Ape-ril

[Charliecat5]

Thanks Charlie! Hopefully you're making strong inroads into the local sights with MLCMM by now. 

Interview here - tune in about 1h40, pop pickers.

I love it when you say 'I'm not an obsessive runner'.  HA! You have a chart and everything. If that's not obsessive!  Nice interview. 

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

All the best way for the big day, Dan. Mrs MLCMM and I will be in the JDRF cheer squad for part of the time so we'll keep an eye out for you, but you know what it's like trying to pick one gorilla from out of a crowd...

[Sweder]

Tony Blackburn? Not 'alf!! Superb stuff, Dan.
May the road rise to meet you and your legs fly with the fire of a thousand suns.

We'll be at mile 22.5 (opposide mile 13) on The Highway. We'll be giving the Apes every ounce of support
I do hope you're not plagued by any ugly ear-worms, such as 'Hey Hey We're The Monkeys'

[marathondan]

All the best way for the big day, Dan. Mrs MLCMM and I will be in the JDRF cheer squad for part of the time so we'll keep an eye out for you, but you know what it's like trying to pick one gorilla from out of a crowd...

Hope to see you! Remember the way to get my attention is to use my real name! (or even better, my screen name)

Seems I misread the weather forecast and we're expecting light rain for most of the morning. Hey ho.

[Sweder]

One of the highlights of an emotionally overwhelming day that saw St Paula run her last LM (saw her, head bobbing and rolling, and declared my love for her at great volume), 163 JDRF runners whooped and cheered to the rafters and DJ/ Presenter Christopher Evans ageing visibly before my eyes, was greeting our man Dan at 36k. I could barely hear what he said to me as we clasped hands. My own voice had all but gone (it's totally shredded now) but the eyes behind the mask were wide and shining brightly. The big man was going remarkably well. I'm just so pleased it didn't get too hairy for him.

   
A might roar across the divide at Mile 13

[marathondan]

Home in 4:47:11, 40 sec slower than my last monkeying around in 2010 (albeit on a much cooler day). Attached splits tell the tale - it all went pretty much to plan. A few "power walks" (i.e. walks) needed in the last few miles, but enough left in the tank for a relatively speedy finish. Awesome support as you might expect, fabulous to see the mighty Sweder & MLCMM at 13 (when I was still in dancing mood) and then again at 22. Today the quads are shot, but otherwise feeling remarkably good (and hungry). More details to follow.
   

[stillwaddler]

A brilliant time for apeing around Dan...v proud of you and love the pic. enjoy your r and r and best of all the rehydration.

[Charliecat5]

Well done Dan... brilliant effort.  Apes the world round will be very proud of you.  I am looking forward to the full race report.

[marathondan]

1. Gorilla in the mist

Friday saw the obligatory slog across London to the Expo. I was already feeling excited about the big day - my first marathon for three years - but hanging around with thousands of runners brought home that it was finally happening. I'm fairly immune to the merchandise - traditional purchase of an official souvenir mug aside - but I enjoyed a couple of thimblefuls of London Pride, and found a sticker on the Brooks stand that seemed made for me: "This seems like an awful lot of work for a free banana." 

Saturday night there were the usual odd jobs to do: not just affixing running number to shirt and baggage sack, rechecking train times and so on, but packing sewing kit, counting out jelly babies, and testing the drink bottle for compatibility with the mask. Final carb loading came via a slab of home-made pizza, and I took an early night.

I awoke at 5.30 to overcast skies and light drizzle. Perfect running conditions. I cycled down to the station and joined 20 or so other runners, plus entourages, awaiting the 0638. I'd brought the Marathontalk podcast with me, but on board the train it seemed antisocial to miss out on people-watching and light banter with my fellow runners. Three building workers joined us at Slough, heading for a Sunday shift over at Docklands, and were more than a little surprised to see the train so full. 

The rail system finally disgorged me at Blackheath, from where it was a short walk up to the field for the blue start. Friendly marshals greeted us, despite the early hour and cold drizzle. Due to the train timetable, I was on site nearly two hours before the gun. The lack of sunshine reduced the carnival atmosphere somewhat, but there were still the sideshows: big screens with live feeds picking out runners in the crowd, hot air balloons preparing for launch, excited teams posing for photos... and a lonely gorilla, waiting to emerge from his plastic bag.

