Marathon 2 of 15: Reading Riverside: The one where it went a bit pear shaped (but it didn't really matter)

The six weeks since the New Forest Marathon had gone quickly. I was still on a high after a good race and the encouragement of the money which had been raised as a result, and was looking forward to marathon 2. I must admit I wasn’t quite sure how to train for this one, as I needed time to recover, and then build up the miles, then taper back down in a relatively short space of time. The previous 3 marathons I’ve completed had two years between each one!

Beautiful River Thames path

The longest run I completed between the two races was 17 miles and I felt pretty strong, and was looking forward to matching or beating my New Forest time. I knew the weather was set fair and the course was flat, so I deviated from my usual cautious approach of ‘I’ll take whatever time comes, lest I set a target and become disappointed’ to being more positive about a quicker time. I have purchased new shoes since the NFM in the hope of avoiding a repeat of the creation of a ‘jelly baby’ blister between my toes again. 

The X-Run marathon in Reading was a new concept for me. Organised by Saturn Running, one of a number of smaller running event organisers recently set up in the UK, the idea is to pay a flat fee and turn up to a themed, timed race of 7 hours, where runners can choose whichever length they want to run. The course measures up at 3.3 miles, so you run 8 laps to get to a marathon length, 4 to get to a half marathon, 9.5 to get to an ultra, etc. Nominally you’re meant to dress up as a mutant, but I didn’t see any.  

So it’s a much smaller field of about 70 runners rather than the usual thousands at a big event. It’s friendly and has a community feel to it. Clearly some of the runners know each other from the circuit. It’s a novel concept and I liked the idea of Saturday running and being in a country park where family could see you frequently; the complete opposite to the big events at New Forest, London, Manchester, etc. 

Early start for Reading Parkrun

The day started crisp and clear, and as planned we arrived in time for Reading parkrun. Our youngest and I volunteered to hand out the finish tokens after the event, as I wasn’t planning to run a 5k before a marathon! It helped to pass the time too and we really enjoyed volunteering with the Reading team. Having cheered our other children and Jayne across the line along with our friends Suzie and Kev and 300 others, we waited until the last runner crossed the line before taking the short walk to the X Run registration desk – a gazebo with a tressel table, surrounded by a few friendly faces.  

After a quick change I was ready for the race briefing and the 10.30 start – it was kind of them to give me and Sands a shout out at the start – “this is Marc’s second marathon of 15 in 15 months”.. shortly followed by “and here’s Gary who is running his 100^thmarathon in 100 weeks”…wait, what?! That certainly put my achievements in the shade! He was a fair bit older than me too- full respect for an amazing effort. I also chatted to Steve Edwards who I had heard about, he was running his 889^thmarathon and is aiming to complete 1000, with an average time of less than 3 hours 30 across them all. He’s written a book about being the ‘Running Machine’…. I have lots to learn… 

Having set up the BBC Sounds app to listen to the last moments of England’s rugby semi-final, we were ready for the off. 

Ready for the off

We start off on a grass field by the Thames River Path, it’s a lovely autumnal day and perfect for running. After about half a mile we venture onto the pathway itself and follow the river past the private school rowing club out for their Saturday practice and along a stonier section to the turn point. Then back along the path and into the woods, completing a short section before turning for home along the field again.  The team give you a wrist band every time you complete a lap, which you later trade in for a medal and an official time, depending on how many laps you’ve completed. 

I listen to the end of England’s epic rugby match and some of the “Super Saturday” in parliament (a misnomer if ever I heard one), and before I know it I’ve completed two laps, 6.6 miles on the clock and feeling ok. I am aiming to do the first half marathon in 2.05 and the second in 2.18, to bring me well under the 4.30 target I had set myself. I’m just about on that pace. The third lap is a bit slower and Jayne joins me for lap 4, which is 10-13 miles. It’s during this lap that I begin to struggle, and I just can’t work out why. The legs feel heavy and I’m beginning to ache. Even running alongside the river it’s beginning to get a bit repetitive. Never mind, it doesn’t matter and it’s great to have the company. 

