Tuesday, 7 January 2014

The wrong side of bed

Those of you who follow my ramblings on twitter will know by now that I have failed catastrophically to 'sit still' and 'off-load some responsibilities' (as OH is wont to say) with the advent of the new year.

Yes, it is 2014 and I have regressed to making irrational decisions based on random thoughts that pop in to my head upon waking.

This is also occasionally known as the 'What-the-bloody-hell-were-you-thinking (or not)' syndrome.

Or that's my excuse anyway - because I cannot, for the life of me, understand why else I would have done this. I am not even being paid bribed promised a hot date with Daniel Craig to partake in such events.

Anyhow, here's the deal.

First there was this:

So far, so manageable. A date way out in September 2014. No worries. Two lovely friends to run it with. One actually flying in from Canada, one schlepping down south from Manchester. And wine at the water stops, most enticing - although possibly speed-inhibiting.

And then there was this:

Maybe it was an innate sense of duty that obliged me to follow-up the email that my good friend the Conscientious Trader had sent some months earlier and which I had - as per many previous years - studiously ignored.

Maybe it was the knowledge that I should pay penance for my 'bah humbug' festive attitude.

Maybe I just got out of the wrong side of bed on new year's day. With a woolly head.

Anyway. It's done.

The training plan is drawn up.
The Moose is on my case.
My cousin (a 3hr10min marathoner) * has offered valuable advice (quote: "A marathon in three months is ambitious...")
My training partner-in-crime BB has bailed on me (quote: "We started triathlon because a half marathon was too much for my legs...")
The mind is going "Yeah, no sweat, you can do this!"
The body is already saying, "You have got to be fucking joking - what?!"
The knees are still intact. So far.
The shoes are new.

So snazzy, but alas no longer this pristine

And the donation page is now up and running.

So, I am forsaking anonymity for a truly brilliant cause (and probably also to get a 'test run' in before the wine marathon event in September, as the other two girls each have some ten years' in age advantage over me and there's nothing like the early onset of panic to make my stomach turn over).

If you have some readies left over from your Christmas indulgences, then please give generously.

You will be able to laugh at me cheer me on in person - along the route or from a distance - as I do my best to complete my first ever London Marathon, and feel good about it at the same time.

Sarcastic commentary guaranteed.
Complimentary swearing included.

* VERY IMPORTANT addendum - my erstwhile cousin has since rightfully pointed out that *he* is a 2hr45min marathoner, and that in my enthusiasm to gain some valuable tips I must have consulted "another cousin" who could only manage a paltry 3hr10min marathon. Tsk. Shame on me.

Note to self: check facts thoroughly before blogging such important numbers or risk wrath of Australian relatives.

*wanders off wondering how much the family pride will be dented when she posts a 6hr27min time*


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