For now, I was well wrapped up, so I laid out my poncho and settled down in the lee of one of the changing tents for half an hour with Bill Bryson. I was amazed that some runners were already stripped to vest and shorts, 90 minutes before the off, and were now shivering under bin bags. I was aware that I would need a little more preparation time than most, so kept an eye on the loo queues. As the minutes ticked by I packed up and joined a shortish queue for that most vital of race preparations. Then it was out with the groundsheet once more for a final kit check. The costume had remained in good shape, so the sewing kit wouldn't be needed, so I got suited up with about 45 minutes to go. Now my arms and legs at least were toasty warm, and a few runners expressed some envy of the coverage. Bag dropped, I still had time to kill, so repaired to a changing tent to escape the wind, mask and gloves tucked under my arm like a fighter pilot about to embark on a mission. I stared grimly into the distance, arms across my chest, contemplating my fate and unwilling to make eye contact with my fellow travellers.

As the starting pens filled up, I finally decided it was time to don the mask and return to the world of the crazy people. As I jogged across to my allotted spot, I wasn't prepared for what happened next: people asking for selfies with me. This is something that didn't exist the last time I wore the outfit.

[marathondan]

2. Monkey magic

And so we were off. I didn't really notice the gun, but sensed that the crowd was gradually moving forward, so we must have started. As predicted, I crossed the line at almost bang on 10 minutes. The task now was to remember how to run in this thing, and to make sure I kept my pace down. This was my first marathon with a Garmin, so pacing was easier than usual. The plan was to go out at somewhere between 10:30 and 11:00 miling, and see how we go.

In cool conditions like this, the mask isn't so much hot as just uncomfortable. The mixture of sweat and breath soon makes the thing damp and clammy inside, and you begin to pine for feeling the wind in your... well, head, in my case. It took about an hour for me to really get used to the feeling. The same goes for the oversized rubber hands. Sweat pools in the fingers and then runs down when you lift your arm.

The early stages are sparsely spectated - well-wishers who've come all the way out east, and local residents enjoying early tipples under gazebos. I was already enjoying the attention of the supporters though, responding with a wave, a fist pump or occasionally a chest beat. The greetings from the crowd were many and varied - from parents pointing me out to their small children, through excited shouts of "gorilla!" or "monkey!", to guttural roars and the occasional "ooh ooh ooh". My favourites over the day were being called "Scope monkey", and a guy with a megaphone breaking into "In The Air Tonight".

The early stages felt very relaxed indeed. The temptation in such events to nip into gaps and burn out early is well documented, but I didn't feel the route was overly crowded - maybe an advantage of starting a bit further back. Any time I did encounter a blocked path, caution was the watchword, and I just dropped off the pace gently until things opened up again.

As we neared Cutty Sark, the crowds grew deeper and louder and it felt like we were really in the London Marathon. There were occasional bands, drummers and pub singers now. I always like to applaud these, and this time I had the additional opportunity of doing a little dance each time. There were three sets of friends in the crowd, plus family at mile 25, as well as the Scope stands, and the famous JDRF bellowers of this parish. Working out where each of these would be provided a welcome distraction.

I spotted my first supporters at after Cutty Sark and stopped for high fives. One benefit of not running a serious race is that you don't worry about taking a few seconds to say hello. And so we went on. Pace was a little faster than planned, but of course it's impossible to resist trying to keep a little in hand. The Garmin - set for automatic lap counting every mile - gradually became more and more out of step with the mile markers, as I was clearly not following the blue line all the time. I popped a jelly baby every mile. From time to time I stopped at a water station and got a volunteer to top me up with three bottles of water.

[marathondan]

3. Funky gibbon

As well as crowd support, runners would often give me a pat on the back or a well-done as they overtook me. I tried to return the favour whenever I encountered a fellow fancy dress enthusiast. I variously chatted with a banana (his running partner got a picture of us together), a dog (guiding a partially sighted runner) and another gorilla (with his head off for a break - shameful). Also a man who'd had his colon removed, and sundry other runners who were happy to fulfill the mutual need for a chat.

Mile 11 and I stopped for more high fives with super-supporters Chris and Rebekah (half of the Brighton Rock support team). I'd thought (wrongly) they were going to be a bit later on, but I passed a station... Rotherhithe, that sounds familiar, didn't someone mention that on the phone this week? Oh! There they are. Completely serendipitous that I was on the right side for a quick - if bemused, on both sides - meet and greet. It seems so wrong to only stop for a couple of seconds after they've been waiting for so long, but... well, I guess keeping going is the whole point.

