I've let my blog go a bit dormant over the past year. This last few months have not really been terribly travel blog worthy but more a tale of running. I entered in the Valencia Marathon back in January and 10 months later here I am a month out from the big day.
I'm not going to lie, the training has been hard. Some days are definitely worse than others and some are quite simply the best days of my life. Curiously I have just read an article on Manic Depression and I think this is how my running feels while I am on the roads/towpaths/tracks/foot tunnels to bring in the miles of training that one needs to do to prepare for a day where you run 42.2km. But there is one thing for sure, every time I climb my 3 floors to home and I gulp back water I feel better. A sense of achievement sweeps over me and I recall the grafitti ("Have a nice day" was yesterdays discovery), the smiles and raised eyebrows of acknowledgement of fellow runners, fierce geese chases, disgruntled canal cyclists and clapping supporters.
Since July and an unceremonious fall down stairs at work where I sliced open my chin and immobilised my right arm for a month and my senses for longer, I have been unemployed. I decided to leave my job because I lost any sense of purpose, a deep loathing for the management style and a hope I could earn some man money for a change. And like anyone who has had a period of unemployment this can cause you to second guess every minute detail of your life. In a recent chat to my Mum I blurted "what do I care, I can't relate to anyone at the moment, I don't have a job, I don't have a partner, I'm not planning a wedding, building a house, raising a child/ren, and as for a mortgage I don't give a shit, I'm training for a marathon and noone wants to relate to being tired, let alone what motivates me to do it to myself!'. Poor Mum didn't know where to go with this, so turned my attention to charitable work she is doing instead. Bless her. I signed up to lay poppies at the Tower of London the next day to commemorate the start of the First World War.
When I signed up for the marathon I had a few friends suggest I do the run for charity. As is commonly done here in the UK people have to do something physical to gain funds. Suggesting its really useful to focus the mind when the going gets tough. This would involve asking all my friends with the above responsibilities to give to a cause of my choosing. No, I was running this marathon for me. It is My challenge. I just didn't realise how much of a challenge it would prove to be.
In the count down to the day I plan to keep a wee note on here of my progress and the tools I use to get me across the finish line.
I'm not going to lie, the training has been hard. Some days are definitely worse than others and some are quite simply the best days of my life. Curiously I have just read an article on Manic Depression and I think this is how my running feels while I am on the roads/towpaths/tracks/foot tunnels to bring in the miles of training that one needs to do to prepare for a day where you run 42.2km. But there is one thing for sure, every time I climb my 3 floors to home and I gulp back water I feel better. A sense of achievement sweeps over me and I recall the grafitti ("Have a nice day" was yesterdays discovery), the smiles and raised eyebrows of acknowledgement of fellow runners, fierce geese chases, disgruntled canal cyclists and clapping supporters.
.JPG) |
| My wee patch of poppy planting at the Tower of London |
When I signed up for the marathon I had a few friends suggest I do the run for charity. As is commonly done here in the UK people have to do something physical to gain funds. Suggesting its really useful to focus the mind when the going gets tough. This would involve asking all my friends with the above responsibilities to give to a cause of my choosing. No, I was running this marathon for me. It is My challenge. I just didn't realise how much of a challenge it would prove to be.
In the count down to the day I plan to keep a wee note on here of my progress and the tools I use to get me across the finish line.
Comments
Post a Comment