on the day?

If you’re struggling on a particular day for motivation to get out there and run, give yourself the day off. What you’ll hopefully find is that by dropping that session your hunger to run the following day will skyrocket. I would also suggest making your race plans public so that you have an accountability to cross the finish line. Additionally, try to hold an image in your head of what ‘success’ looks like to you – be that the finish-line itself or cracking a time goal – knowing that the more you put in the more you’ll get out. That’s the brilliance of running.

What do you wish you had known before your first marathon?

That it doesn’t end there at 26.2 miles. When you see something as the ‘ultimate challenge’ it makes it seem all the more unsurmountable. If I had known then that people participate in 100+ mile ultra-marathons I’d have seen my first marathon as a stepping-stone rather than a mountain.

What inspired you to run marathons?

I’d never really given marathon running a thought to be honest growing up. There was no one that I knew that had ever run one, or at least to my knowledge. It wasn’t until my girlfriend had worn her knee cartilage away after a succession of marathons, of which she had always enjoyed, that I decided to take the baton so to speak and see what all the fuss was about.

What is the hardest part of training?

I guess for many it would be the time commitment. It’s not just the hours spent plodding along, but also the getting ready, the additional eating, the washing…oh the washing. I’m fortunate to both live and work in London so my commute is easily run-able, time that would be otherwise idle.

What was the hardest part of your first marathon? People talk about hitting the wall… did this happen to you?

My first marathon was the Beachy Head Marathon, where the route is entirely on trail and littered with hills, steps and stiles. Only the front runners have the steam to run non-stop from start to finish, so the majority are forced to stop and walk at certain points throughout. Additionally, the aid stations also provide a bounty of food and drink so your body is well fueled and your pace is markedly slower. The hardest part of that first marathon was climbing hill after hill along the coastline after mile 20 with spent legs – the descent being as painful as the ascent.

You’ll hit the wall if you’re running too fast or have been off on your nutrition. Keep these in check and you’ll run right through to the finish line. That’s easier said than done if it’s your first marathon, but hey this’ll come at mile 18-20 so there won’t be far to go!

What piece of advice did you wish you listened to?

I think I would have been a faster runner today if I had joined a running club. For all the drive and commitment in the world you will always run that little bit faster when those around you are pushing you forward.

I’ll definitely join one this year!

Follow Craig on Instagram or read his beginner runners blog post.

GOOD LUCK CRAIG!

Three Forts Challenge

I awoke early Sunday morning for what was technically an ultra but let's cut the s***, more an overzealous marathon - though foggy judgement would later make more of an ultra of it than I had at first hoped. As is the norm on race day my mind was equal parts excitement and trepidation, but for once more the mileage to and from, not of the race itself. The 160 mile round trip would be the first drive of my new car, so fittingly the aim of the day was to make it around unscathed.

Fortunately...sorry frustratingly, there had been a mix up with the car insurance in so far as I was the only one covered. Therefore my beloved girlfriend would not be able to drive (the new shiny car) around the course to support me en route. Along country lanes, around blind corners, through narrow sections of road, none of this would be possible. The car would then have to stay where I parked it. In the undisturbed safety of the car park. Such a shame!

Joking aside, she never misses a race and is just the best support a runner could wish for. When she tweets notice of early rises and wet and windy days out supporting her boyfriend's endeavours for self-worth, I can imagine those reading are thinking, "god that poor girl". As though I'm in some way dragging her out by her ponytail. I am not, it is all done willingly. Isn't it woman! 

The automatic wipers taking a break

Driving down, the weather was ghastly. Wet, windy, foggy, grey, very English. No big whoop for me as a runner, you got to love those elements, but I did feel for my girlfriend having to wait around for four hours in a sports ground in Worthing. Oh well, added impetus to crack on and get a sub-four. 

