I am sitting freshly showered and carbed up ready for the race tomorrow. Let me start at the beginning. In April I thought for a laugh, that I would do a half-marathon because I am turning 30 soon and apart from a brief but glittering career in hockey which was cut short by a devastating injury I hadn’t really achieved anything physical. And I was bored and let’s be honest I needed a hobby after the wedding planning had finished. Should I also mention here that I could not run for 1 km. Yes 1 k and somehow I thought I was capable of running 22. And I am not a runner, never have been.
And it was hard. I started to run and after 3 minutes I could not breathe, at all. My face was red and I wheezed like an old man who smokes 50 a day. Emily was my self-appointed trainer and she had the patience of a saint. We walked than ran then walked and then one day I was running all the way.
The next big step was the first of our Saturday runs and I made the fatal error of eating before the run. By the time I got to 6 k’s I thought I was going to vomit and I was crying. Actually crying. And I am as tough as old boots, my shoulder pops out of it’s joint all the time and I just pop it back in. The man sweeping the streets was walking faster than me and he was pulling a trolley filled with leaves.
But I kept on trying mostly because Emily would have hounded me to my grave if I quitted. Once she pushed me so far I almost hit her. And I would of if she wasn’t faster than me and therefore out of reach. And the best bit of advice she ever gave me. It’s never going to get any easier you just have to do it. And that’s the truth you body will never liked by slammed against concrete for a long period of time you just have to do it.
And then all the clichés happened, I ran no matter what, through the rain , holidays and nightmare DIY, I had a bad day at work and then went for a run and felt better, I ran through muscle strains and blisters, I got up at 7:00 on Saturday morning to run 18 k’s, . And most worryingly of all when I didn’t run I missed it. And once I saw my reflection in the shop window and realise that when I run I am tipped forward by my boobs and my bum sticks out. I look like I am about to topple at any minute. Still I kept on running even my vanity couldn’t stop me.
So in six months I went from running 2 k;’s to 22. And you know what it’s not even a big deal I just do it. My body had amazed me and beside there gets a point where you are so tired there’s nothing else left to do apart from run, stopping doesn’t make it any better. In fact it makes it worse because your body remembers was resting feels like and tries to make you stop but letting all the blood flow to your feet.
And the reward for all that hard work came on Monday when I began carbo-loading. Which I re-interpreted to junk food loading and I ate a couple of chocolate éclairs and then felt sick so I ate healthy carbs but just a lot of them and now I have a swollen belly like an Ethiopian and I can’t really bend over or move. I have eaten pasta for every meal since Thursday and it’s not a good feeling. I hate pasta and bread actually and every type of wheat based product. Except cake of course. I will never hate cake. It goes against my religion
I am excited about tomorrow, hopefully the training and the carbs carry me through. Also hope that it doesn’t rain, blisters don’t re-appear and my knee strain behaves itself.
Wish me luck.
xxx
