Week 17: 20 – 26 April

Run: 7hrs 41mins (56.6mi) / Gym 18mins / Crosstrain: 1hr 38mins

Back on to a heavier working week of mileage, although it meant I could take the weekend slightly easier. I was getting increasingly tired as the weeks tick by, and too little sleep was becoming the obvious problem.

With work and family taking the lead, the sleep versus training time battle is a difficult one. I am still yet to get into the pool to start swimming ahead of the 70.3 triathlon at the end of June. As this is an ‘A race’, this was becoming increasingly concerning, and has resulted in me booking twice-weekly lessons at the local pool to get things moving.

Strength vs mileage: a Catch-22 ?

Reflecting on time spent across all disciplines, its becoming obvious that I am not spending the time I want to in the gym. Having recently complemented my cardio kit with an Olympic lifting set-up, I’m not making the time to ensure I get the benefits.

As things stand, lifting would come at the expense of mileage; but maintaining the mileage without the strength work will, I am convinced, eventually cost me in injuries. The only solution is to increase total training time.

But this circles back to the working / family / training / sleep problem… I categorically will not do less time with the family; with our eldest at 18 years old, I am all too aware of how quickly time with the kids disappears, whilst at the same time, I fully appreciate the rarity and value of time spend with my better half. So that is non-negotiable. I need more sleep, and I need more training time. There is only work left to yield, and with us downscaling our involvement on a couple of fronts, I do feel there is an opportunity there. Not straight away but perhaps in the coming 9-12 months. If my body (and self-control) can just hold out.

I end the week by entering the ballot for the 2027 London Marathon. I hear it’s a 1-in-50 chance.

Week 27: Mon 7 – 13 July

Run: 4hrs 29min (32.1mi) / Gym: 19mins / Crosstrain: 1hr 3mins

This week was always going to be a logistical puzzle — 20th wedding anniversary midweek and a hockey trip to Nottingham with my daughter meant time was going to be tight, and training would have to fit around real life, not the other way around. Monday got things underway, albeit sluggishly. A poor night’s sleep and muggy morning left my legs feeling like I was wading through soup. Tuesday was a creative combo — hockey tune-up for my daughter and a chance for me to hit a local track. I was graciously granted access by the centre manager, only to be politely turfed off three reps in by a trio of middle-aged novice cyclists who clearly had their own Olympic dreams to chase. I finished the final two reps on the road and in the car park, maintaining pace and holding onto dignity — just — while trying not to scowl too obviously at their joyful meandering. In fairness, they were out moving, and that counts for something. Five 1k repeats all well under 6-minute-mile pace, with the rogue final rep coming in at 5:51. Not bad for a split session.

Wednesday disappeared in a blur of work and anniversary celebrations — and rightly so. No miles logged, but plenty of life lived. Thursday started with the cycling of shame to collect the car from the night before: 17 miles up the valley that just about counted as active recovery. That meant the tempo run shifted to Friday. I was tempted to let it go altogether, but was glad to have ticked it off before the weekend’s hockey commitments took over completely. Friday afternoon through Saturday was all travel, watching, supporting and eating on the fly. I’d packed my kit with the best of intentions, but the shoes never made it out of the bag.

That left Sunday — hot, heavy air again, but I got round the loop in the morning, followed by some stretching and a dog run in the afternoon to round things off. Mileage well down this week, but after back-to-back 50+ weeks, the drop-off probably did me more good than harm. A reminder that training’s part of the picture, not the whole frame.

Wk10: Mon 10 – Sun 16 March

Run: 5hr 52mins (44mi) / Gym: 0mins / Crosstrain: 1hr 5mins

This week’s training started off with a familiar rhythm. Monday kicked off with the usual morning run—7.8 miles of focused effort, where form was the priority. Upright posture, head up and eyes on the horizon, chest pushed forward, arms driving correctly, cadence kept punchy, aiming for that sweet spot of 175–185 steps per minute. I was so locked in on the mechanics that I ended up pushing harder than planned, finishing in just over an hour. The evening run followed the same mental checklist: head, chest, arms, cadence—rinse and repeat.

Tuesday was a rest day, but Wednesday had me back on the regular route, though the GPS oddly clocked it at 7.63 miles. I don’t remember cutting corners, but the pace was good, finishing just under the hour mark with the heart rate peaking around 145 bpm. Thursday was more of the same—sub-hour finish, mid-140s on the heart rate, clearly pushing too fast for aerobic base-building. But the form felt solid. The evening ‘football’ run at least brought some calmness, keeping the heart rate below 140 bpm.

And then came Friday. It started at 1:45 a.m. with the kind of knock on the door you dread. The police delivered the tragic news that we had feared for some time, but never really thought would come. They left us to process the unimaginable. Running was no longer part of the equation. All that mattered was making sure my wife felt supported through her loss.

The weekend was a haze. Saturday and Sunday saw me taking the boys to Wembley for the cup final, trying to cling to some semblance of normality amid the chaos. Sunday morning, I managed to squeeze in an 8-mile run before the match, but the miles felt hollow—just moments carved out between grief and trying to keep everything together. Later that morning, I played an hour of touch rugby with an old school friend and his pals, and my two boys. It was chaotic, fun, and just what I needed.

This week was a reminder that life doesn’t follow training plans or personal goals. Sometimes, just showing up is all you can do, even if you really don’t know what to do or say.