Upon arrival, dashing for cover at the registration tent, it dawned on me (not for the first time) that I don't in fact own a waterproof running jacket. Everyone around me was wearing one and I couldn't help but question myself. Was it because I'm the world's greatest procrastinator and every time I search 'waterproof jackets' on-line, I can't part with £100+ for something I don't have much use for in Central London (please ignore the £100 Salomon S-Lab race vest below - boy needs water when he's running) or was it simply that I feel no need to have one? Looking around again, everyone was wearing trail shoes bar me, I guess because this was clearly a trail marathon. Surprisingly these omissions made me a tad anxious, having not run the course before, I questioned whether I was being lackadaisical about the race conditions. Oh well, into the unknown and calmed by the old pre-race start adage 'Do not compare your insides with the outsides of those around you' (we're not talking intestines vs facial features here) I made way to commence. 

Sans trail shoes and a waterproof jacket ahead of the wet trail race

The field was fairly small with around 300 marathoners. Despite the conditions the mood was relatively upbeat (whenever is it not with runners?) and with a jolly countdown from the race representatives the herd made their way across the grass to begin the 3km climb to the brilliantly named Cissbury Ring. Single file for most of the way, I was happy to sit back and get accustomed to the slippery clay surface, keeping to a pace one would aim for at Beachy Head, a race of similar ascent. 

Head down and concentrated for 27 miles of hills

On the first descent it was the usual story where runners tore passed me at breakneck speed, I myself holding back and conserving the impact on my quads. On the ascent I'd catch them up and take them ahead of the next descent. It seems to work for me to ease up running downhill, keeping the legs fresh and being able to climb strongly where running strides are more controlled going up than coming down. I tend to perform well in the later stages of marathons/ultras, passing those from earlier miles. Whether I can get away with pushing it more at the start is something I'm looking to experiment with though. My humble gains in running over recent years have come about in part from race experience, knowing what pace to run at and how to best approach the ups and downs both physically and mentally. I'm still learning, I doubt I'll ever stop.

Quite a hilly one

The course was primarily an out-and-back (to Devil's Dyke - again brilliant nameage) with a loop in between, which allowed for position counting as those in front passed by from the turn-a-round at eleven miles. Foggy as it was I calculated myself to be in 25th position, knowing that I generally have a strong second half, this was all very exciting. The aid station volunteers I must mention were heroic that day, the conditions up on the downs were unforgiving, much tougher to handle when standing around dishing out jelly babies.

Running back toward the Adur River was refreshingly downhill though rather blustery. Passing those running in the opposite direction, it was difficult to acknowledge their well wishing and support, forced into a grimacing head-down demeanour. Feeling fresh, sixteen miles clocked by nicely as the route took us around the loop for an incredible climb to Chanctonbury. 

The girlfriend passing the time artfully with a well deserved nap in the car

With June's 100 miler vast approaching, it was a good opportunity to familiarise with part of the South Downs Way I'll be covering between mile 55 and 65 of that race. In reality, such was the limited visibility I am none-the-wiser for having ran it at Three Forts. Again, such was the visibility that I really do hope that the following does not happen again on this stretch of the route come June. I wouldn't think I'll have the mental clarity to deal with such a mishap after 100km of running!

Since the turn-a-round I had kept up counting down my position as I passed runners, and come mile nineteen, I had myself in 15th place. Out on my own, and with all the decision making to be made on what paths to take, I made an error and found myself running down a narrow trail that just didn't seem right. As I progressed with thoughts of 'to turn-around or not to turn-around' I thought best to just keep going in search of a runner, but one didn't show itself. Now a good half mile or so down the trail I came across some Sunday strollers who when asked, advised that they'd not been passed by any runners. Aaaargh! Thanking them for confirmation, I turned and sprinted the way I'd come to find myself back out at the crossroads I'd wrongly assessed, with a group of runners passing me by. What a douche...

Mentally this killed my mojo having been on for, who knows, close to top ten-ing and a very comfortable sub-four, I was just furious with myself. The wasted energy from the extra mile or so, and speedy retreat hadn't helped either. After a couple of miles of being a brat, I calmed down with the knowledge that such a setback had been a useful experience and something that I'd have to deal with far better if this were a longer race.