I complete the first half marathon in 2.09 so I’m a bit behind schedule but 4.30 is still achievable. But by the end of lap 5 it isn’t, as the legs and glutes are really sore already, as are the feet. I can’t really put my finger on why – did I train enough? Or train too much? Did I not stretch enough? Why didn’t I do more leg exercises at the gym? Is it because it’s the same route again and again? The new shoes or the terrain? I am feeling cross with myself and it’s a mental battle for 40 minutes to keep going. Eventually at the end of lap 5 I pull myself out of it, refuel, and put on a podcast I had downloaded the night before.

 

It's getting harder and Harder

It’s hosted by the NHS and explores bereavement care within maternity settings. Two of the wonderful people I’ve met along the journey of establishing the National Bereavement Care Pathway are there, Jess and David, speaking about their experiences of the death of their babies. It’s really powerful and reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing and why I’m running today. Lisa who leads the Maternity Voices Partnership network up and down the country, and who ran with me in London last year when we jogged a half marathon around all the NBCP charities, is also on the pod and giving her perspective. They talk about the importance of parent-centred care, of ‘saying their names’ and of the need to continually fight for better care. So – this one’s for you, Leo and Grace, and for your parents who are running an endurance race of their own, and not by choice. (You can read more about them at Legacy of Leo and Grace in Action.)

The International Stillbirth Alliance I attended recently highlighted that whilst in the UK we are ahead in terms of high quality bereavement care, in many ways we’ve still got such a long way to go and there are always things we can learn. Even if we reduce the stillbirth and neonatal rate by half, from the current near 5,000 babies a year, it will still be 2,500 in 2025, and therefore by my reckoning 18,000 babies are likely to die by then. That’s 18,000 families who are going to need to high quality bereavement care and support. And that is just for neonatal deaths and stillbirth, what about the other losses? It’s a sobering thought but one which makes me determined to carry on.

 

Grateful for friends' support!

With a new resolve I reach the end of lap six. Twenty miles down and 6+ to go. Suzie joins me for lap 7 which is a tremendous help, although I have to stop every half mile or so to stretch my hamstrings up against a fence. I’ve massively slowed down by now and any hope of a 4.30 time has long gone. My new goal is to beat 4.46 which is the time it took me to do my first marathon in 2014 in London. But by the time I see Jayne and the children at the end of lap 7 I’ve given up on that one too. It really doesn’t matter. From a running perspective it’s just one of those days. Sometimes it’s tougher than expected for no specific reason; sometimes it’s just the continual plod, going round and round in circles, sometimes it’s the solitary nature of it all – I acknowledge these parallels as I rip open another energy gel. 

I nod at those running, walking or hobbling as they go past me, either a couple of laps ahead of me or a couple of laps behind. It doesn’t matter; it’s not a competitive run- we are running our own race and whilst we want to give each other encouragement, we’re all too tired to talk. The faces say it all.  

Suzie kindly offers to run the final lap with me again and I’m reminded of last weeks’ extraordinary events in Vienna where Kipchoge broke the 2 hour marathon barrier for the first time (how do you actually run a 5k in 14m30s? And how do you then run it 7 more times at the same pace? It’s just insane). I’ve not quite had his support team running in a V shape shielding me from the wind and I’ve not been following a green laser shining out from a truck, but certainly without Jayne & Suzie and the support of the family I wouldn’t have made it round. 

The last lap I manage to hold together a consistent pace and come in just under 5 hours. 

That really hurt. 

Final lap - feeling weary

I collapse in a heap at the end.  I hand in my eight wrist bands and in return receive an X-run medal for my efforts. I just about manage a shout of encouragement to the veteran who is about to start lap 7. He’s aiming for 9+ to get his ultra and I hope he makes it by the cut off time.  I take off my running shoes, there’s no blister thankfully, though this time it’s really the balls of my feet which are aching. Given the low-key nature of the event there’s no band playing, stalls serving hot food nor photographers snapping so we head back to the car and home to a warm bath and a beer. 

We get home to find we’ve raised a further £200 so we are now pushing £850 which via the wonders of Gift Aid mean that we’re already up and over £1000 for Sands and well on track to hit the target. A huge thank you to all those who have sponsored me and supported me in other ways over the past few weeks. 

Strangely the legs the next day seem much better and I can walk up and down the stairs with no trouble at all. I am able to recover within 2 days rather than the 3 or 4 it took last time. So although the run was much tougher, and the mental battle harder, the recovery was quicker.  

