The beginner: Carol Williamson

I have completed my last proper run (and that was only four miles), and now have nothing more onerous to do than eat, drink and sleep. And wait.

On the eating front I am currently attempting to cram down 400g of carbohydrate a day, which is no mean feat. Apparently you should aim to ingest about 7g of carbs for every kilo of body weight. I had thought a big bowl of pasta would easily contain my daily allowance, but half a packet of fresh pasta only has 50g. A jacket potato has even less. However, I have discovered that a digestive biscuit has 10g, so if all else fails I can fill up on a packet of those.

My biggest fear is hitting the dreaded wall and having to muster the will from somewhere to carry on – I have a low pain threshold. Or getting injured and not being able to exercise for weeks afterwards. A friend also raised the horrifying possibility of needing the loo during the many hours I will be labouring round the course, which opened up a whole new world of things to worry about (suffice to say, I shall not be doing a Paula by the side of the road).

The best advice from those who have run in previous years seems to be to not set off too fast – apparently the temptation to get caught up in the atmosphere at the start and hare off at an unsustainable pace is hard to resist. I want to avoid being one of the runners acquainting themselves with the St John’s ambulance staff, having exhausted themselves in the first five miles, so a regular pace seems to be essential to a non-nightmare experience.

Happily I don’t have to figure out what my stopwatch should say every mile, as someone else has worked it all out for me. When I pick up my runner’s pack this week I can also collect a wristband for a projected 4hr30 time, which will tell me at what time I should reach every mile marker.

Of course, that means I have to plump for a finishing time. I probably shouldn’t be too wildly optimistic, considering I never quite managed to do the recommended longest run. I might get a 4hr45 wristband as well, just to be on the safe side …

I also need to decide whether to get my name printed on my T-shirt. Everyone says this is hugely helpful as the crowds will encourage you on, but if I really have to take some walk breaks I don’t know if I want some well-meaning member of the public bellowing at me to keep running.

Obviously, now D-day looms large on the horizon I wish I had taken the training a little more seriously – though they do say it is better to be underprepared than to overtrain. So on that basis I shall definitely be
arriving at the starting line feeling refreshed …

Carol is raising money for The Outward Bound Trust. To sponsor her, go to justgiving.com/carolwilliamson5

The improver: Matt Kurton

If my name was Bridget Jones, my diary for today would look something like this:

Units of alcohol consumed: 0 (self-imposed, week-long, pre-run abstinence). Number of calories consumed: No idea, but I’ll be trying to get 500g of carbohydrates down me. (That’s 44 tbsp pasta. Or 32 Weetabix. Or 50 digestive biscuits. Or 38 tsp honey). Number of miles run: A gentle three. Number of online weather forecasts consulted: 10. Per hour. Number of potential cold-sufferers avoided: All of them. Everywhere. Constantly.

That’s right, it’s the paranoid, anti-Atkins diet that is the week before a marathon. With the running all but done, it’s time to frantically avoid getting ill. It’s time to instantly imagine any slight twinge is a race-threatening injury. It’s time (from today onwards) to eat 7g of carbohydrate for every kg of body weight. It’s time to go against all your instincts and hope that the temperature drops a few degrees. And it’s time, every so often, to get very, very excited about the weekend ahead.

There’s nothing much left to do, fitness-wise. Parts of my training have gone well, plenty of things could have gone better, but now it all comes down to what happens on the day. The weather is forecast to be pretty hot, so I’m already thinking about how my plan for the race might need to change. I’d love to get a PB, but not if trying too hard for it – and ignoring the weather – means I end up in pieces after 20 miles.

For the first time in a long time, it’s time to start thinking about running in a hat and slapping on the sun cream, because my pasty white skin is never shy when it comes to turning electric pink. And I’ll need to make sure I drink more water than I usually do, too. The fire service run showers on the course, apparently, which could well be a godsend.

As the race gets closer, it all comes down to planning the little details – things like what to pack and where your family and friends are going to stand, as well as how you want the race to go (and what you’ll do if the going gets tough). And it means planning how to celebrate afterwards, of course.

Personally, if all goes well, I’ll hold off raising a celebratory, headrush-inducing glass until I’ve made the most of a massage and a meal at the reception held by Oxfam. I’m running to raise money for the charity, and on the off chance that anyone has enjoyed reading these blogs enough to think about making a donation, I’d be delighted if you’d head to www.justgiving.com/mattkurton.

Otherwise, I’ll simply end by saying good luck to Carol and to anyone else who’s running on Sunday, and by saying thanks very much to everyone who’s planning on coming out to watch. The end of the last four months starts at 9.45 on Sunday morning in Blackheath. I’ll see you there.

The expert: Sam Murphy’s tips

Last-minute practical tips

• Read through all the information in your race pack and finalise your race day plans, so that you know how and when you are travelling to the start, where your start area is, how to attach your timing chip to your shoe and where to look out for your friends and family.

• If you have time, do a 20-minute jog the day before the race. Studies on tapering recommend taking a complete rest day two days out and performing a short, easy session the day before.

• Have kit options ready for different weather conditions. At this time of year, the weather can change quickly so don’t rely on it being the same on Sunday as it is today.

• Get your name printed on the front of your T-shirt. Left it too late? Simply write it on in a permanent thick black marker pen. (Don’t write it on the back – the crowd won’t be looking that way …)

• Cut your toenails straight across and short to minimise the risk of them ending up black and bruised. A dab of Vaseline on blister-prone areas can prevent shoes or socks rubbing.

• Even if you are nervous, don’t avoid breakfast on race day. Even a liquid breakfast, such as a smoothie, will do, if you can’t stomach solid food. If you are worried about nervous tummy upsets, pack some Immodium in your race bag.

• Take clean kit, socks and comfortable shoes (I like Crocs) to put on for the journey home after the race. You may have fallen out of love with your running shoes by then!

Mental tips and tricks to see you round the course

• Break the race down into bite-size stages in your head rather than trying to contemplate the full 26.2 miles in one go. For example, your first goal might be to get to the first drinks station, at the three-mile marker. Once you reach that, have a quick drink and focus on the next goal, such as the Cutty Sark at six miles. Use mile markers, famous landmarks and your spectators to break the distance down into chunks.

• Don’t fret about feeling nervous, everyone feels the same. But don’t let nerves put you off your pre-race routine or race plan. Stay calm and quiet and be assured that as soon as the gun goes, nerves will vanish.

• Have confidence. The hardest bit – the training – is done. Over the last few weeks and months, you’ve shown discipline, staying power, focus and determination – all qualities that will help you reach the finish line.

• Create a simple mantra that you can repeat to yourself when the going gets tough. ‘Strong and steady’, for example, or ‘step by step.’ Repeating a mantra prevents negative thoughts slipping in and helps you stay focused. Or follow Paula Radcliffe’s example and try counting to yourself as you run.

• Visualise yourself turning the corner onto the Mall and seeing the finish line up ahead with the timing clocks above the gantry. Use all your senses to create a vivid image of how it will look, sound, feel and even taste as you reach that point and make your way along the home straight. Practise this visualisation frequently – if you can conjure up a picture yourself crossing the finish line, it’s almost a fait accompli.

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