Still on to crack four hours I pushed ahead, made up a couple of places, though finally finished rather fittingly at 4:00:22 - what a plank! The dejection was rather evident as I crossed the line.

F***, s***, what a c***

Self-pity aside, the Three Forts Challenge was incredible. In a world of corporate money-spinning events, at £25 this race could possibly be the best running pennies can buy. I'll certainly be back next year with a laminated OS map and compass!

The car proving a trusty crew vehicle - For its seating, shelter and wipeability

Three Forts Challenge 2015 / 04:00:22 / 27th place (maybe 13th without the mishap)

nohtaraM nodnoL ehT

Runners are an eccentric bunch. Over the past few years as I've ventured into Ultra running and become more aware of what folk get up to in their trainers, very little surprises me now. The distances, the routes, the ideas that are conjured and subsequently conquered are of great inspiration to me. I first came across nohtaraM ehT a couple of years back, such was the randomness of the event my brain didn't quite absorb the concept and with exhalation and a smile it passed me by. When it came around last year, it clashed with another race I had already entered - The London Marathon - so I vowed that 2015 would be the year of the reversal.

A ghastly morning

Alarm set for 2 a.m. (2:15 for the girlfriend - I allowed her a lay-in) I sprang sprightly having had only a couple of hours shallow sleep. Questioning the point of breakfast, three hours after dinner, I went for it anyway with a little coffee and porridge. With bags packed the night before (well done Craig) and clothing set out ready to slip into we were out the door faster than you can spell The London Marathon backwards. God love the girlfriend, offering to drop me off at St. James Park in the pissing rain at silly o'clock. With the road closures around The Mall (The London Marathon's finishing stretch) I was dropped off in the shadows of Big Ben. Head down, I scurried towards the park searching for hi vis and lycra where a Marshal directed me across the street to a dozen or so bodies huddled together under a doorway. Exchanging pleasantries and introductions we awaited the final runners for the 4 a.m. group, the last of the night. 

I must buy a running hat

As the clock struck four, we lined up on the road for the ceremonious photo and without further ado we were off...for the start line. No M People, just the four chimes of Big Ben. I was unsure of the correct running etiquette to apply. Would I just run at my own pace, would I remain with the group, would I strike up conversation, would I lead, would I follow? Would it ever stop raining? 

Fifth from left in a sea of enthusiasm

I found myself running alongside a chatty young chap who spoke of his ultra tales, in particular his experience of GUCR (a 145 mile race from Birmingham to London) a race I one day hope to complete. I was in my element, doing running and talking running. We swapped tales (his far bigger than mine) as we ran through the city toward Docklands, a route I run most weekdays, alone.  For such a ghastly hour I was quite talkative (I usually thaw around noon). 

Nobody it would seem knows that awkward Canary Wharf bit off by heart, especially backwards. For easy navigation it had been decided that we would 'simply' keep to the blue lines, those laid down for the elite's benefit. Well, in the dank dark night they were barely visible and collectively we right royally f***ed up. Leaving The Highway, we entered the Docklands on the non-backwards route and ran our own little course, each too English to disagree. Where some had dropped back to christen the portaloos, the group fractured into smaller packs. Running in different directions we passed runners from earlier start times, they themselves unfamiliar with it all. Dejected by our omission, we agreed to make the mileage up with an additional add-on loop before heading for Tower Bridge. 

Men at work at Tower Bridge

The organiser (Rich Cranswick) had incredibly managed to lay on an aid station on Tower Bridge at half-way. This was a godsend as I had somehow decided a handheld bottle would be sufficient for the day, so the top-up was much needed. Later, I heard tales of cheese and pineapple on sticks that I had unknowingly passed up. It may have been too early for party food though regardless.

