Half Marathon next year - should I?
Discussion
Yes
For most people, Half Marathons are eminently do-able in a relatively short training block and recoverable from without completely killing your body.
You can also run one without the hassle of on-the-run nutrition as a pre-requisite (gels/etc)
I run them without taking water on (unless it's low-mid 20C or above)
Full marathons are a different kettle of fish, but go for the half for now!
For most people, Half Marathons are eminently do-able in a relatively short training block and recoverable from without completely killing your body.
You can also run one without the hassle of on-the-run nutrition as a pre-requisite (gels/etc)
I run them without taking water on (unless it's low-mid 20C or above)
Full marathons are a different kettle of fish, but go for the half for now!
Muzzer79 said:
Yes
For most people, Half Marathons are eminently do-able in a relatively short training block and recoverable from without completely killing your body.
You can also run one without the hassle of on-the-run nutrition as a pre-requisite (gels/etc)
I run them without taking water on (unless it's low-mid 20C or above)
Full marathons are a different kettle of fish, but go for the half for now!
This is dangerous advice for people just starting out in longer distance running. For most people, Half Marathons are eminently do-able in a relatively short training block and recoverable from without completely killing your body.
You can also run one without the hassle of on-the-run nutrition as a pre-requisite (gels/etc)
I run them without taking water on (unless it's low-mid 20C or above)
Full marathons are a different kettle of fish, but go for the half for now!
Hydration and fuel for most people are significant factors in enjoyment, recovery and well honestly the chances of getting to the finish line. (1 in 83 don't finish)
Whilst I agree, eating/gels is usually not required. Its a nice boost at half way for most people. Liquids though are a must for most people, in almost every public, open half you will see many folks walking, stopped at feed stations and/or sat at the edge waiting to recover their heart rate and or taking on liquids.
Do go for the half, its a great achievement and there are lots of scenic/fun events out there.
Gargamel said:
Muzzer79 said:
Yes
For most people, Half Marathons are eminently do-able in a relatively short training block and recoverable from without completely killing your body.
You can also run one without the hassle of on-the-run nutrition as a pre-requisite (gels/etc)
I run them without taking water on (unless it's low-mid 20C or above)
Full marathons are a different kettle of fish, but go for the half for now!
This is dangerous advice for people just starting out in longer distance running. For most people, Half Marathons are eminently do-able in a relatively short training block and recoverable from without completely killing your body.
You can also run one without the hassle of on-the-run nutrition as a pre-requisite (gels/etc)
I run them without taking water on (unless it's low-mid 20C or above)
Full marathons are a different kettle of fish, but go for the half for now!
Hydration and fuel for most people are significant factors in enjoyment, recovery and well honestly the chances of getting to the finish line. (1 in 83 don't finish)
Whilst I agree, eating/gels is usually not required. Its a nice boost at half way for most people. Liquids though are a must for most people, in almost every public, open half you will see many folks walking, stopped at feed stations and/or sat at the edge waiting to recover their heart rate and or taking on liquids.
Do go for the half, its a great achievement and there are lots of scenic/fun events out there.
I merely pointed out that a HM is logistically easier than a full marathon.
And I think the fashion for carrying water around on runs up to and including HM is unnecessary in most weather, especially in this country. Hydrate before you go and you will certainly not die through not taking water on for a couple of hours.
Muzzer79 said:
I didn't say that I recommended following my routine as an experienced runner.
I merely pointed out that a HM is logistically easier than a full marathon.
And I think the fashion for carrying water around on runs up to and including HM is unnecessary in most weather, especially in this country. Hydrate before you go and you will certainly not die through not taking water on for a couple of hours.
Ten years ago (when I was doing aerobic stuff) this was me. 21k running with no water and no gels/food, up to 4h riding a bike with just 500ml of water. Longer than those distances and I’d have to hydrate/eat and do so early to fuel for later, but for those distances I could wait until home time. I merely pointed out that a HM is logistically easier than a full marathon.
And I think the fashion for carrying water around on runs up to and including HM is unnecessary in most weather, especially in this country. Hydrate before you go and you will certainly not die through not taking water on for a couple of hours.
I suspect it has a bit to do with physiology though. I’ve always been a bit camel-like even as a child. People I’d race and train with had different needs.
