Race Day Preparation Advice – The Do’s and Don’ts Guide That Will Make You Even Worse At Running Than You Are Now.
Worried about running your first ever race?
Then you’re in for quite a treat tonight! Follow Angry Jogger’s race-day preparation and you’ll be certain to finish your key 10k in 19 hours or less.
Here they are.
- Do train for only one set of weather conditions - Training in LA for your marathon in Nuuk, Greenland is perfectly adequate. If it snows on race day blame Thor for having the gall to shit ice on your parade.
- Don’t research the race start time - Every race starts at 10am and if they don’t complain and get a refund. Besides it’s quite stimulating turning up to the race with only a minute to go to the start. It only means you will begin behind the walkers and the charity fancy dress crowd.
- Do drink as much alcohol as you can the night before - Sure you’ll be able to avoid a case of the shits if you have a few shots of Immodium pre-race. The nervous hangover will fuel you onto glory.
- Don’t find out where the baggage area is - It will always be at the start line. Or the finish line. Or at the expo. Remember – there will never be queues and if there are you can punch your way to the front of them. You’re the star. If the worst comes to the worst you can run the race with your backpack on like fucking Rambo!
- Do drink 3 litres of water one hour before the start of the race, especially if there aren’t toilets in the starting area - It’s always find trying to find a street, Wynd or bin to urinate into 5 minutes before the starting gun.
- Don’t stick to your plan - Run free and fast as possible and try to maintain for as long as your heart is still pumping the blood.
- Do stop on the finishing line - Stretch your legs, revel in your accomplishment and try your best to dodge the 3,000 infuriated runners who are swarming through the finishing line and around you like angry Africanised bees.
- Don’t change out of your sweaty gear after the run - Doing so is bad luck. Wait until you have to physically cut yourself out of your race clothes before doing so. Your friends and family will rejoice in your heroic pong.
- Do look forward to the goody bags - Especially if you’re fond of collecting brochures, leaflets and coupons for beauty products and running shoes.
- Don’t warn your family or friends about the condition they’ll find you in at the end of the race - Nipples hanging off, toes in the wrong shoes. Sure if you’re really that hurt, your maw and pop can throw you into the back of their car and leave you for dead like the cramping shank of rotten ham you are.
- Do tell everyone how disappointed you are with your finishing time after the race - Make sure there are as many beginner runners around you when you start saying stuff like “Yes I’m so ashamed to have finished my first half marathon in 1:25. Completely pathetic. I’m gonna give up. I can’t run for toffee!”.
- Don’t research the course elevation profile before the race - You’ll ruin the surprise of the sudden 5,000ft elevation hike over mile 9 and the race will be boring as a result.
- Do run with your girlfriends and/or guyfriends in one horizontal line - You’re turning a normal half marathon road race into an obstacle course akin to Tough Mudder or the Spartan Race. The people behind you will either be willing to stay behind you until you’ve got bored of taking selfies of yourself, or will happily vault over you like they’re Red fucking Rum gunning over Becher’s Brook.
- Don’t worry if you haven’t trained at all for the race - Run as fast and as hard as you can and your self-loathing and inner resolve will show you through to the end.
- Do ignore everyone on the course - Your journey is the one that matters. Every one else is either too stupid to run in the same direction as everyone else or just too fucking lazy to bother with. Put in the earphones, listen to your music and focus on how great it feels in your ears to listen to Moby’s ‘I Lost My Cock To A Friendly Toaster’ 50 times on repeat. Yeah baby. You’re the fucking rock star.
- Don’t run in a straight line in busy sections of the race - Change speed and direction as often as possible to show that you’re a free spirit. Everyone around you will have good enough reactions to stop themselves careening into the back of you.
- Do throw your half empty water bottles away as dramatically and as carelessly as possible - I recommend hurling it violently across to the far side of the road and hoping it doesn’t rebound off the curb and clip a midget. You’ll look cool and sporting in front of your peers.
- Don’t bring any toilet paper with you on your run - Always assume that there will be toilets on the route. This is the Western World not the Antarctic. We are humans, not penguins. Sure if you’re in urgent need of a shit you can do what I did and improvise by wiping your ass with nettles.
- Do keep on running if you take a wrong turn on a poorly marshalled route - You might end up running 100 miles to earn your half marathon medal but the important thing is to not quit.
- Don’t ever stop running - You must run through all water stops. Grab a bottle of water if you have to, but don’t slow down to quench your thirst. Prove that you’re on your way to being an athlete by speeding up when you’re drinking. If you vomit you vomit. And if you vomit, don’t fucking stop. Stopping is for pussies.
Ach – where were you on Saturday night?! After my inaugural marathon (during which I did a great many of these things) I have a couple to add.
Do arrange to drive the length of the country the following day to be back at work. Then hobble around motorway service stations guzzling pizza in Primark tracksuit bottoms and a dirty fleece, while people talk to you in their special loud and clear voices.
Do follow the “nutrition strategy” published by leading energy gel manufacturers: it’s not like they’re evil. They may be OK in training, but on top of a dodgy chain spaghetti the previous evening and a hotel breakfast, an internal fermentation process inflates you to the point that passing children remark “look, Mummy – that one’s running with a baby.” After a quickening at the halfway mark, and full-on contractions by mile 15, the “baby” met its gaseous demise in public toilets at mile 18, mercifully masked by a passing troupe of samba drummers. And again at miles 20, 22, the finish line, and the train home. I have scars from where my bum-bag reached its elastic limit. Over the following 24 hours I really learned to appreciate the blessings of a solid bowel movement.
omg…my thoughts exactly
“Your journey is the one that matters. “”You’re the fucking rock star.”
“Change speed and direction as often as possible to show that you’re a free spirit.”-
Melissa