Now light, though not quite six in the morning (oh all this time I've been wasting asleep) a foursome headed off for the second half south of the river. From that point onward it was rather a head down and concentrated affair, though with a slower recreational pace there was no discomfort at any point. After the loop at Surrey Quays I found myself all but alone which was kind of nice, whilst passing and greeting those from earlier starts. The southerly stretch to Greenwich was particularly familiar having spent many a grim evening during February's RUYD event racking up miles there. Free from the pressures of time and pace the miles clocked up and arrival at the Red Start was soon in my sights.

Mile 6 aka Mile 20

I had imagined running through mile markers to hoards of water station helpers manically setting up for the impending mass of runners, but it simply wasn't the case. Such is the VLM's logistical genius that it all comes together in an instant. Much of the roads were yet to be closed and it wasn't until gone 20 miles in that even the chance of a cheeky bottle steal was possible - not that I ever would. Proof of my utilitarianism was evident in a mile 24 detour to a petrol garage for liquids. Poor girl having to take a sweaty ten pound note as payment. Man, if I dropped those bottles on the forecourt once, I dropped them thrice. The CCTV footage should be destroyed.

The first mile marker, as lonely as it gets

The twist in the tail was had those final couple of miles as what was a downhill start for the main, was an uphill finish for little old me. Passing marshals and marathoners with their drop-bags, I received a few strange looks from those clearly perplexed by this drowned young man looking like he'd ran a marathon! Surely not. Crossing the 'finish' line and stopping the Garmin at 26.2 miles (textbook) there was no applause nor recognition of any kind. What a brilliant thing to have done.

Oh the fanfare

For me, running this eccentric little event, is everything I cherish about being a runner. Whilst I continue to push myself to run further and faster, the real delight of it all is the ability to 'just' go run a marathon. Fortunate as I am to have an able body that stands up to the rigour of long distance running, I take great pride in the training I've put in over the years to reach such a level of fitness. 

There were still a good two hours before the mass start and it dawned on me that this was without doubt the earliest I'd 'arrived' for a race - A few years back, running the Snowdonia Marathon I crossed the start line ten minutes after the gun. God love chip timing! - Aware of my sogginess, I headed for a thankfully queue-less set of portaloos where I set up stall for a wet-wipe-whores bath and change of clothes. Refreshed, dry and warm I headed to a greasy spoon by the Cutty Sark to meet up with the crew for a fry-up and cuppa. Catching up on the day's experience had by others and plans for future races, I later headed to mile 20 to help out at a water station. 

The elite ladies zooming past

In the end it seemed over-staffed and reeling from the realisation that I had in fact been overcharged £9.45 for what was a £5.45 breakfast (still reeling if truth be told) I chose to spectate and natter with the marshals for an hour or two as the elites and faster runners (including Paula) passed through. The low temperatures, brilliant for runners, but standing around I began to get the shivers so took this as excuse to wrap up the day and I ran the three miles home in show-off glee.

If I get a place in the London Marathon proper next year, I may just do the double. Though there have been rumours of a nohtaraM ehT double itself, so that would then offer a triple. Hmmm...

My thanks goes out to all who contributed to the organisation and running of this year's event. You are all two sandwiches short of a picnic.

What To Pack For A Marathon

Running is quite a simple practice. Push off on one foot and reach a speed of locomotion that one can maintain for a set period, and there you have it - you are running. It is this simplicity that governs there is little need for equipment. An activity where even footwear is optional.

Steve Jones - Simple

The photo above shows a victorious Steve Jones breaking the marathon world record in Chicago in 1984 with a time of 2:08:05. Notice what he is wearing; a vest, shorts and (out of picture) socks and trainers. That is all, and things haven't really changed since. 

Ok, for us non-elites we do need a little extra to get us through 26.2 miles and to support us pre and post-race, but not to the point of excess.

