London Marathon race report - Craig Burrows

Coached athlete Craig Burrows raced the London Marathon a few weeks ago, he was chasing a PB and the illusive sub-3 marathon, here's his thoughts on the day!

I still remember turning the corner at the Mall in 2015 thinking I had just pulled off one of the biggest endurance coups of all time, before seeing 3:00:44 on my timing chip. I was so close to going under 3 hours without ever expecting to. I took a gamble that day and it nearly paid off. 

So.... Here we were again.... London Marathon 2017. This year however it had a vastly different aura emanating from it. After narrowly missing out in 2015 I had one clear goal. This time there would be no gambling, I had to go under 3 hours. I wanted it so much.

Preparation: My physical preparation for London was left firmly in the hands of Coach (Mark). He knew my 2017 goals and a sub 3 hour London Marathon was paramount. Mark had to structure my training in such a way that I could incorporate enough running to achieve a sub-3 London whilst not completely neglecting my bike and swimming fitness for Ironman Hamburg, a difficult task given the magnitude of my ambition. We roughly settled on a training week that looked similar to the one below. This meant football had to go, at least until after the marathon.

Mon	Tue	Wed	Thurs	Fri	Sat	Sun
Swim	Easy Run	Swim	Easy Run	Turbo	Easy Run	Long Run
Turbo		Speedy Run

 

The run training involved in achieving a personal best is, as the term indicates, very personal. Some athletes can get away with doing minimal mileage and see big gains, others have to put in the big miles to eek out just a couple of seconds on race day. I think I fall somewhere in the middle. The months of January to March followed a very similar structure to the week above but progressed to more race specific and longer sessions as we approached April.

During the big weeks I would be racking up between 55-65miles (90-105km), but on average it would fall very much in the 30-40miles region. Whilst this may seem like an awful lot of running to us triathletes, a quick google and a few forums later (I do love a forum) will reveal that weekly mileage of 90+ miles a week is the norm for someone aiming to complete a marathon in under 3 hours. For me, that volume of running would be far too demanding on both the body and mind, and in my opinion, simply isn't necessary. You have to still enjoy training after all. I’ve attached a geeky table to show the comparison in training volume for the two marathon years. 

	2015	2017
January	78 miles	111 miles
February	67 miles	197 miles
March	149 miles	162 miles
April	120 miles	107 miles

 

So with Mark taking care of the training I just had one thing to focus on, myself. I went (rarely) to Yoga and regularly (too often) indulged myself in the sadistic pleasures of a sports massage. These things helped a lot but in the back of my mind I felt that in order to run faster I had to be lighter. When I ran London back in 2015, I had a bit more muscle, I mean, I was never going to be Hulk Hogan or hold my own in the WWE ring but I had a bit more to me shall we say. This time I wanted to be leaner, so I started paying close attention to what I ate and made sure I prepared good food for the week ahead to stop me snacking. It worked, on race day I was the lightest I had been since I sat my A-levels. If anything was going to slow me down it certainly wasn’t going to be my weight.

With the bulk of the training out of the way (and the bulk of me for that matter) it was time to taper and 'soak up the fitness'. I'm not a good ‘taperer' (if that’s a term). I get twitchy, restless and don't have my exercise excuse for getting out of the house chores.

Race Day: I’m a creature of habit, Loz (my amazing girlfriend) often flippantly mutters that I possess certain attributes that need to be ‘medically examined’ but I just like routine and if something isn't right then I struggle to adapt. This is precisely what happened on race morning, for various reasons or another (100% nerves) I couldn't eat my breakfast, I couldn't have my double espresso and our planned train journey to the start was cancelled due to an incident on the line. This is not good for somebody like me. Despite my nose being put out of joint, we made it to the start line, albeit 60 minutes later than planned and still sans espresso.

 After the obligatory 'pen entrance selfie' Loz and I parted company and I made my way to the cattle enclosure. I was lacking my usual pre-race excitement and optimism, so much so that Loz didn’t say too much to me before she left, she didn’t need to, my fear and nerves were palpable so a muted departure seemed more fitting. My all-consuming nerves and self-imposed pressure had led me to change my pacing strategy umpteen times right up until the day before, combine that with a week of restless sleep and an unnerving morning then it was probably safe to say that this race 'got to me' a little. 

The Start: As the countdown reached its climax I knew I needed to relax otherwise this was going to be a long day. I took some deep breaths and duly pressed the Garmin to start what I hoped was the first second of a sub 3-hour marathon. My strategy (compounded by Richard Gardeners experienced words a few days’ prior) were to hit the first few miles slightly faster than my planned pace, then settle into a rhythm for the middle miles then dig deep, hold on and see how it went for the final 10k. What could go wrong? As it turns out, a fair bit. Nothing is smooth sailing in sport and rarely will you get 26.2 miles of calm waters. The first mile was more congested than I thought it was going to be, for some reason I thought good for age would mean clear roads from the outset but it quickly dawned on me that I would be sharing the same tarmac as 40,000 other runners. 

