Antony Tyzack

Dedication to the Cause 🏃‍♂️

Today’s plan: majestic long run at midday, basking in the sunshine like some kind of athletic Greek god.

Reality: customers at work apparently needed… things. Questions. Help. Buying stuff. Honestly, the nerve. Time disappeared, and before I knew it I was off coaching the rugby team while my long run plan slowly packed its bags and left.

Fast forward to 8:30pm.
“Right then,” I say to myself. “How bad can it be?”

Headtorch? Nope.
Daylight? Also nope.
Motivation? Questionable.

Tunes on. Off we go.

Fast forward again to mile 18 when my phone starts buzzing like it’s trying to escape my pocket. It’s the Mrs. After a few colourful words and some creative explanations, I’m being rescued at 12:30am. Oops.

Still… it was a lovely run. I saw a fox, a hedgehog, and a deer.

…Or possibly a naked man.

Hard to say in the dark.

But whatever it was, it definitely had a white bum.

Training Log: When a “Quick 6” Turns Into a Life Lesson

Today’s plan was simple: a nice, sensible 6-mile run. Just a gentle outing. Stretch the legs, get some fresh air, return home feeling smug and moderately athletic.

Six miles. Easy.

Somewhere around mile five, however, my brain did that runner thing where logic quietly packs its bags and leaves the building.

“Well,” I thought, “I’m basically at six already… might as well make it ten. Double digits sounds impressive. Very professional runner behaviour.”

So off I went, feeling quite pleased with myself. Ten miles was happening. I was thriving. Olympic selectors were probably watching somewhere.

Then I approached that road. You know the one. The boring one. The one that feels uphill in both directions. Obviously I couldn’t go that way, so I took a “better” route.

This is where things escalated.

Ten miles came and went. I was still running.
“Twelve sounds nice,” I told myself. “Good solid distance.”
Then thirteen arrived and suddenly I thought, “Well it would be rude not to keep going now.”

Fast forward to 15 miles.

This is the moment my legs filed an official complaint with management and introduced me to their good friend: cramp.

There I was, hobbling slightly, calling for pickup like a defeated explorer who had ventured far beyond the map.

The main takeaway from today’s training?

Apparently electrolytes actually work. Who knew? All this time people have been recommending them and I assumed it was just a conspiracy by sports drink companies.

So the new strategy moving forward:

• Continue running.
• Continue getting accidentally carried away.
• Maybe… possibly… occasionally… take electrolytes before the cramp gremlins arrive.

All in all, not bad for a “quick 6 miler.”

Final tally:
Planned: 6 miles
Accidental ambition: 10 miles
Poor navigation decisions: +5 miles
Cramp: 1
Runner’s dignity: questionable

But hey if suffering builds character, this fundraising run is going to turn me into a very impressive human being.

You LEGENDS!

Well… somehow you absolute legends have helped us smash past £1000 !! 🤯💙 Vicky and I are genuinely over the moon Asthma and Lung UK is such an incredible cause, and knowing you’ve all backed us like this makes every mile (even the wheezy, questionable ones) feel worth it 😂🏃‍♂️💨

We’re now down to just TWO long runs before taper time… which basically means less running but somehow more panic, more carb-loading, and definitely more talking about the marathon than anyone asked for 🙃🍝

Seriously though thank you all so much for your support, donations, messages, and for pretending our running updates are interesting. You’ve carried us this far… now just 26.2 miles to go! 😅🎉

Next month. NEXT. MONTH!

The London Marathon is no longer a distant, “future me will deal with that” problem. It’s now very much a “current me is limping slightly down the stairs” situation.

This week’s achievements: a casual 14-miler and a cheeky 6-miler thrown in for good measure. “Smashed out” is technically correct, although “survived with dignity mostly intact” might be more accurate. The legs? Oh, they’re talking. Loudly. Every step sounds like a group chat of complaints: calves whining, quads filing formal grievances, and hamstrings threatening to unionise.

But spirits? Weirdly high. Borderline delusional, even.

There’s something about ticking off those miles that makes you feel unstoppable… right up until you try to sit down and miss the chair slightly because your legs have forgotten how angles work.

Also, noteworthy milestone: nobody has tried to crash into me for a few weeks now. Either my dodging skills have improved dramatically, or I’ve developed the thousand-yard stare of someone mid-marathon training that says, “approach at your own risk.” Either way, we take the wins where we can.

Of course, looming on the horizon are the next two weeks… aka The Brutal Bit™. Two mega long runs. The kind where you start questioning your life choices around mile 10 and are fully negotiating with your soul by mile 18. Snacks will be planned with military precision. Routes will be debated. Weather apps will be obsessively refreshed like they personally control my fate.

And yet… there’s excitement in the madness.

Because somehow, despite the aching legs, the questionable life decisions, and the growing suspicion that stairs are my greatest enemy, it’s all coming together. Slowly. Painfully. But definitely happening.

Roll on marathon day.

I’ll be the one shuffling heroically, powered by stubbornness, snacks, and the firm belief that I signed up for this… for reasons that are still unclear.

Sun’s Out, Lungs Out ☀️🏃‍♀️

First proper run in the sunshine and honestly? It felt borderline illegal. Six miles absolutely sailed by. Like, who even am I?

Training for the London Marathon with Asthma + Lung UK means I’ve had plenty of runs where my lungs and I have been in a full-blown domestic dispute. But today? Today we were in a stable, loving relationship.

The sun was shining, the legs were legging, and my breathing behaved itself for once which, frankly, deserves its own medal. I set off telling myself I’d “just see how it goes” (classic liar behaviour), and before I knew it I was six miles down thinking, “Well, that was suspiciously not horrific.”

Don’t get me wrong, I was still sweating like I’d committed tax fraud, but it was the good kind the smug, endorphin-fuelled glow where you start mentally drafting your acceptance speech for Runner of the Year.

If this is what spring marathon training feels like, sign me up. Just maybe remind me of this moment when I’m wheezing into a headwind next week.

Onwards. 🌬️💙

This Week in Marathon Training: Near Death, Near Hypothermia & Questionable Life Choices

Long run ✅ …but this week it was completed on a treadmill 🤢

Running outside in -8°C didn’t sound like much fun, so the “long run” happened in the gym instead which is definitely a different experience to the great outdoors! Instead of fresh air and scenery, it was people-watching at its finest while sweating buckets and trying not to fall off the treadmill out of pure boredom.

Safe to say I’m looking forward to getting back outside soon, but miles are miles and London Marathon training for Team Breath continues! Every run (even the sweaty indoor ones) is for an amazing cause, so thank you so much to everyone who has supported and donated so far it really does keep me going when the legs (and motivation) start to wobble.

Running is fun… lol. The Plan vs Reality: early mornings, sore legs, and questioning all our life choices 😅🏃‍♂️🏃‍♀️

Training update! 🏃‍♂️💪

Things are going surprisingly well legs still work, spirits are high, and I haven’t been chased by a dog yet (this week).

I’m fundraising while training, and every bit of support makes a huge difference. If you’d like to cheer me on, laugh at my mileage, or silently judge my pace, come follow me on Strava 👉 https://www.strava.com/athletes/8795080 

And if you’re feeling inspired, join us for a run / walk / crawl all speeds welcome, dramatic finishes encouraged.

Thanks for the support, the motivation, and the occasional “you’ve got this!” 🧡