Tomorrow is the big day, it’s Royal Parks half marathon time. I wont beat around the bush, I’m cacking it slightly as my training hasn’t gone quite to plan. Okay let me re-phrase that, it hasn’t gone to plan at all!! It started off so well and positively, that back in July I easily hit the eight mile mark, yay go me! I was feeling pretty smug I have to tell you, half/smarf marathon, easy peasy I was thinking. All I needed to do was sustain the eight miles and push a bit more over September then I’d be there, but a family holiday with much cheese, bread and more wine that you could shake a big wine stick at got in the way and well, my body just gave up! It’s quite frankly been a struggle even hitting five miles since that holiday (I blame France!) and my knees are all but knackered, but tomorrow sees me attempting 13.1 miles, taking in the lovely sights of London town.
Running, ah running, we have a bit of a love/hate relationship going on. I hate doing it but I love how it makes me feel afterwards. I get a buzz knowing that I’ve done some exercise. I first started running when I was living with my sister in London, about ten years ago. Around this time, I was eating really badly, gorging on wine and beer, pasta and cheese. And despite knowing that I had a serious muffin top, I was massively in denial. I weighed myself one day and nearly had a heart attack, as I saw I was tipping the scales at around 10 and a half stone. As a fairly small woman, at 5ft 3, this didn’t sit well with me, quite literally. I made the decision then and there to go for a run. Possibly not the best decision at the time, as it was a really hot day. I just about made it to the end of the road without my head exploding! From that day on, I tried to go running at least twice a week to get myself fit.
You know that moment when you’re having a conversation with a friend, half listening, agreeing and nodding along then all of a sudden they’re thanking you profusely? Yes? Well, a few months ago my lovely friend Dawn and I were chatting about her being pregnant and running, and it was all sunshine and loveliness, the next thing I knew, Dawn was assigning various emails over to me and apparently I’d agreed to run a half marathon in her place in October, damnit, concentrate Emma! The deal was that I’d be running for Macmillan, Dawn’s chosen charity and as it happens that’s a good thing as they’d be who I’d choose to run for anyway. A good friend, Carl, who was THE life and soul died from bowel cancer three years ago, he was my age. Carl was well looked after and cared for by Macmillan nurses, so Carlos, this one’s for you buddy.