I’ve gone and done something crazy. Crazier than the time I gave up a stable job straight out of uni to intern unpaid at The Telegraph and sleep on a floor for three months. Or the time I told the manager at the local Natwest that I wouldn’t leave until she gave me £100 and a bottle of Moet to compensate for accidentally cancelling my card. Both of those paid off so I’m hoping this will too. I’m only running the frickin’ London Marathon.
As someone who has run fairly regularly for a couple of years, including two half marathons, this is of course the natural progression. Except, of course, that by mile 9 of those two half marathons I wanted to lie down/cry/give up/faint and generally thought “wow, anyone who does double this distance must be a nut job.”
Now I’m a nut job.
However, as my mum informed me – and hell, haven’t we all come to realise that mums are ALWAYS right – if I don’t do it now, I never will. This is true – I’m 24, have pretty much no responsibilities, and can do what I want with my time i.e. spend every weekday evening and Sunday morning training to run a silly distance round London. I’ve printed out a marathon training schedule, and just looking at it nearly made me weep, but the good thing about getting a last minute place is that I don’t really have time to think about it. I just have to do it.
Also, the fact it is my first, and probably my only marathon means I’m not trying to beat a certain time and set a new PB – I literally have to get round and survive, even if that means crawling the last six miles (probably more likely than you would think).
So here goes – except some whingey running posts soon, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do this thing!