Back to the OP: working up to a HM runnings distance is surprisingly easy provided you don’t get injured. You’re more likely to get injured if you go into running with good cv fitness from something else (swimming, cycling, rowing are the usual culprits) as then your lungs and heart will let you run way beyond when you legs musculature loses form and starts building injuries. A low cv base going into running is sort of self limiting and protects you from injury - you grow cv capacity and form and leg strength together. Then it becomes a question of just building distance.
Just remember to have a plan, and that most casual runners run their slow runs too fast and their fast runs too slow!
13.1 miles is totally doable when you have over 6 months to prepare and currently fit / able bodied enough to take part in the couch to 5k.
a 26.2 mile effort is about 5x as hard as a 13.1 mile effort. Not to take anything away from the half distance, but if you can run without stopping for 5k, then 10k, 10miles and a half are good targets where its not if, but what time you want achieve.
Things only start getting 'different' when you run past 18 miles and strength, conditioning and nutrition come into play and you cant just rely on a base level of fitness.
a 26.2 mile effort is about 5x as hard as a 13.1 mile effort. Not to take anything away from the half distance, but if you can run without stopping for 5k, then 10k, 10miles and a half are good targets where its not if, but what time you want achieve.
Things only start getting 'different' when you run past 18 miles and strength, conditioning and nutrition come into play and you cant just rely on a base level of fitness.
The other side of the coin..
My father nearly died after doing a half marathon but was brought back..
He wrote about it and the out of body experience.. Sorry for the formatting.
Half Marathon Man.
At Aylsham, on May 2nd 1982, I watched the Holt Marathon runners pass, en-route to Norwich. The half marathon runners finishing in Aylsham Market Square. It had an effect on me, in short, I decided to do it myself.
My neighbour was already training, he agreed to take me.
Kitted up, on a June evening, off we jogged. At the village pond, some 150 yards out, I advised him I was completely exhausted and incapable of further movement. 'Perfectly normal.' he said, 'Carry on.' So I did, and I could. That was the first of many runs.
Each practice route had a name. 'Old Church', 2.2 miles. This was generally done on a Friday Night. 'Stratton Strawless.' 4.2 miles. 'The Mayton Loop.' 6.0 miles. And the longest, Skeyton Church, 11.2 miles.
I ran three times a week, normally with my neighbour, but sometimes alone, and a few times, cycle paced. I also ran with my neighbours friend, a stronger runner, he could, and did, run backwards as well as I could go forwards. I stopped running with him.
All these practice runs were hard, sometimes terrible, often worst when I felt particularly fit before starting. I used the 'Rhythmn.' method of running, swinging the momentum of one stride into the next, loose arms, rolling the shoulders. This produced a shuffling gait of barely 6 miles an hour. But I could now keep going, and I enjoyed it, despite the discomfort.
Distance running is daunting in prospect, wearying in execution, but marvellous on completion.
Determination that I would complete this coming half marathon kept me at this training routine. I will give no details of the cycle-pacing, when June would ride past, at speed, holding out a beaker of orange. Nor will I tell you what I called the cow she pointed out to me, ten miles out, on a hot day.
Half-marathon morning at Earlham Park, with the hot air balloons rising, and runners preparing, was alive with colour and movement. Everyone else looked faster than I, some even running round the field to warm up. At 11.0am we were all in a huge bunch, the gun fired and off we streamed. Me and Mike Tagg.
Point one. I was determined to finish. Point two. I was not going to walk. Point three. I was a fool.
It was hot, very. And humid, very. I went too fast for the first mile or so. Seeing what I thought to be all the runners leave me behind I tried to keep up with them. This was not a sound tactic. At the first drinks table, as I ran past, I knocked over six beakers of orange juice. So I didn't drink. At the next drinks stop I knocked the drink from someone's hand. So I didn't drink. At the next drinks stop, I stopped, picked up a beaker full of water, ran on and tipped most of it down my vest. I did clutch sponges of water at some stops, and squeezed them on me and sucked them, they tasted horrible. But I should have had more drink.
In Bluebell Road I felt very weak, but was still running, I wondered if I should stop and walk, but I decided not to. I took no further decisions as I remember no more.
I finished the course on Auto-pilot, and woke up in hospital at 7.0pm.
