It’s not a sprint

I’ve wrestled with it for some time now. Toyed with it time and again. And this time there’s no escape. I’ve finally signed up for that well-known ‘wee jog ‘ with thousands of other nutters next April. All 26.2 miles of it.

It’s probably not the best time. Sod that, I know it’s not the best time. I have ongoing running injuries. Plus work is pretty crazy and I’m planning a wedding.

From now on, I will be running. Running in the cold. Running in the driving rain. Given the British weather, running in the snow. Running before work. Running home from work. Running until I feel physically sick. Hopefully not running until I am sick.

So why do it, you might ask? Because despite the early starts, unpredictable climate and inevitable aches and pains, I love running. Plus I’m doing it for the charity Prostate Cancer UK, in memory of my grandfather.

As the Italian musical colossus Pavarotti summarised so aptly, It’s Now or Never. Although at this stage the thought of doing double a half marathon (finally managed to write the ‘M’ word…) is, quite frankly, terrifying.

I remember thinking ‘never again’, during each of the four half marathons I’ve undertaken. However, something happens when I run. In a nutshell, it gets under my skin. And every year when I go to watch the masses snaking their way through the capital in various states of disrepair, I’m hit with waves of jealousy. “I wish that was me, I wish that was me, I wish that was me.”

So here I go. Let the training, fundraising and emotions commence. And, I’ll be combining it all with my other love, writing. On your marks, get set….go.


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