A year ago, in a haze of optimism (or as Mary has muttered ever since… utter stupidity), I signed Mary and myself up for an Easter break event with Phoenix Running.
Unfortunately, Mary didn’t have enough holiday for a TiT (Ten in Ten) or a TwiT (Twelve in Twelve), so we had to settle for the entry-level FiFi — 5 events in 5 days. Because obviously, five marathons in five days is the sensible “starter option.”
All was going well… Thrilling Thursday was boosting my training, confidence was high, and I was practically an athlete. Then, disaster struck.
An Achilles injury, followed by a lung infection took me from running like a gazelle… to wheezing like a broken accordion and moving like a zombie who’d pulled a hamstring.
So, naturally, this event became all about Mary.
Day 1 – Maundy Thursday – THE START
Leaving home at a time that shouldn’t legally exist, we arrived in Walton around 7:30 to collect our named reusable material bibs and timing chips before tackling the 3.28-mile lap along the Thames.
Since COVID, Phoenix Running have ditched the mass start in favour of “rock up, ready, run.” Which is great, because it allows slower runners like me to start early and still finish… theoretically.
As we signed up for the “any distance” option, I was relieved — one lap = finisher. Elite stuff.
Mary, however, needed 8 laps for her marathon.
After a 10-minute warm-up walk, Mary sensibly ditched me to actually achieve something.
Watching her arrive at the aid station (aka the sweet shop) for her final lap, I did what any supportive partner/coach would do… told her off. She was going too fast. This was a multi-day endurance event, not a one-day hero mission.
So I did my duty and slowed her down by making her walk the last lap. Slowly. Very slowly. Painfully slowly. Possibly backwards at one point.
With marathon one in the bag, we checked into the hotel and headed to Tesco for a meal deal. Proper athlete nutrition. I even let her have the premium option — because I’m generous like that.
Day 2 – Good Friday – THE ONE WITH THE FOAM ROLLER
The aid station remains in the same place but alternating days alternating direction on the Thames… No.Sunbury Locks but Walton Marina.
Arriving earlier (so early on a Bank Holiday that the Leisure Centre carpark was closed) we had to park on a yellow line, with a no parking between 10-11am sign. Surely this wouldn’t be enforced on a Bank Holiday when the schools were closed?
Still digesting a choc au pain, Mary walked out to the turn point like a model of discipline.
I, meanwhile, adopted what I can only describe as a tactically questionable run/walk strategy: walk out, run back because it was “downhill.”
For context, this is a flat riverside towpath. The only incline is the Blue Bridge of Doom — a structure many on the Multiday Runners now consider a mountain.
Just after 9:30 I deviated off course to move my car… Following a 100 Club Marathoner as both of us were paranoid. Parking in the Leisure Centre, I decided as Costa was open it was a sign! Large latte in hand, I resumed my lap!
Mary, being sensible, stopped for a Twister ice lolly and a latte on her cool down lap. Meanwhile, I was falling apart like a budget deckchair.
Concerned about my knee, I did what every injured runner does — Googled it and diagnosed myself with something catastrophic before settling on the least terrifying option.
Collecting the car, we passed loads with yellow parking tickets attached to windows. I would have leapt for joy that I saved myself a ticket but I am sure that would have caused something else to twang.
Post-race, we went to Sports Direct for a foam roller and Tesco for food… and a bag of frozen vegetables, because nothing says “elite athlete” like icing your knee with budget peas.
Back at the hotel, I spent the evening watching YouTube videos, groaning, stretching, and questioning every life decision that led me here.
Day 3 – Easter Saturday – THE GOOD SAMARITAN
My strategy: do a lap, let Mary rack up miles, sneak off to a new parkrun, come back, repeat. Genius. Flawless. Definitely wouldn’t backfire.
My knee felt better… right up until Woking parkrun introduced me to a hill. 4 times!
After finishing, I bumped into a TiT runner who’d travelled over for a new event but was worried about making the cut-off back at Walton.
So I gave him a lift — proving that while I may not be a good runner, I am at least a decent taxi service. Uber Daniel!
Back at the course, I shuffled through another lap while Mary cruised to marathon number three like it was just a casual Sunday stroll.
Day 4 – Easter Sunday – …or Christmas?
At this point, delirium had set in.
The aid station had a Christmas tree. There were elves. Runners in festive outfits. At least one Father Christmas. Possibly two reindeer.
Either I’d entered the wrong event, or my body had finally given up and my brain was freewheeling.
Note for others (mainly because I clearly never read emails): check the race instructions… apparently they sometimes include themes (Pirates on Day 7, or Christmas on Easter Sunday—because of course they do).
This would have been very useful to know before I tried to pack five tops that actually fit, only to realise my one decent option is… a Christmas-themed one. So I had to rock a lot of parkrun merch on the wrong days!
Mary stuck to her now well-oiled routine. I walked a lap, then went off to volunteer at junior parkrun — I was given the critical role of funnel manager and chocolate egg distribution… and nearly all the eggs made it to the children!
Returning later, I did another lap, then rewarded myself by sitting in the Boat House Café with a flat white like I’d actually earned it.
Mary completed marathon four. Effortlessly. At this point, I was essentially her slightly broken support crew.
Day 5 – Easter Monday – MARY THE MACHINE
A different atmosphere this morning — part excitement, part exhaustion, part “why did we think this was a good idea?”
The early 6:30 start was to give Mary the maximum time before the cut-off. Not that she needed it — she’d been absolutely smashing it all weekend.
I, meanwhile, was just grateful to still be vaguely operational.
We started together, then she set off on her now textbook walk/run strategy while I continued my slow-moving tour of the aid station offerings.
Foam shrimps, bananas, Welsh cakes, cheese… essentially carbo-loading for the two laps I might manage.
At the end of lap two, I fell into bad company — a soon-to-be 100 Marathon Club member — and got dragged into a social run/walk. Loads of chat interspersed with running on the softer bits.
Mary, now officially “The Machine,” powered through her fifth marathon while listening to Classic FM like some sort of unstoppable, cultured endurance robot.
Five marathons. Five days. Done.
We briefly considered signing up again next year… possibly upgrading to TiTs.
Then sanity hit… school holidays start later next year so that rules me out! BUT maybe a FoFo?!
Day 6 – The Walk to Breakfast
Garmin body batteries: “1.”
Status: “Unproductive.”
Recommendation: “Rest for approximately 84 years.”
We made it to the hotel breakfast buffet… eventually.
Neither of us were entirely sure we had the strength to make it back with food, but Mary rocking her orange multiday runner hoodie to the max.