Thankyou to friend and colleagues who cheered me on the route. Why did I run? and keep running? Why did 1500 people run? not all athletes, many middle aged sedentary men like me. Perhaps the reason is instinct. Prinitive man either ran after his food, or away from animals to which he was food. Our immediate forebears also had their huge physical tasks, just for survival. A navvy moving ten tons a day. A miner 12 hours at the coal face. Evolution takes tens of thousands of years. Have we adjusted to our sedentary life after 50?. I was running away from a sabre-toothe tiger. It nearly got me!
Peter Perkins. Sept 82.
The above was an article for BT magazine.....The following is the rest of the piece which I didn't send to the magazine.
I ran up Bluebell Road, towards Earlham Road..............
I woke up in the middle of the night, in my bed at home. Wider awake than normal, as if alerted by a sudden noise. I assessed my position in bed, I don't know why. I lay flat on my back, arms at my side, palms upwards, legs slightly apart. I lay thinking of nothing but with a realisation that something was wrong.
I could not move. I did not need to try. I knew I couldn't. I don't mean lift an arm or leg. I could not twitch a muscle.
I at once decided I was suffering a heart attack and was dying. I was in no doubt. I first thought, if I could speak, I would say to June, 'Kill me'. 'Get all our aspirins and water and do it.' I had decided on the instant, that as I was in the process, I didn't want a botched job. I would have preferred to die than be quite physically or mentally crippled.
Now, I thought, I can't speak to June, or anyone else again. I wished I had spoken to her at some time and said that if ever I became very brain damaged or similarly invalid I would prefer not to live. But I had never said it. I then decided it didn't matter as I would probably die anyway.
My next thoughts were that, though I am dying, I am conscious, to myself at least. So I will consider carefully the process of dying, to be an interested observer, as it were.
I next thought how terrible it would be for June to wake up to find me dead beside her, or to be woken in the night by my body growing cold.
I was angry, if I hadn't taken that last run I would wake in the morning and all would be normal. But the clock cannot be put back, I saw myself as a stupid man, but resignedly, it was done, I was going, can't un-run the one that killed me.
I was cross, as I now knew dying was easy, how nice to do it at 83, not 43.
Again and again I thought, how silly to run to death. To bike, to run a little would have been fine.
I began, after some time, say 5 minutes, to stop thinking so clearly and coolly. Confusion started in my brain, but my thinking brain seemed to recede again and remain lucid. This point is central to my feelings. At all times I retained a nucleus or spark that was me, but the rest of my normal intellect was not controlled by me.
Noises filled my head, not identifiable. Like banging giant anvils, but not quite. Like a Black and Decker saw, but not like it. Something a bit like barking.
Then sensations, and these the strangest. All over, outside and inside the body, and organs. Coldness, piercing, fluttering. This was not painful but I thought dying takes a long time. I wanted a black curtain to fall and end these noises and sensations.
It seemed to me that the noise and feelings went on for many hours, and I was looking and looking for me just to stop.
among this hullaballoo, I only seemed to have a small bit of 'me' remaining. I tested it, I knew the first word of what I believed I was suffering to be 'heart', but I could not think of 'attack', but I did, with some satisfaction, after a long time, say in my brain, 'Heart Attack'. Then the same test with 'Skeyton', which again eventually came.
I thought, in flashes, of people. In no sense that they or I would be sorry. They were just brief thoughts of particular friends. I thought of Terry Moore, another friend, and his advice of don't run. I thought, he was quite right and I was wrong. But I shan't be able to tell him.
I was still in the midst of the noise and a feeling of cold hands through my brain led me to believe that the blackness would now come, but it did not.
I thought, is my death a waste? No, a baby will be born the second you die, you make no difference.
I was not afraid that I was dying, there was no sensation of courage or endurance, or misery, so no fear. I don't suppose we fear being born either.
My sensations began to take a different turn, literally. I seemed to move, and balance, on parts of my body, with difficulty. Then even stranger postures, though whatever was thinking of them with remained still.
These movements were combined with the sounds and sensations but I still felt no pain, however painful they seemed to be. I began to think I was dead and would remain whirling for ever. But I had always thought dead people were no more, no senses, no feeling, no where, and I thought so still.
Well, I decided, definitely my heart attack has starved my brain of blood, and I was alive, but my brain was dead, except the bit I was now using.
I could not communicate with anyone with this vestige of brain, but I was convinced that in this nucleus I was as sane as ever. I decided I was now lolling in a corner in a mental institution, as completely useless a body as they had ever seen. I had myself seen such people in the past, but now I knew they still had their sanity, it was just locked in.