Miles 1-6: These are the most crucial miles, the 'hold it back Buzz' miles, the 'I feel fresh and want to push harder miles'. Sadly, not today, these miles turned out to be a real slog. From the get-go I always felt like I was having to push to hold that early pace. The first 3 miles are downhill and I had decided on 6:38 min/miles (4:07 min/km) for these. I hit my targets (just) but it wasn't as easy as I thought it was going to be and my legs felt heavy and weary. We merged with the other runners after 2 miles and it was like a 90's version of micro machines for the foreseeable future. I just don't remember it being that busy last time and I couldn't get into my stride until later on in the race but I tried my best to stick to the 'blue line of speed' and keep my pacing even. The ensuing 3 miles were a little slower than expected due to the congestion but well within my window for error so I wasn't too alarmed, but it wasn't ideal.

Miles 7-13: My nutrition strategy was a CNP gel every 4 miles with water to wash it down and a sip of water at every aid station if I needed it. I feel it necessary to mention the brand of gel because I have been using them since 2013. Yes, they aren't completely trouble free in terms of belly pain but I've never had any 'major' cramping issues or 'emergency' side effects. So, for me, they have worked. Today of all days my belly didn't want to play nice. From mile 5 I started to get a stitch, nothing major but it was bugging me. I persevered, industriously working to ensure the splits remained as close to 6:40 min/miles as possible. I thought to myself, 'this is hard, way harder than it should be'. It got worse, I was now approaching mile 10 and my belly was in agony, I had a serious case of the Gramps (Grandfield Cramps), never again will I take Granny’s belly complaints with a pinch of salt. 10 miles in his shoes was enough, I wanted to tap out. What the hell was I supposed to do? Did I need the toilet? Did I need to breath more regularly? All I did know was that I had to keep pumping out the miles at a speed that felt way too hard for me. I (stupidly) flicked over to my heart rate screen and it was showing 184 bpm. That is my average for a Half Marathon! It was showing no signs of dropping. Something clearly wasn't right. 

Miles 14-21: I haven't mentioned the support and the crowd yet because I genuinely couldn't focus on anything but my impending doom for the previous 90 minutes. Maybe I should have tried, it would have taken my mind off things. Cutty Sark, Burmondsy, Tower Bridge, they all passed without an ounce of emotion on my face. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. There was a moment when I passed Mord and Louise at mile 14, they were cheering and smiling and it wasn’t reciprocated, I was overjoyed to see them but couldn’t show it. I looked down at my watch as I completed mile 13 and it said 6:50 min/miles, my slowest of the day. This was not good enough for midway through a marathon and if I wasn't careful a Sub 3-hour time would be the least of my worries. I was capable of much better than what I was producing, my training told me that. I told myself so in no uncertain terms. "Sort yourself out Craig, MTFU or you'll be driving home very disappointed and worst of all.... No burger reward!" I took my heart rate monitor off as I was convinced it was causing the cramp and finally began to find the rhythm that I so desperately wanted. 14, 15, 16... the miles started to disappear and my pace came back down to what I wanted. Mile 19 was 6:25 min/mile (3:59 min/km) my fastest of the day and, dare I say it, I began to feel good. Finally, after 21 long miles I broke my first smile of the day when I spotted my support team. This was the first and only time I managed to see them and thankfully I was flying at this point so they felt reassured. 

Miles 22-26: 'Get to the tunnel' that’s all I kept telling myself. The tunnel at mile 23 is traditionally a scene that would make General Haig's Battle of the Somme tactics seem conservative. There are bodies everywhere. Slumped, lying, crawling and walking. It is the point that the crowd and sunlight disappear for what seems like a lifetime and is the first real moment in the marathon where you are on your own. Thankfully, being at the pointy end of the field I am somewhat sheltered from this scene of destruction but if you’re going to crack then this seems to be the place. By the time I arrived at mile 23 I was hurting, like, really hurting. I looked down at my watch and did the mental math, it’s amazing how slow your brain works when you're tired. I worked out that providing I didn't drop below 8:00 min/miles I would be do it. I was now well and truly in the dark place, I had heard about it but never been there before, this was new and I didn't like it. I was a running zombie. There was no emotion on my face and no more gels left to create any. This was it, mind over matter for the final 5k.

‘400m to go’ the sign said, I wasn’t convinced. It felt like a school term passed by during the stretch to the finish. Here we were again, same corner, same feeling in the legs but this time the clock began with a 02 and that was all I needed to know. I had done it, I mustered up the energy to shuffle down that final 100m as fast as I could. I crossed the line an emotional shell in 02:57:50. I had done it, a sub 3-hour Marathon.

Reflection: For me, the lure of endurance sport has always been the constant drive for personal improvement and progression, measured against nobody but myself. Unless you are extremely talented and genetically gifted the likelihood is that your own times are more of a target than a podium place. I'm ok being in the former category. Just because I will never be a professional triathlete or Commonwealth runner doesn't make my aspirations any less significant, it just means my expectations are a little more, well, human. Before embarking on a huge challenge like this I always have to ask myself why am I doing it? Is it for charity, personal satisfaction or to qualify for an event? Whatever the reason, I just have to make sure I have one otherwise at some point, I will crack. It may be during a tough period of training or a tough period of the race but If I don’t have a reason to be out there then I don't have a reason to hurt. I desperately wanted to run under 3 hours at London, for me, and was prepared to go through some god awful gramps and put in some serious training to do so. Would I be prepared to go through all that again for a few more minutes next time? I’m not so sure. 

So Operation #sub3tony is complete. It’s now all eyes on Ironman Hamburg in August.