Tag: Running

RUN TALK RUN – Runner’s World, Sept 2019 issue

In the middle of 2017, overwhelmed by the stresses of living and working in London, Jessica Robson began retreating every weekend to her parents’ home in East Sussex, where her mum would drag her out for Sunday runs. “That was quite a dark summer for me. I was really struggling to cope,” she says. “But I found I was opening… Read more →

BRUCE TULLOH profile – Runner’s World, Sept 2018 issue

“Our main hope here, the barefooted lightweight wonder, Bruce Tulloh,” the Pathé news reporter says in delightfully plummy tones, over black-and-white shots of the British athlete’s victory in the 1962 European Championship 5,000 metres in Belgrade. “That frail form conceals a lot of strength.”   Tulloh, at under 5’8, close to 8 stone and gently spoken, could have been a… Read more →

HOW TO ORGANISE A MARATHON – Men’s Running March 2018 issue



















A marathon doesn’t usually start in a pub. But that’s sometimes where they begin, years before the inaugural bang of the starting gun.


In the case of two relatively new Sussex marathons – the Moyleman, which loops around Lewes and first took place in 2015, and Brighton, which has been the UK’s second biggest marathon since 2010 – the pub was where those first speculative conversations were had. Could this be done? Why hasn’t anyone done it before? Could we do it?


It’s a tale of two cities – well, one city and a market town. The two races couldn’t be more different. Brighton sees about 12,000 runners trotting along the famous seafront, cheered on by a further 60,000 in an event that rivals Pride and the London to Brighton Bike Ride as one of the largest events in the South Coast tourist destination’s calendar. In its fourth year, the Moyleman has grown from 90 participants to 350 and follows the trails in the hills surrounding Lewes, 10 miles east of Brighton, including a sizeable chunk of the South Downs Way. The spectators are mostly sheep.


Brighton began because two locals used their expertise to spot a gap in the running market. Tim Hutchings was a former GB runner with medals for 5000m at the European Championship and Commonwealth Games. He’s also a Eurosport commentator and had worked as the London Marathon’s International Coordinator for 10 years. Tom Naylor is Brighton born and bred, the son of parents who had long been active in local running events. They used to organise Brighton’s half marathon. His mum, Chris, is the current President of the city’s Arena 80 athletics club.


“They organised their first race when I was about seven, so I’ve had many years of stuffing race packs in the kitchen. That was just a thing we did in our family,” says Naylor. He competed as a high level club runner in 1500m and 5000m before going on to open a running shop in Hove. “Tim had seen the London Marathon change and grow hugely, and had also travelled the world commentating on running events and seen how many major cities across Europe have their own marathons. We couldn’t understand why London was the size it was, rejecting so many people in the ballot every year, while there was nothing else close to being that big.”


The Moyleman, in contrast, began as a less ambitious concept but has still grown to the immense satisfation of the local mates who thought it would be a fun thing to do. It’s named after Chris Moyle, a local runner who died from stomach cancer in 2009. The spot where his ashes are scattered looks down on part of the route. Its real genesis came, however, when Duncan Rawson, a keen mountain biker, met Ash Head, Moyle’s training buddy, in a pub, and enthused about his day spent riding a punishing lap around the local hills. He said he’d covered about 28 miles, which switched on a lightbulb.


Head wrote a blog outlining a speculative marathon route, saying: “This’ll probably never happen.” The reply came back from another friend and local runner, Tom Roper: “This MUST happen.” Rawson and Head now share the job of race director, while Roper is chief marshall. Two more friends, Rob Read and Brian Courage, handle PR and money stuff respectively. No one spends so much time on the organising that it ruins the experience, though Rawson still replies to every querying email personally, so the immediate run-up gets hectic.


“It ebbs and flows, the amount of time it takes up in our lives,” says Head. “Six weeks out, you might have nowhere near enough marshalls. Organising the roving 4×4 medical teams is a significant job. But the bar is set reasonably low. There’s not a lot that can go wrong. The thing we fear the most is people getting hurt, injured, lost.”