I still tumbled, more madness, I decided that this was my fate, I would be permanently like this, and accepted it and grew used to it.
The 'Asylum' phase continued for a long time. I then heard among the other sound effects, which had always continued, 'Peter.' ....'Peter.'
Yes, they've come to see me, but I cannot communicate anything, not a vestige of a chance..........Then lights, bright, deep, as if shining up my neck. Then I believe I am wearing a greyhound's muzzle. This muzzle presses hard into my face. I twist on my side, feeling terrible cramps in my stomach, retch as never before. I see the muzzle moved away, see light, see a tanned hand, a blue dress, white coats. 'What day is it Mr Perkins?' 'Do you know where you are?'
I cannot say that I then felt relief, or joy, that I was spared and not dying at all. I just lay there aware only that I was living and may well continue to do so.
This recovery from the unconscious state was at about 7.0pm on Sunday, so 5 hours had elapsed from my collapse, not a much longer time as I had believed.
The treatment continued. I lay naked, before a large fan. I was watered all over, the water evaporated, I was watered again, and again. This continued until my temperature was reduced, I think at around midnight. I then regained my strength and was allowed to come home on Tuesday evening.
As I recovered, and as I am now nearly fully recovered, I am thankful that I am alive. If it was death that touched me, it held no terrors. But life is good and I hope to enjoy a lot more of it, and perhaps appreciate living a little more than I did before.
Peter Perkins
Sept 1982
My father nearly died after doing a half marathon but was brought back..
He wrote about it and the out of body experience.. Sorry for the formatting.
Half Marathon Man.
- *********************
At Aylsham, on May 2nd 1982, I watched the Holt Marathon runners pass, en-route to Norwich. The half marathon runners finishing in Aylsham Market Square. It had an effect on me, in short, I decided to do it myself.
My neighbour was already training, he agreed to take me.
Kitted up, on a June evening, off we jogged. At the village pond, some 150 yards out, I advised him I was completely exhausted and incapable of further movement. 'Perfectly normal.' he said, 'Carry on.' So I did, and I could. That was the first of many runs.
Each practice route had a name. 'Old Church', 2.2 miles. This was generally done on a Friday Night. 'Stratton Strawless.' 4.2 miles. 'The Mayton Loop.' 6.0 miles. And the longest, Skeyton Church, 11.2 miles.
I ran three times a week, normally with my neighbour, but sometimes alone, and a few times, cycle paced. I also ran with my neighbours friend, a stronger runner, he could, and did, run backwards as well as I could go forwards. I stopped running with him.
All these practice runs were hard, sometimes terrible, often worst when I felt particularly fit before starting. I used the 'Rhythmn.' method of running, swinging the momentum of one stride into the next, loose arms, rolling the shoulders. This produced a shuffling gait of barely 6 miles an hour. But I could now keep going, and I enjoyed it, despite the discomfort.
Distance running is daunting in prospect, wearying in execution, but marvellous on completion.
Determination that I would complete this coming half marathon kept me at this training routine. I will give no details of the cycle-pacing, when June would ride past, at speed, holding out a beaker of orange. Nor will I tell you what I called the cow she pointed out to me, ten miles out, on a hot day.
Half-marathon morning at Earlham Park, with the hot air balloons rising, and runners preparing, was alive with colour and movement. Everyone else looked faster than I, some even running round the field to warm up. At 11.0am we were all in a huge bunch, the gun fired and off we streamed. Me and Mike Tagg.
Point one. I was determined to finish. Point two. I was not going to walk. Point three. I was a fool.
It was hot, very. And humid, very. I went too fast for the first mile or so. Seeing what I thought to be all the runners leave me behind I tried to keep up with them. This was not a sound tactic. At the first drinks table, as I ran past, I knocked over six beakers of orange juice. So I didn't drink. At the next drinks stop I knocked the drink from someone's hand. So I didn't drink. At the next drinks stop, I stopped, picked up a beaker full of water, ran on and tipped most of it down my vest. I did clutch sponges of water at some stops, and squeezed them on me and sucked them, they tasted horrible. But I should have had more drink.
In Bluebell Road I felt very weak, but was still running, I wondered if I should stop and walk, but I decided not to. I took no further decisions as I remember no more.
I finished the course on Auto-pilot, and woke up in hospital at 7.0pm.
