Five years earlier, just after finishing my first marathon, I made a decision: one day I would break three hours. I worked towards that goal step by step. On 8 April 2018, I lined up at the Greater Manchester Marathon to find out whether I could turn that dream into a result.
This is the first part of the Crushing3 finale: the journey, planning and those last moments before the start. The race itself continues in Part 2.
The journey to England: too little sleep
I flew to England the day before the race. In hindsight, that was a little late. My flight was at 6 a.m., so I had to get up at 2:45 a.m. I lost a large part of the night I had been counting on, knowing that I usually struggle to sleep immediately before a race anyway.
Race bib collected
Collecting my bib was straightforward. I say “bib” because that was essentially my race pack. Runners living in England had received theirs by post, which meant there was barely a queue at collection. I really liked that arrangement.
The evening before: pace, gels and water
That evening, I went through my strategy again: when to take a gel, where the water stations would be and what pace I wanted to hold. Rather than leave those decisions until I was running, I wanted to start the morning with a clear plan.
On Saturday, I fell asleep fairly easily, at around 10:30 p.m. Relaxation techniques helped, as did telling myself I was ready. I had spent a long time learning to believe in the goal. Eventually, “Will I break three hours?” started to become “How far under three hours can I go?”
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Race morning and a final dose of motivation
I got up at 6:30 a.m. Breakfast was one and a half bread rolls with jam and a cup of tea. We planned to leave at 7:20, with my sister dropping me as close to the bag drop as possible. This time, my wife and daughters would be waiting at the finish.
There was still a little time to get my head in the right place. I was really into Fearless Motivation then and had several tracks on repeat. I was visibly nervous and could not stand still. I kept telling myself this was my day, the moment I had been waiting for.
Getting to the start
Road closures quickly complicated the journey. When we got stuck in a substantial traffic jam, I decided to walk the remaining 2–2.5 kilometres. At least it would serve as a warm-up. Along the way, I listened to motivational tracks about being ready and facing a battle with yourself.
My mental game was my weaker side, so I tried to support it with whatever worked for me. Fortunately, the weather was much better than forecast: cloudy, dry and almost windless. Ideal for running. Much less pleasant for standing around in race kit.
Two mistakes before the start
I had forgotten both my water and the rubbish bag I had intended to wear as protection from the cold. I quickly bought water in a café. Solving the second problem was harder.
I was wearing very short shorts, a running vest and, unusually for me, arm sleeves. At around 8:20 a.m., it was roughly 6°C. It was bloody cold. I saw runners wearing Asics thermal blankets but could not work out where they had been handed out.
Bag drop, the walk to the start and my hand-written ritual
The bag drop itself ran smoothly. Everyone received a numbered wristband, which also made collection efficient afterwards. The downside was the distance: first a long walk to the bag drop, then about another 15 minutes to the start. At one point, I began to worry I would be late.
That delayed my final ritual: writing split times for kilometres 10, 21, 30 and 40 on my hand, alongside phrases I wanted to return to when things got difficult.
Courage. Fight. Strength. You are ready. This is your time. You can do it. I also wore two wristbands: “You can do more than you think” and “I don’t stop when I’m tired, I stop when I’m done”.
The race plan: 4:10 per kilometre to kilometre 30
I skipped a separate warm-up. I felt the walk, which I ultimately reckoned had been about three kilometres, would be enough. More importantly, I had run out of time.
The plan was simple: hold around 4:10 per kilometre until kilometre 30, then see what I had left. I wanted to break three hours, but I did not have the nerves to run right on the limit. I did not want one slower kilometre to turn the dream into 3:00:01.
I preferred to build a buffer early rather than chase the result later. A negative split — running the second half faster — did not fit my mindset at the time. This was the strategy I chose for myself: a record of my race, not a ready-made marathon formula.
Just a few moments left…
The emotions were taking over. Just a few moments left. Three, two, one… we were off. And that was when my plan began to fall apart.
Read PART 2: the race, the crisis and the finish · Back to Crushing3