The Moyleman doesn’t require any road closures, and finishes in the deliveries yard of the helpful local brewer, Harveys. Instead of a medal, you get a branded pint glass, complete with beer, at the finish. The only piece of private land used requires verbal permission from a friendly local farmer, who they treat to dinner in a nice restaurant once a year.


Brighton Marathon, in contrast, completely takes over a significant chunk of the city. “It impacts everyone in different ways. For some people it’s a bit annoying. For others it shuts down what they’re trying to do,” says Naylor. “We’re dealing with an under pressure hospital. Bus routes, taxi routes, fire stations, car parks, all have to be considered. The Council were great – they wanted to do it. But it took a long time to get the route into position and make them confident that we weren’t going to ruin a lot of people’s weekend.”


Naylor’s and Hutchings’ company, Grounded Events, has eight employees who work on the Marathon all year round. But as race day approaches, that number ramps up considerably. They bring in 25 events professionals who have worked on big occasions such as the Olympics and the Tour de France, supervising a 200-strong events team. There’ll be about 500 stewards and security people across the event, as well as 150 medical volunteers – doctors and senior nurses – and 400 St John Ambulance first aiders. Plus about 1800 volunteers handing out race packs beforehand and managing drinks stations during the race.


Their race was popular straight away, attracting about 7,500 runners in its first year. Like Edinburgh, whose marathon had just over 6,000 finishers last year, it’s an attractive city to visit for a weekend anyway so has instant appeal. Brighton’s immediate success was also helped by the cunning decision to take place the week before London, hoovering up many who want to train through the winter and didn’t get into the big one.


Social media also helps these days, enabling them to publicise the race far more widely and quickly than putting an advert in the back of a magazine. “It’s created an experience market,” says Naylor. “People challenge themselves in a public way, and are inspired by seeing other people challenging themselves. Up to 70 per cent of people doing our marathon are first timers.”


But it has its downsides too. Complaints are aired more widely too. What kind of criticism has Brighton had? “Anything and everything! It’s somebody’s once in a lifetime experience, so anything that makes that the slightest bit negative – queueing, the loos, not liking the start location, hating the music – that feedback starts to come in immediately after the race has finished.”


So putting on a marathon is an evolving process – they’re still tinkering. The Moyleman organisers now have to put up their route arrows at the last minute in one village, otherwise they get taken down again by hostile locals. Brighton is experimenting with a start time 45 minutes later this year, to make it easier for participants who don’t live in the city. While they fiddle with this, as well as a slight route alteration and changes to the park and ride system, they’ve made the number of entrants a bit lower.


Yet both sets of organisers know that they’ve created something valuable, loved by many who come repeatedly, and have no desire to make their races much bigger or smaller. “Someone suggested a while back that we could make this the Sainsbury’s Moyleman. Over my dead body,” says Head.


“We like to be at the finish line and shake everyone’s hand,” says Rawson of the Moyleman’s low-key finale. “We never set out to make money. Watching people cross the line, the tears and the hugs, it’s incredibly emotional. That’s the real pay-off.”





Through their backgrounds as high level runners and Tom Naylor’s experience running a small business, Brighton’s organisers already knew plenty of the key people to speak to about putting on a local marathon. Moyleman organiser Duncan Rawson’s background in farming got him access to the right fields.



It can take a few years for that initial pub idea to become a reality. The first conversation about a Brighton Marathon took place in July 2007 and it was licensed in May 2009. An unofficial Moyleman for 15 running friends took place the year before they did it for real.



One of Brighton’s biggest problems was the year that the kit bags turned out to be too small and flimsy. Unfortunately they only discovered this when thousands of them arrived two days before the race. Needless to say it didn’t happen again.



As a small race relying largely on local goodwill, the Moyleman can cut it fine to be completely ready. Marshalls often only emerge at the last minute, or have to be ferried from early in the race to near the end to man a second post. One year, in the absence of anyone else, a medic crew took over a water station for a while.



Without the investment of numerous charities, who receive their money back fivefold when people receive their allocated places and do sponsored runs, Brighton would struggle to operate. Although it doesn’t have any offcial charity involvement, the Moyleman gives any profits to Martlets, the local hospice that cared for the race’s namesake.