Thankyou to friend and colleagues who cheered me on the route. Why did I run? and keep running? Why did 1500 people run? not all athletes, many middle aged sedentary men like me. Perhaps the reason is instinct. Prinitive man either ran after his food, or away from animals to which he was food. Our immediate forebears also had their huge physical tasks, just for survival. A navvy moving ten tons a day. A miner 12 hours at the coal face. Evolution takes tens of thousands of years. Have we adjusted to our sedentary life after 50?. I was running away from a sabre-toothe tiger. It nearly got me!
Peter Perkins. Sept 82.
The above was an article for BT magazine.....The following is the rest of the piece which I didn't send to the magazine.
I ran up Bluebell Road, towards Earlham Road..............
I woke up in the middle of the night, in my bed at home. Wider awake than normal, as if alerted by a sudden noise. I assessed my position in bed, I don't know why. I lay flat on my back, arms at my side, palms upwards, legs slightly apart. I lay thinking of nothing but with a realisation that something was wrong.
I could not move. I did not need to try. I knew I couldn't. I don't mean lift an arm or leg. I could not twitch a muscle.
I at once decided I was suffering a heart attack and was dying. I was in no doubt. I first thought, if I could speak, I would say to June, 'Kill me'. 'Get all our aspirins and water and do it.' I had decided on the instant, that as I was in the process, I didn't want a botched job. I would have preferred to die than be quite physically or mentally crippled.
Now, I thought, I can't speak to June, or anyone else again. I wished I had spoken to her at some time and said that if ever I became very brain damaged or similarly invalid I would prefer not to live. But I had never said it. I then decided it didn't matter as I would probably die anyway.
My next thoughts were that, though I am dying, I am conscious, to myself at least. So I will consider carefully the process of dying, to be an interested observer, as it were.
I next thought how terrible it would be for June to wake up to find me dead beside her, or to be woken in the night by my body growing cold.
I was angry, if I hadn't taken that last run I would wake in the morning and all would be normal. But the clock cannot be put back, I saw myself as a stupid man, but resignedly, it was done, I was going, can't un-run the one that killed me.
I was cross, as I now knew dying was easy, how nice to do it at 83, not 43.
Again and again I thought, how silly to run to death. To bike, to run a little would have been fine.
I began, after some time, say 5 minutes, to stop thinking so clearly and coolly. Confusion started in my brain, but my thinking brain seemed to recede again and remain lucid. This point is central to my feelings. At all times I retained a nucleus or spark that was me, but the rest of my normal intellect was not controlled by me.
Noises filled my head, not identifiable. Like banging giant anvils, but not quite. Like a Black and Decker saw, but not like it. Something a bit like barking.
Then sensations, and these the strangest. All over, outside and inside the body, and organs. Coldness, piercing, fluttering. This was not painful but I thought dying takes a long time. I wanted a black curtain to fall and end these noises and sensations.
It seemed to me that the noise and feelings went on for many hours, and I was looking and looking for me just to stop.
among this hullaballoo, I only seemed to have a small bit of 'me' remaining. I tested it, I knew the first word of what I believed I was suffering to be 'heart', but I could not think of 'attack', but I did, with some satisfaction, after a long time, say in my brain, 'Heart Attack'. Then the same test with 'Skeyton', which again eventually came.
I thought, in flashes, of people. In no sense that they or I would be sorry. They were just brief thoughts of particular friends. I thought of Terry Moore, another friend, and his advice of don't run. I thought, he was quite right and I was wrong. But I shan't be able to tell him.
I was still in the midst of the noise and a feeling of cold hands through my brain led me to believe that the blackness would now come, but it did not.
I thought, is my death a waste? No, a baby will be born the second you die, you make no difference.
I was not afraid that I was dying, there was no sensation of courage or endurance, or misery, so no fear. I don't suppose we fear being born either.
My sensations began to take a different turn, literally. I seemed to move, and balance, on parts of my body, with difficulty. Then even stranger postures, though whatever was thinking of them with remained still.
These movements were combined with the sounds and sensations but I still felt no pain, however painful they seemed to be. I began to think I was dead and would remain whirling for ever. But I had always thought dead people were no more, no senses, no feeling, no where, and I thought so still.
Well, I decided, definitely my heart attack has starved my brain of blood, and I was alive, but my brain was dead, except the bit I was now using.