Visibility in the mask is poor of course. Peripheral vision is almost non-existent, and, being quite tall, it was common for me to find a shorter, overtaking runner unexpectedly appearing around my armpit region. That, or to come very close to punching someone in the face as I waved to the crowd. This is well illustrated by my official photos at Tower Bridge. First, Gus invades the personal body space of an unfortunate lady. Nonplussed, she valiantly fights off the hairy invader. Finally, he towards towards the inter-species interloper with a quizzical look. I basically ruined this photo for her.

Tower Bridge is a glorious point in the course. It's super-iconic, landmarks are all around, it's nearly halfway, and once over the bridge you get to run against athletes who are an hour or so ahead of you. As I was running below my normal pace, the quality of runners on the other side wasn't quite as high as in my previous Londons. Fast, yes, but the true whippets were already gone, and there was the odd charity wig speeding by.

At this point I knew that the JDRF stand would soon be on both sides, with Sweder and MLCMM on the other side of the carriageway. Once the blue banners were in range it was easy to spot them, and they certainly made themselves well heard from 10m or so away. I let rip with my best King Louie dance and moved on, spirits lifted.

13.1 miles is a significant milestone, but then it starts to drag a bit. There are still wonderful crowds, bands, singers, fellow runners. But at this point, you really want to get to the infamous mile 20. And at this pace that's a long slog, an hour and a quarter of not much happening, except you getting more and more tired. It was all about the legs, for sure. The slow pace meant that I was heel striking on straight legs, each step jolting 200 pounds straight through the quads. At times I remembered to straighten up and roll my foot through, but you can only maintain that for a while.

Three more encounters with supporters - lingering for slightly longer greetings each time - and a good cheer at the Scope stand kept me going. Jelly babies were becoming unpalatable to say the least, and the Garmin mile markers now bore little relation to the actual mile posts. But 20 finally came around. The beginning of the end.

[marathondan]

4. Banana splits

Here, thoughts started to form about how nice it would be to take a walk break. The crowd support was getting stronger and stronger, but I was getting less and less able to acknowledge their contributions. I resisted the temptation to walk for a while, but eventually came upon a significant downhill. Ah, I thought, descending is bad for the quads, why not walk this? So I slowed to what I told myself was a power walk, arms swinging. Pace had been around 11 min per mile, so as long as average pace for the current segment stayed below 12, I was happy. I felt a bit shameful, walking along the margin as the crowd encouraged me, but I think they were sympathetic. Bottom of the hill achieved, I returned my jog, to whoops from the supporters. And it helped - the legs really felt rested after a couple of minutes off.

Somewhere around here I clattered into the back of a runner. I was probably graciously acknowledging the cheers of my thousands of fans, and before I knew it, she had sneaked in front of me. We both staggered heavily but fortunately didn't fall. I tried to express concern as best I could, via the face of a growling gorilla with huge, clawed hands. My toes on both feet got severely pressed into my shoes, and the pain of that was actually a useful distraction for a mile or so.

I was now on the fast side of the two-lane runner highway. In previous years, the other side has been a steady stream of strugglers and stragglers, already heavily run-walking and facing a long day. Today, at my slower pace, I passed the sweeper, a big green tractor with brush implements, having a go at diverting the thousands of empty water bottles into the margins. I suppose biodegradable paper cups would be too much to hope for in future? Surely Buxton haven't gained that much market share from Evian as a result of their sponsorship? They could still put their logo on the cups.

Through Blackfriars underpass - another good opportunity for a walk, this time on the uphill, and we were onto the Embankment, where the atmosphere is like a gladiatorial arena. The hot air blast of the crowd roar almost physically carries you along. The JDRF stand would be along here. Previously I'd noticed a big yellow sign saying "Customer Parking" right behind it, so I had a bearing on it a good 100m in advance. Positioning myself hard right, I moved in to hail Sweder, wanting to say something like "not much in the tank, but nearly there". Instead what came out was a simian grunt, as man and ape faced each other and shook hands. Once again, I truly felt boosted by the contact, and was on my way.

The final meeting of the day was to be with the family around mile 25. I'd scoped out the spot on Street View in advance, and again positioned myself hard to the right. I allowed myself one more walk, but made sure I was back to a run before the kids saw me. Scanning crowds for loved ones is always a frantic affair, bringing to mind mass disasters and missing person scenarios that fortunately most of us never have to contend with. They must be here somewhere... this is a good distraction... and there they are, kids all in Scope t-shirts. Keep going, they say, but I move in for proper hugs, and a few tears behind the mask.

