Seven Black Toenails, Cher and the Adios Pro 5

Never Fade Never Quit

As I sit drafting this blog, Cher is singing on the radio , the song Am I strong enough ? .

Well, she’s not really , she’s coming through YouTube Music, but I refuse to submit completely to the digital world.

After all, I was born in the monogram era. Black-and-white television. The days when not everyone seemed to own a television because nobody could afford one.

Like most we rented ours from a company called Rediffusion, who delivered it in a white van. My Dad ordered it in time for the World Cup final.

I love the way writing does this.

You start writing about running and Cher pops into your head and somehow I end up in 1966. A typical black-and-white set could cost around five to eight shillings a week according to ChatGPT — which sounds almost laughable now, until you remember that a pint of beer was about two and sixpence. This was pre decimalisation for the Generation X and above readers , hopefully there are some baby boomers still reading along , but for the others perspective:

• 5 shillings = 25p

• 8 shillings = 40p

• A 19-inch B&W television cost around £73 to buy outright in 1966.

• The monochrome TV licence was £5 at the time.

Anyway, Cher is singing Am I Strong Enough?

And, as it happens, that is rather a fitting question as I wrestle with the final peak week of my marathon training for Amsterdam.

H and I actually had the pleasure of seeing Cher live in the 1990s. She wasn't exactly a young woman then, but she could still rock the house.

Cher, not Helen.

Helen remains, of course, eternally young.

I digress.

Back to the running.

I have spent most of this year training for marathons. The first part of the year was devoted to the spring marathon — the Marathon of Roundabouts, otherwise known as Milton Keynes — followed by a month's recovery before starting all over again for the autumn marathon.

The climax of this particular exercise in endurance, questionable judgement and carbohydrate consumption takes place in Amsterdam in just over three weeks.

If I successfully complete it, it will be my fifth marathon, alongside my three London Marathon appearances.

Five marathons feels like a reasonable point at which to stop and ask the question: Do I actually want to keep doing this?

I have, rather inconveniently, already entered the Rome Marathon in March, so any serious decision-making will have to wait until after that.

My current thinking is that two marathons a year is probably sufficient.

That isn't simply me looking for an excuse to spend more time drinking coffee and looking at running shoes. It is also a view supported by the medical and performance people I have spoken to, particularly if the objective is performance improvement rather than simply participation.

Running a marathon is an achievement.

Trying to run a marathon faster than the last one is an entirely different form of madness.

But now is not the time for reflection.

I am tired.

I am at the back end of a heavy training block and have put 1,513 miles into my legs since January 1st.

The taper is now just a week away.

There is one more big week to get through and it feels rather like the last week of the school term before the exams start.

You know the work has largely been done.

You know there is nothing much left to learn.

But you still feel compelled to revise something.

Anything.

And that is where the mind games begin.

This is the time for thinking about race strategy, refining the fuelling plan, thinking about hydration and, inevitably, thinking about shoes.

I accept that I am a running shoe fanatic.

I have considerably more pairs than I need and my interest goes well beyond whether they are comfortable.

I like the technology, the geometry, the foams, the plates and the way manufacturers attempt to turn increasingly complicated bits of chemistry and engineering into something that makes an ageing bloke run slightly faster.

There is endless debate about how much shoes actually help.

Personally, I am convinced that a stable carbon racing shoe designed for the marathon can provide a meaningful benefit — not just in actual performance but in confidence.

But it isn't a massive gain.

The marathon is a game of marginal gains.

Sleep.

Recovery.

Training.

Running efficiency.

Fuelling.

Hydration.

Pacing.

And, apparently, the ability to keep one's toenails attached to one's feet.

The marathon remains an unpredictable beast. When things have gone wrong for me in previous marathons, it hasn't generally been because the shoes suddenly stopped working.

It has usually been something around the 20-mile mark involving fuelling, hydration or simply the body deciding that it has had quite enough of this nonsense.

Last week, perhaps partly because of fatigue, I started to lose confidence in my shoe choice.

I currently have seven black toenails.

Yes, seven.

I will spare you the photographs.

You’re welcome.

What I need from a marathon shoe is a little more room for the foot to splay and a toe box that doesn't taper quite so aggressively.

My preferred shoe has been the Adidas Adizero Adios Pro 4.

I love the shoe, but after a couple of half marathons I have noticed that the sharper taper across the front can cause some rubbing around the toes.

And the last thing you need after 20 miles is to discover that your feet have decided to stage a rebellion.

For my last marathon I used the New Balance SC Elite v5.

It did the job, but I never really fell in love with it. I find the heel rather narrow and, for me, it doesn't feel quite as stable as I would like.

The other option was the Nike Alphafly.

I actually get on very well with the Alphafly.

Apart from the noise.

The noise drives my mate Adrian absolutely insane. I see his point.

There is also the question of calf fatigue. The Alphafly certainly works for me over a half marathon, but I have always been conscious of the different loading it creates and the reports from some runners of calf issues late in longer races.

So I was beginning to think I might take the Alphafly option when, rather conveniently, Adidas released the Adizero Adios Pro 5.

The interesting thing for me was the change around the forefoot and toe box.

The shoe appeared to offer a little more room without losing the characteristics that I like about the Pro 4.

Perfect.

Except there was a small problem.

I managed to find a pair in the only colour available at the time.

Pink.

I have no objection to pink, although I did briefly wonder whether running a marathon in pink shoes might mean that I would have to start taking my fashion choices more seriously.

I ordered them.

This isn't actually how I prefer to buy running shoes.

I much prefer to drop into Sportlink in Norwich, try them on, have a chat, enjoy the banter and generally spend more time discussing running shoes than is strictly necessary.

The service is excellent and the range is extensive.

But new model shoes take a little while to filter down to the shops, and I wanted to get some miles into these before Amsterdam.

So I ordered them.

Then, while I was waiting for them to arrive, the internet did what the internet does.

Shoe reviewers started posting videos.

And quite a few were reporting problems with the outsole durability.

Not just a little bit of wear.

Mine arrived in time for Sunday's long run.

Seventeen miles in fact.

Two and a half hours of running.

A mixture of easy running with three 25-minute effort sessions and recovery periods between them.

That took the week's mileage to just short of 50 miles.

And the verdict?

I really like them.

In fact, I like them a lot.

They aren't an especially aggressive shoe. There isn't that feeling that you have been strapped to a rocket and told to hold on.

Instead, they have what I would describe as a rolling ride.

Smooth.

Progressive.

And, to me, ideally suited to the marathon.

Obviously, one 17-mile run isn't enough to declare anything the greatest running shoe ever made.

But on the basis of that run, the Adios Pro 5 is arguably the most impressive racing shoe I have worn.

By some distance.

And then came the important bit.

I got home.

I took the shoes off.

And before putting them away I turned them over.

I held my breath.

I inspected the outsole.

Nothing.

No chunks missing.

No obvious damage.

No rapidly disintegrating Adidas technology falling onto the kitchen floor.

Just a pair of shoes that had completed 17 miles rather nicely.

Result.

The shoe conundrum is, for now, sorted.

And that is one less thing to think about.

Which is just as well.

Because with one final heavy week to go, and Amsterdam getting closer by the day, there are quite enough things to think about.

The fuelling.

The hydration.

The pacing.

The weather.

The legs.

The head.

And whether I am strong enough.

Cher seems to think that's an important question.

I suppose I'll find out.

See you in the next one.