I could not communicate with anyone with this vestige of brain, but I was convinced that in this nucleus I was as sane as ever. I decided I was now lolling in a corner in a mental institution, as completely useless a body as they had ever seen. I had myself seen such people in the past, but now I knew they still had their sanity, it was just locked in.
I still tumbled, more madness, I decided that this was my fate, I would be permanently like this, and accepted it and grew used to it.
The 'Asylum' phase continued for a long time. I then heard among the other sound effects, which had always continued, 'Peter.' ....'Peter.'
Yes, they've come to see me, but I cannot communicate anything, not a vestige of a chance..........Then lights, bright, deep, as if shining up my neck. Then I believe I am wearing a greyhound's muzzle. This muzzle presses hard into my face. I twist on my side, feeling terrible cramps in my stomach, retch as never before. I see the muzzle moved away, see light, see a tanned hand, a blue dress, white coats. 'What day is it Mr Perkins?' 'Do you know where you are?'
I cannot say that I then felt relief, or joy, that I was spared and not dying at all. I just lay there aware only that I was living and may well continue to do so.
This recovery from the unconscious state was at about 7.0pm on Sunday, so 5 hours had elapsed from my collapse, not a much longer time as I had believed.
The treatment continued. I lay naked, before a large fan. I was watered all over, the water evaporated, I was watered again, and again. This continued until my temperature was reduced, I think at around midnight. I then regained my strength and was allowed to come home on Tuesday evening.
As I recovered, and as I am now nearly fully recovered, I am thankful that I am alive. If it was death that touched me, it held no terrors. But life is good and I hope to enjoy a lot more of it, and perhaps appreciate living a little more than I did before.
Peter Perkins
Sept 1982
Hugo Stiglitz said:
Dr Murdoch said:
Hugo Stiglitz said:
Currently in week 4 of couch to 5k...
No I'm not interested in building up by doing a 5k event. That's never been my style
Age and Porky factor required...No I'm not interested in building up by doing a 5k event. That's never been my style
As a counter to the gung-ho "you'll be fine" posts.
I've been running for about 8 years, started with C25K, quickly got up to a half hour 5k and within another 6 months or so had built to 5k in 26 mins or so and 10k in just over an hour. Early 40s at the time, slightly overweight but generally healthy. Running twice a week on average.
Started trying to build up the range, but hit a massive wall at about 14k I didn't seem to be able to get past.
Granted with the way my work goes I find it difficult to keep a regular training routine, and intervals/long runs/short fast runs etc has been beyond my planning (generally just "I have 30 mins for a 5k)". Got into Parkrun too although I normally work Saturdays.
Nothing has really changed over the last few years. RHR tends to be in 40s. Did have some time earlier this year and managed to get my game back where it had been - 5k in 27 mins or so, managed to get my 10k to about 55 mins,
But I still don't feel I have a half in me. Would love to do one but I feel I would need to do some proper regular training over a few months. Likewise I don't ever see myself getting my 5k time under 25 minutes, I'm just not built right. So I think some caution needs to be applied to the idea.
Having said that my brother is 2 years younger than me, never trains and managed to get his 5k under 20 mins. Did the Great North Run a couple of years ago with zero training and wearing his girlfriends trainers and did it in under 2 hours, so what do I know!?
I've been running for about 8 years, started with C25K, quickly got up to a half hour 5k and within another 6 months or so had built to 5k in 26 mins or so and 10k in just over an hour. Early 40s at the time, slightly overweight but generally healthy. Running twice a week on average.
Started trying to build up the range, but hit a massive wall at about 14k I didn't seem to be able to get past.
Granted with the way my work goes I find it difficult to keep a regular training routine, and intervals/long runs/short fast runs etc has been beyond my planning (generally just "I have 30 mins for a 5k)". Got into Parkrun too although I normally work Saturdays.
Nothing has really changed over the last few years. RHR tends to be in 40s. Did have some time earlier this year and managed to get my game back where it had been - 5k in 27 mins or so, managed to get my 10k to about 55 mins,
But I still don't feel I have a half in me. Would love to do one but I feel I would need to do some proper regular training over a few months. Likewise I don't ever see myself getting my 5k time under 25 minutes, I'm just not built right. So I think some caution needs to be applied to the idea.
Having said that my brother is 2 years younger than me, never trains and managed to get his 5k under 20 mins. Did the Great North Run a couple of years ago with zero training and wearing his girlfriends trainers and did it in under 2 hours, so what do I know!?
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