HOW TO PUSH THROUGH PAIN – Men’s Running, Jan 2017 issue


As R Kelly sang in Bump ‘n’ Grind, the R&B superstar’s famous song about cross country running, “My mind is tellin’ me no, but my body, my body’s tellin’ me YES!” We can receive conflicting messages when racing, and it’s hard to know what to believe. Most confusingly, how can we tell that we’re trying as hard as we can when we run?


If you cross the finish line and are able to chat straight away, or indeed feel comfortable enough to natter during a race, you could probably give a little more. The problem is that we don’t usually recognise that until late on. If you can summon a blazing sprint finish at the close (and most of us can – that’s the best bit, isn’t it?), who’s to say that you couldn’t have used that extra energy more effectively in the rest of the race?


“The question, ‘How can a runner tell if he has given his best effort over the full distance of a race?’ is fundamentally unknowable,” says coach and author Matt Fitzgerald, who wrote the book How Bad Do You Want It? “No matter how hard an athlete feels he has tried, he always finishes a race – or at least reaches the point where he begins his finishing kick – with a reserve of physical capacity. This is because runners pace their races based on subjective perceptions of their physical limits, and humans appear to be wired to always underestimate these limits.”


You can’t win a top level race without trying your hardest though, surely, so how do the big boys do it? I ask triathlon gold medallist Alistair Brownlee who, as a less than ideal interview mix of single-minded professional athlete and Yorkshireman, doesn’t have much to offer in the way of deep psychological insights.


“It’s hard for me to answer because it comes quite naturally and I’ve done it from a very young age,” he says of his ability to push himself towards first place. He isn’t a believer in visualisation or other ways to train your mind as well as your body for success. “I’ve never let myself focus on crossing the line. I have to remain very much in the moment. I am aware somewhere that I’m really really pushing hard, but I’m staying in the moment, trying to hold on til the next corner, breaking the race down and staying in the present. My opinion is, train as hard as you can physically, get yourself on the start line and embrace the challenge of the race. Just get on with it.”


Simple, huh? “You can almost always try harder than you think you can,” he continues. “So basically you do something as hard as you can, then try and do it about five per cent harder.”


It makes sense that a good way to understand your effort level is to have done something before. When you do it better the second time, you have measurable proof that you’re trying harder. Plus, as we know, having a goal to beat is a great motivator.


Fellrunning world champion Ricky Lightfoot understands the determination that results from doing less well the first time you try something. When we speak he’s just back from the Grand Trail des Templiers in France, a 76km race in which he finished a mere 24th. However, his previous visit was worse. “Two years ago I had an injury at this same race which stopped me finishing it, so I was more determined than ever to finish this time,” he tells me. “I’ve been carrying an injury for about two years. It started hurting after about 30k in this race. I found myself almost wanting to give in and stop. It’s points like that when you feel a bit of self pity. I found myself wishing I had my phone so I could call my partner. But I knew it wasn’t going to get any worse. I just kept on telling myself: get a little bit further, get to the next checkpoint. I told myself I wanted to get to the finish, and I was more than happy with that.”


You’ll have noticed both Brownlee and Lightfoot thinking about their races only in small increments. If you tried to comprehend the magnitude of, say, the Marathon des Sables and its endless stages all at once, you’d run screaming in the opposite direction. But putting one foot in front of the other, then doing it again, and again, ought always to be something you can manage. In practice you can persuade your brain to think positively about repeating these small achievements, according to Andy Lane, Professor of Sport and Learning at the University of Wolverhampton. It’s interval training that will teach you how to push harder for longer.


“If you’re doing 20 reps, you don’t think, ‘I can’t do 17 more of these.’ You don’t have to think about that. You only have to think about the next one,” he tells me. “So you think, ‘Can I do one more? Yes.’ That brings the mindset: ‘Can I go quicker? Yes I can.’ That’s the foundation of mental strength for any endurance event: ‘Can I do this again? Yes. Can I push myself hard? Yes. Is it tiring? Yes. But am I stopping? No!’”


