Still reeling from my, erm, good fortune at winning a place on the London Marathon I set about training for the big day.
I couldn’t find any plans that recommended training for a marathon in 10 weeks. The majority suggested, really quite firmly, that you needed 14 weeks. Myasics.com reckoned it was possible in 12 weeks, provided you didn’t do anything really silly like starting two weeks in, so I went with that one and started two weeks in.
Fortunately I was really well prepared, having spent the winter Internet shopping for running stuff
Sam had told me I didn’t need. All I had to do now was get out there and try
to remember what I love about running.
Things I do not love about running
Bloody hell it hurts. Every step.
Two main things really.
One - they drive from miles around to turn down side streets that no one has driven down for literally months, just as I need to cross, every fricking time. This means stopping. Stopping running is not a good plan. You realise exactly how much it all hurts when it stops.
Two – when it is dark they come and park right on the pavement at breakneck speed. This is unexpected, what the pavement having been built for pedestrians, and not as a carpark.
I hold my hands up – I ride a bike myself. And when I’m on a bike I obviously hate runners, it's the law. What I do not do is ride in a vague zigzag along the pavement. Texting. I also do not go up the side of a lane of traffic, jump a red light and then shout abuse at a runner crossing the road. Just saying.
|Mo Farah doesn't have to put up with this nonsense|
I’m sure your dog is very friendly, and it’s really cute that it bounds over to say hello. It doesn’t matter at all that it’s baring its teeth at me, nor that it has tried to trip me over, twice, and those muddy pawprints look great on my new compression tights. I can darn the hole. Oh good, it’s coming back to do the same again. Put it on a lead seeing as it doesn’t do one thing you say? Oh no, surely not.
There are miles and miles of pathways pretty much from my door, going across the Greater Manchester conurbation in all directions. The number of places I can get to, off road, is staggering. The scenery is spectacular, and I'm forever finding new places (OK, so I get lost. Often.) So why does everyone from a ten mile radius need to congregate at one particular place and stay within a mile of the car just because there are a few ducks and an ice cream van? That is not a day out in the countryside. You might as well go to the Trafford Centre.