Too much - Put down the banana

Assuming one is preparing for a 'standard' marathon in terms of climate, elevation and terrain, I prescribe the following exhaustive (male centric) packing list:

Pre race/admin:

- Essential

• Registration documents
• Identification
• Bag drop
• Race number
• Safety pins
• Electrolytes/Water
• Vaseline

- Optional

• Banana/Energy bar - Those last minute carbs

- Just No

• Painkillers - Dangerous! And if you need them, should you be running?
• That funny coloured tape - Runners survived before it came along

The race:

- Essential

• Trainers - Worn in
• Socks
• Underwear - Genitalia friendly
• Shorts
• Vest/T-shirt
• Bottle/Gel belt - I find holding a gel in each hand removes tension

- Optional

• Base layer - Eradicates chaffing (I swear by them)
• Watch/GPS - Essential for pace checking
• Sunglasses - Not only for the obvious, but aids focus
• Visor/Cap - Keep your sweat at bay
• Gloves - Lightweight option if cold. Also great for wiping sweat (and snot)
• Compression socks

- Just No

• Music/Headphones - Running is the escape
• 26 gels - If they're circumnavigating your waist then you have too many
• Jacket - Unless teeming down with rain. You will warm up, I promise

Post race:

- Essential

• Warm clothing
• Towel
• Toiletries
• Tissues
• Bin liners
• Nutrition
• Fluids

Post race there really isn't any 'optional' or 'just no' items, you've just run a marathon. Well done!

Actually, one item for that 'just no' header - don't do that 'I'm never running a marathon again' thing. You know you will.

Race Day: Beachy Head Marathon

The last Saturday of October, the final day of British Summer Time marks the annual running of the Beachy Head Marathon. A race that started it all and one that I've attended every year (bar injury) since 2006. From supporter to five time finisher, this is one day of the year I truly cherish.

I awoke rather sprightly and with bags prepared the night before, it was a quick porridge, coffee and bowel check before setting off in darkness toward the south coast. The weather forecast could not have been kinder and when dawn did break it broke gloriously.

First light

All safety pinned up and chipped, with the usual motherly advice from the girlfriend of "eat some more banana", I was all set and joined the front of the pack to escape the hill traffic. The start of the Beachy Head Marathon is nuts - though not quite as nuts as the Picnic - with a colossal hill marking the first few hundred metres, it really is a sign of things to come. The clock struck nine and away we went.

Up on the first hill overlooking the start/finish line

The 'out and back' route map

It's a very difficult race to pace given the hilly profile. The approach I take is to run the uphill, hold back on the downhill and nigh on flat-out on anything resembling level ground. I kept to this rather well and inevitably it was only at the very end (Seven Sisters and Beachy Head herself) where I had to walk the steeper climbs.

New version: Route profile and checkpoints 

Old version: Wasn't life sweet before technology

Broken down per checkpoint, the race went as follows:

CP1 / 09:35 / 0-7k / Total elevation Gain/Loss of 186/169m 

Probably for the first year I ran the initial hill such was my desire to push for a 'competitive' time, but as always ran cautious and concentrated on damage limitation knowing just how tough the final six miles are. Everyone at this stage is quite chatty and full of beans and in my opinion many set off far too quickly. A tough little up-up-up, down-down-down section with the first water station in sight before you know it.

Power those arms

CP2 / 10:12 / 7-14k / Total elevation Gain/Loss of 214/212m

The run to checkpoint two involves a considerable amount of incline/decline with two notable climbs. Here the route gets muddy or 'fun' however you see it. For those in road shoes (me) it is quite a job staying on two feet. I was feeling really nimble on the climbs even though still early into the race, there was zero grimacing and I was in good spirits.

CP3 / 10:45 / 14-20k / Total elevation Gain/Loss of 188/103m

After a banana and various coloured drinks, it was next to the halfway-ish point of Bostal Hill. Here I would see my girlfriend (beloved support crew) for the first time with instructions to have spare trainers, nutrition, fluids and encouragement ready should I require any - she's brilliant. The exit from checkpoint two is a mud slide and sets you off down a slippery slope (literally) before a long drawn out climb for the remainder of the third section. I chugged along at a decent click feeling comfortable knowing this would be the highest point of the race. The weather 'up there' can be a little blowy but for this year it was absolutely perfect - mild, dry and calm. I hit 20k in an hour 45 and after the briefest of moments I said ta-ta to the girlfriend, with a re-filled Camelbak for the second half.

