Marathon training is tough

Marathon training is actually really tough. In my last post, I talked about the key reasons behind my switch from the fells to the road. If you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, go check it out!

At the beginning of this wild adventure, I sat down with my coach and longtime Mountain Fuel confidant, Dave Troman, to lay out my grand marathon ambitions. Hopes, dreams, and perhaps a touch of delusion—we covered it all. Dave wasted no time in warning me about the sheer suffering that lay ahead. “Oh, I know,” I foolishly assured him, brimming with misplaced confidence.

“You’re going to be doing a lot of long runs… on the road,” he responded, with just enough hesitation to let the horror sink in.

Yet there I was, grinning away, blissfully ignoring the grim reality—four months of pounding the same strips of tarmac while missing out on all the fun. Dave, ever the voice of reason, continued laying out what was to come. He wasn’t trying to scare me off, but I could tell he knew I hadn’t fully grasped what I’d just signed up for. And honestly? He was absolutely right.

I made peace with my new reality pretty quickly—my family, however, did not. This morning marked the 26th time my dad has asked why I’m not out on the fells, given the glorious weather.

“I’m marathon training, Norm,” I replied, yet again.

“Well, when your mam did her marathon, she still managed both!” he shot back.

At that point, how could I possibly argue? Ailie Tonkin, the undisputed champion of marathon running in our family, had trained for— and completed — a race faster than me. The best I could muster was, “I’m doing a session down the line. I’ll see you later”. I then set off to run down the old Keswick to Threlkeld Railway line for the millionth time this year. Norm was sadly right though. It’s a beautiful day. As I’m warming up I thought “I could sack this off and go up Blencathra!” But no, I can’t. I strap on my imaginary horse blinkers to prevent me looking up to the fells and do my session.

One thing I have quickly learnt is that whilst we are truly blessed with the best fells in the country, the Lake District isn’t a terribly good place to train for a road marathon. I have well and truly exhausted any flat low traffic strips of tarmac. I know every single step of the back of Thirlmere now and exactly how far each landmark is from my front door.

I’ve been steering clear of the fells lately, not because I’ve fallen out of love with them, but because I’m chasing something they simply can’t give me—consistency. Training at a steady pace? On the fells? Neigh on Impossible. So, in a rare display of bravery (or questionable decision-making), I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone and embraced the most soul-destroying part of running: the boring, grinding hard work.

To break the three-hour marathon barrier, I’ll need to maintain a pace of at least 6:52 minutes per mile. As a fell runner, that sounds less like a training target and more like an elaborate prank. But here I am, pounding the tarmac and pretending this is all completely normal. I’ve grown a bit jealous of my Strava friends from the flatter areas of the UK. Who can do 15-20 mile runs with little over 60ft of ascent. I’d love a training route like that which isn’t just up and down the same stretch of land. It would be a fantastic indicator as to where I am at with my training. In my search for flat runs where I can focus on data and numbers, I am currently doing a lot of out and backs, or loops.

Initially boredom was a massive issue. Though over time it has callused the mind. I now feel excited to look at the numbers I would always avoid on a fell race. I am even really starting to understand what they all truly mean and how they are applicable. This whole marathon phase has partially been about becoming a better and more informed runner. Giving me more tools in my arsenal to take back to the fells.

Talking of arsenals.

I've always been incredibly particular about my choice of running shoes. My collection is nothing short of impressive, featuring niche pairs reserved for just one specific race or run. This obsession has now spilled over into my road running. I honestly believe this is why training has gone so well.

In the world of off-road running, carbon-plated shoes are little more than a gimmick. My grandad always used to say, “That grip is in your head,” meaning no shoe alone will make you a better runner. What they can do, however, is boost your confidence—especially when hurtling downhill at questionable speeds. But when it comes to road running? Oh, they make one hell of a difference.

I don’t think they make me any faster, but they do work wonders for recovery time. And in marathon training, consistency is everything. Nothing sabotages that consistency quite like DOMS—when your legs are so tired and wrecked from a tough run that your brain immediately spirals into, “I can’t train today. I’m instantly going to become unfit and die.” (Okay, maybe that’s just me.)

Most of the shoes in my current rotation have some form of plate or rods, and honestly, my legs have never felt better—even as I relentlessly rack up the miles.

I’ve spent hundreds of hours watching shoe reviews and, let’s be real, far too much money assembling my dream lineup. But here it is:

• Adidas Boston 12 – A fantastic daily trainer that isn't afraid of a bit of speed. My club captain, Mark Lamb, turned up to the 12-stage Road Relays in a pair of completely knackered Hoka trail shoes. I lent him these, and he promptly ran a 15:55 5K in them. He handed them back with a nod: “Aye, good them, Tonk.” I smiled, agreed, and then sincerely apologized to the shoes—because they would never go that fast again.
• Adidas Adizero Pro 2 & Takumi Sen 10 – Lightweight and cushioned beauties for sessions and tempo runs. The responsiveness is chef’s kiss.
• Adidas Prime Strung X 2 – Technically illegal due to their excessive stack height. The first time I put them on, I gained a solid two inches in height. Rachael May instantly declared me more attractive and then asked if I could finally reach the dust on top of the fridge. Perfect for long runs—and household chores, apparently.
• Adidas Adizero Pro 4 – My marathon shoe. Similar to the Pro 2 but lighter, bouncier, and, most importantly, the exact shade of yellow that matches my Keswick AC vest.

I truly believe this rotation is one of the main reasons I’ve managed to stay injury and niggle-free throughout this training block. Either that, or I’ve somehow bribed my legs into cooperating. Either way, I’m not questioning it.

Another key factor in staying injury-free has been dialling in my nutrition—no small feat considering I have Crohn’s Disease. Six years ago, I embarked on a mission to find the perfect pre-run breakfast, testing out all sorts of options. Unfortunately, most of them resulted in an urgent need to locate the nearest bush within a few miles. Then, by some stroke of luck, I discovered the magic of poached eggs on toast. More importantly, they actually work for me! Since that revelation, they’ve been my go-to breakfast almost every day for the past six years—and my stomach has never been happier.

When it comes to finding the perfect nutrition for both life and running, I’m always up for a bit of trial and error. I’ll give just about anything a go — except bananas. But that’s a tale for another day!

Coach Dave and I have had countless discussions about nutrition, and together we’ve crafted a strategy that suits me perfectly. One key lesson I’ve picked up? There’s never a bad time to top up on carbs when running—it’s always a good idea!

I’ve had a Mountain Fuel Jelly strapped to me for just about every run this year—at this point, I think it’s part of my personality. It’s been great for practicing fuelling at speed, which, up until now, was completely foreign to me. In fell running, I’d usually wait for a brutally steep climb to casually refuel, but road running demands a whole new skill set. Let’s just say, trying to wrestle open a gel while hurtling along at sub-6-minute mile pace feels less like nutrition and more like an extreme sport.

The better we fuel, the better we race and recovery. If you are wanting to train seriously, then start by training your gut!

I’m in my final big week of training before the glorious taper begins. The sun is shining, the legs are (mostly) intact, and I’m about to lace up my Boston 12s to run a 5K—at roughly a third of the speed Lamby managed in them. Honestly, by the time this is over, I might just hand them over to him permanently, so they can once again experience what it’s like to move with purpose.

It’s been great to see so many people enjoying the first blog post! In the next one, I’ll be diving into my race day plans and anything absurd that happens during the taper weeks. Until then, I’ll be out there, plodding along in shoes that deserve better.

If you missed Jacobs first blog post, read it here