I have since booked for the Manchester Marathon (5 April) and the New Forest again next September, so I know 8 of the 15 marathons I will be running. I need to book one for March, then May-November 2020 need also filling up. So if you know of some good marathon events, do let me know. 

So onwards to Kingston and the Thames Meander Marathon on Saturday week – the 2nd November. It’s only 14 days between the two races, so there’s really no time to build up the mileage again. I plan to spend the first few days recovering, to run well over the intervening weekend, and then taper down again. It’s an out and back route, and I’m hoping to learn the lessons from Reading, but for sure am not setting any targets this time! 

Mutant medal

Esme and the 5.1 million

This time last week I was attending the International Stillbirth Alliance in Madrid; an annual gathering of 450+ delegates – clinicians, charity officers, parents, researchers, academics, students and many more– all united in the cause of reducing the number of babies born still every year. It truly was an international gathering, with 39 countries represented from all four corners. It was an enlightening and uplifting experience to share the weekend with colleagues from as far afield as Afghanistan, India, Pakistan, Colombia, Mexico, New Zealand, Australia, the US and of course Europe. 

Sharing details of the National Bereavement Care Pathway UK project I lead 

We heard speakers talk of new research into early signs of stillbirth risk, the socio-economic impact of stillbirth, improvement of standards and the impact on families and communities and much more; it was all about how we are making a difference – but yet how far there is to go. 

Listening to Dr Margaret Murphy from Cork talk about Education for bereavement care

Many of you reading this will be aware of the '15 a day' campaign – and hence the reason for my 15 marathons  in 15 months. That’s because 15 babies die every day in the UK shortly before, during or shortly after birth. That’s 5,000 a year or one every 90 minutes. It’s getting better – four or five years ago it was 17 babies a day, so the trend is good, but it’s still thousands of families every year devastated by the loss of a baby.

But at the conference another figure stood out. 5.1 million. Let that number sink in a moment. Five million, one hundred thousand babies around the world are born still every year. It’s an almost unfathomable number. Whilst the rate in the UK is around 3-4 babies in every 1,000 born, in many other countries such as South Africa the rate is nearly 30 babies in every 1,000, or 3%. That’s huge. In many places, it is even more commonplace than in the UK. 

But behind each statistic are the names of precious loved ones...

"The world is suffering this tragedy... at a rate of 14, 000 families every day"

This was brought home to me twice in quick succession. Firstly, on the Sunday of the conference, a very simple yet incredibly moving and inclusive ceremony was held outside the venue. In the warmth of the October sun anyone could light a candle, hang a picture, stand in silence, listen to a poem, deposit some white leaves and/or or quietly soak up the beautiful notes of the talented violinist playing in the background, as a memorial to all the babies who have died.  

Then the very next day back in the soggy UK. I took the day off and went for a coffee and chat with my wife, to catch up after a few days away. Having dropped our daughter at school we drove a couple of miles to a newly opened café we had wanted to visit for a while. Walking round the corner of the block towards the café front door, a hearse drove slowly by, containing the smallest pink coffin, wrapped by the most beautiful flower arrangement including one spelling the name ‘ESME’; it stopped us sharply in our tracks. What unimaginable sorrow must Esme’s family be going through on that murky Monday morning as they say goodbye to her? Gone are the hopes and dreams for her future – and gone too are the simple acts of family life such as dropping off a daughter at school, or a welcome home hug after a weekend away at a conference. Rarely has such an image brought us into such stunned silence. The death of a baby brings unspeakable sorrow.

And this is why I am running the marathons – to raise awareness and to raise funds for Sands – to help break the taboo of stillbirth, to help prevent stillbirth, to support those affected by the death of a baby. (We are already up to 25% of our target - huge thanks to all those who have contributed!) The second of these fifteen takes place this Saturday in Reading, at the end of Baby Loss Awareness Week. This is an annual, global occasion where from 9^th– 15^thOctober events are held, campaigns are launched, candles are lit, cakes are baked and runs are run. Above all, memories are shared and pauses held to reflect on those babies who have gone too soon. 

Ahead of next week's second of fifteen marathons, coming to the end of my
final 'long run' this afternoon through Southampton  

So as I run on Saturday I shall be remembering why I run - and for whom I run…for the 5.1 million babies worldwide and the 5,000 in the UK and their families…. for Hope, for Joshua, for Pippa, for Malachi, for Tilly, for Isaac… for Esme.