Preparing for a quick refill at CP3

Heading off for the fast descent of Bostal Hill

CP4 / 11:21 / 20-27k / Total elevation Gain/Loss of 54/166m

I'll learn one day that there really is no point trying to stomach a Snickers en route in a race. I'll also learn one day that holding it for 5k in my hand before trying to stomach it will just be a terribly messy affair. Hopefully I have now learnt. Other than that, the run to checkpoint four is basically a 'weeeeeeeeee!' moment, being entirely downhill. I was clocking some pleasant sub-five kilometres which was vastly improving my average speed and suggesting a tidy ETA in to Eastbourne. Nice and easy I reached the village of Litlington and the fourth checkpoint, ready to run the tough stuff.

CP5 / 12:14 / 27-36k / Total elevation Gain/Loss of 356/393m

The farthest distance between checkpoints together with just short of 400m of incline/decline, makes this a very tough section. Directly after leaving the checkpoint you are met by a fierce winding hill before a mean staircase of uneven steps spits you out of the forest. I managed to at the very least fast-walk these. Before hitting the Seven Sisters there is a long incline offering the most spectacular views of the Cuckmere river. It is really all you can do but stop and stare - one day I really must slow down and enjoy the views. Previously I have had to fall back to a walk at this stage of the race but no such thought this time around. My legs felt strong and responsive and I took the Sisters in my stride. The views up there never cease to amaze me. 

Coming in to Birling Gap - the final checkpoint

FIN / 12:44 / 36-42k / Total elevation Gain/Loss of 159/124m

My girlfriend lovingly awaiting me at Birling Gap with just six kilometres to Eastbourne. This final run to the finish can either be hell or joy simply by way of how you are feeling mentally. My spirits were up, all that I took on were some fluids and away I went. The route follows the road along the coast and as is now customary, my girlfriend will drive by honking the horn - hopefully keeping her eyes on the road! Mentally you are beginning to switch off and making simple calculations becomes overly difficult. I eventually worked out that I could get a sub 3:45 here if I kept at it, and limited any walking. The climb to Beachy Head never seems to end and this can be quite slow going, but thereafter it is a downhill sprint for a good kilometre plus. 

There really aren't many moments in life that equal the exhilaration equal to those final steps to crossing the line.  Cresting the top of the hill, with hoards of supporters and volunteers applauding your arrival and accomplishment is truly special. I had a good pace coming down off the hill and a check of the watch confirmed that I'd be good for time. Back on tarmac, with clenched fists and gritted teeth I was ecstatic having bettered my time of last year by 12 minutes as I hit the finish line.

Hunched over in the finishing area two ladies came up to me and asked excitedly for my age - a bizarre request I thought. It happened that they were awaiting the first 18-20 year old for a special award that was being presented. Chuffed by their enquiry, I was honest and confirmed respectively that I was a little north of that particular age range. Thank you ladies.

Note the sprint as I see I've 5 seconds till 3:45

One of the benefits of finishing higher up is that all is a lot calmer around the finish line and there is peace in the changing rooms. It has now been 2 years that I have finished fast enough to catch 7-time winner Stuart Mills after the race. Last weekend I got chatting to him and asked just how he runs such ridiculous times. Apparently you run everything. Certainly sounds simple.

Medal shot

Beachy Head Marathon 2014 / 03:44:53 / 70th place

Congratulations goes to my girlfriend's cousin Dan Brooks, who having come to support me in 2013, was so inspired as to enter this year for his first marathon. Brilliant to see you finish with a smile and glad to hear you'll be running again next year! 

Images: www.robin-web.co.uk/beachyhead/

Check out these videos (A detailed account or a brief overview) of the race for further insight.