A problem that we face is that we almost always feel that we are trying our hardest, even if the reality is that we could try harder. Matt Fitzgerald cites a study in which cyclists completed a time trial, then did it again racing against an avatar on a computer screen that was programmed to do it two per cent faster than each cyclist had done it previously. The cyclists did better the second time, but on both occasions reported that they’d been trying as hard as they could.


So what you’re trying to do is increase your maximum tolerance for perceived effort. “When you complete a hard workout or race and realise that it didn’t kill you, you feel comfortable pushing a little harder in the next one,” says Fitzgerald.


But how do we measure that effort during a race? An attempt to run at a certain pace per mile can come unstuck when there are hills or a headwind. Using a heart rate monitor can teach you the top level at which you can work, and help you to know the line to keep just underneath. However, they can lag, continuing to climb after you’ve already reached the top of a hill, for example.


Some devices, such as those made by Stryd and RPM2, can now offer a power reading in watts, of the kind used by cyclists. It could be a more accurate way to keep track of physical effort regardless of hills, wind or technical trails.


But no one has yet come up with a gadget for measuring mental toughness. For that, you simply have to suffer. “You’ve got to be broken a little before you can improve your mental strength,” says Ricky Lightfoot. “Without seeing how far you can push it, you’ll never know how much you’re capable of.”






Self Transcendence 3100 Mile

Your best chance of achieving running nirvana or going completely bonkers. Run 3,100 miles (you read that right) over 52 summer days around a single block in Queens, New York: 164th Place to Abigail Adams (84th) Avenue to 168th Street to Grand Central Parkway.


Marathon Des Sables

If, on your regular runs, you find yourself thinking: “I wish I had more sand in my socks,” why not go for the big one? Over six days, masochistic runners cross 156 miles of the Sahara Desert.



An island-to-island “swimrun” near Stockholm, competitors must cross 24 islands, running a total of 40 miles across them and swimming just over six miles between them. Pippa Middleton did it in 2015, so how hard can it be?


Dragon’s Back

A daunting traverse of the whole of Wales from north to south: 200 miles in five days, including about 8.5 miles of ascent. The organisers insist it’s “the toughest 5-day mountain running race in the world.”


Badwater Ultramarathon

Mid-July in California’s Death Valley is a fine place for lizards and cacti, but less so for runners. Nevertheless, people keep attempting this 135 mile course in temperatures of up to 54C.




They’re hyper competitive

“I’m always trying to win, and giving up is like losing. Being mentally strong and trying to carry on to the finish is probably my way of winning,” says Ricky Lightfoot.


They stay in the moment

“I don’t want my mind to wander off from the moment,” says Alistair Brownlee. “If you’re in a race thinking, ‘I can’t do this. I have to make myself do this,’ it would already be too late.”


They stick to a schedule

Says Andy Lane: “Pro athletes’ ability to stick to training programmes is collossal, plus their ability to run on the edge of where it hurts and be okay with that. Most people could get a lot better at learning to cope with more.”


They exhibit inhibitory control

That’s the ability to stay focused on the thing that you want most, even when confronted with two incompatible things, such as A: wanting to finish quickly, and B: not wanting to suffer.


They know it’s not just about effort

Technique is important too. “There’s a balance between going as hard as you can and maintaining your technique,” says Brownlee. “You can try too hard and lose out in another way.”




Reframe your suffering

As author and runner Haruki Murakami reminded us: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” Andy Lane elaborates: “You can train your brain to interpret sensations of fatigue as sensations of goal achievement.”


Repeat yourself

You know for sure that you’re trying harder if you do the same thing again, and do it better.


Set goals

You’re more likely to try harder if you perceive your extra effort as worthwhile. So go for that PB, or that good position.


Do short intervals

The shorter the better, says Lane. “Make each rep short enough for you to go hard and not overthink pacing. When it’s short, you can do another one and develop your ability to say, ‘Yes, I can keep going.’”


Pace yourself smart

“If you did a Parkrun in 20 minutes, the first half in nine and the second half in 11, a lot of people would go by you in the second half and you’d feel awful,” says Lane. “The other way round, you’d be accelerating and finish feeling fabulous.”