[marathondan]

5. Champion chimp

A little piece of me broke inside the first time I took a walk break, and there's not much of me left now. It's all surreal. I don't know how I got here, why I'm here, how I made it this far, or why I tried to do this again when it's so hard. Yet... I feel the worst is over. All the day's jobs are ticked off the list, the final milestone now is the big one, the finish. I've long ago made peace with the humid horror of the mask, now I just happen to be running in a sauna. And suddenly I feel OK. The crowds, the jelly babies, my supporters, I can do this. With the slower pace, there's no stress on my hamstrings or calves (or that Achilles tendon - remember him?), it's just all going through my quads, and I can manage that by rolling my feet.

So I gradually speed up, where is that 800m marker, at 800m I'll drop the hammer, or the best I can do at this stage. There it is, here we go... it looks like a long way to the 600m marker! How does the clock look... 4:43 something? That's quite slow, with my early miles below 10:30 pace, I thought I'd be faster than that. I think I've missed a monkey PB. Hang on, Garmin says I've done more than 26.2 already. Of course, I can't rely on Garmin pace for finish time because my route is longer than 26.2 miles. Anyway, back to the chase. I'm reeling them in left and right, this is the strongest I've ever finished a marathon. Into the Mall, surely there will be a commentator mentioning the monkey tearing down the home straight? Instead, there's a Tardis on the big screen and they're playing the Doctor Who theme. Never mind. The journey is nearly over. It's wonderful to be able to open up and not worry about pulling something in the last yards. The monkey has never run like this before. And there it is. Red mats, stop running, stop the watch with ape fingers. I can walk, and I never need to run again.

I keep the mask on so that Gus can receive his medal in person and get an official photo. Then off it comes, and the sensation of fresh air is amazing. Off come the gloves; my hands look like I've been in the bath for four hours. Goody bag, baggage drop, trudge through Horseguards, kitbag string cutting into my shoulder, and off to the Scope reception on Whitehall - a much better option than the alphabetical meet and greet, if you're lucky enough to have it on offer. Family and friends met and hugs exchanged, we pop our heads in. Drinks and massages are on offer, but we opt to keep moving and head for home. Charing Cross is packed to the point of standstill, but if we've all learned one thing today - runners or supporters - it's patience. We wait our turn and are slowly and gradually rewarded with seats on the tube. I finally strip off the remains of the costume on Paddington concourse. Before we know it we're back in our home town, in time for a family-sized Chinese and a restorative light ale. Another adventure is over.

.......................

Back home, Garmin says that I ran 26.78 miles. I hadn't twigged beforehand that this would mess up my pacing, because a "race" mile isn't the same as a satellite mile.

The last 0.78 was done at 9:42 min/mile, my fastest segment by a long margin.

[Sweder]

Yeah baby! Terrific run, Dan. That 36k handshake was quite a moment. The guys from HHH were impressed that I knew you. They offered me a lovely drop of ale by way of celebrating the moment. Damned good it tasted, too.

[Antonio247]

Congratulations, Dan! Wonderful achievement and fantastic report that made me feel as if I had been there.


Saludos desde Almería Greetings from Almería

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

We'll done Gus! Thrilled that we (myself, Mrs MLCMM, Sweder and the rest of the JDRF scream team) saw you, the lead gorilla through the half way point. A great day, a great thrill and a great result. Definitely a highlight in the MLCMM running memoirs.

[glaconman]

Masterful execution as always Dan. Done with real style. And a great write-up as well.

[marathondan]

World domination has begun.

www.thedailymash.co.uk/news/health/mens-health-magazine-finally-puts-a-gorilla-on-the-cover-2015051498272

[marathondan]

Nice little interview with UK elite (ultra) marathoner Steve Way here. Seafront / hill enthusiast, beer swilling, overpronating, heel-striking, age-defying endurance monster... sounds like he would be welcome here.

[Charliecat5]

Nice little interview with UK elite (ultra) marathoner Steve Way here. Seafront / hill enthusiast, beer swilling, overpronating, heel-striking, age-defying endurance monster... sounds like he would be welcome here.

I wish I had read this paragraph a couple of weeks ago:


"It’s quite dangerous, playing around with people’s natural form. It can lead to benefits, but you might spend six months injured, waiting to get there."


This weekend will be my first run for two weeks due to injury.  I might be heading out with Billy Goat Gruff... which means it's highly likely that we'll end up doing something unplanned and bordering on silly.  Which in my view, is the best kinda running.