Sweet child of mine what am I doing?
It is here, the big day, the day I Sophie Fox, who once ate a kebab I found in a drawer, is running a marathon.
To clarify, I had been out, bought a kebab on the way home, couldn’t finish it, put it in a drawer for safekeeping (obviously) and then finished it the next morning.
I thought that was going to make it sound better but it didn’t.
The worst part was that my Mum had prepared a lunch which I of course then had to eat. I couldn’t exactly say no. “Yeah sorry mum, I can’t eat your perfectly prepared lasagna because I’m still pretty full from that kebab I found in my drawer“. Sandy Fox would not have been impressed.My point is that not too long ago I would have laughed at the idea of me doing a marathon. Hell, I am laughing now but I think this might be out of fear.
Please let this be a warning to you all not to make any rash decisions on a hangover. I was feeling all emotional from wine and a bit cocky because I had lost some weight and dressed up like a power ranger and one thing led to another and I was signed up.What I did not anticipate was that I would proceed to put back on 10lbs in 6 weeks and return to my normal habits of beer and burgers faster than you can shout “It’s Morphin Time!!”
So here we are. It is what it is. I have trained for it so hopefully it wont be a total disaster. I have not trained anywhere near enough, mind, but I think in these circumstances ignorance will definitely be bliss.
Like a first time mum about to give birth I know it will be very long, very painful, and very tiring. I just don’t know how exactly how long, how painful and how tiring it is going to be. If I did I wouldn’t do it. Anyway they say with labour that you forget about the pain the instant you hold your baby in your arms. Seeing their little face makes it all worthwhile.
The downside of this analogy is that I can’t opt for an epidural and spend the last two hours of the marathon dead from the waist down and watching Loose Women. There is probably the same chance of pooping though so that’s good.Looking positive, after the hours of work when I finally hold the medal in my arms I can look at it fondly, put it in my bag, and go for a drink. The medal is not going to want feeding, changing, or wake me up in the night crying. I won’t have to spend thousands of my hard earned pounds putting the medal through university. I won’t worry about it texting boys or being cyber bullied. It will just hang on my wardrobe door until I get annoyed by the clanging and fling it under the bed.
Seems worth it.
In preparing for the run I could have stuck to a tried and tested marathon training program of long runs and high intensity training with allocated rest days and plenty of fluids.
I could have.
Instead I opted for the less well known program of eating loads over Christmas, not running because it is too cold and I don’t like to run in the rain, followed by three months of sheer panic, more eating and then googling “tips for running a marathon” hoping for an answer other than “start 6 months in advance or else don’t bother”.
The worst thing about running a marathon is getting advice from marathon runners. They take it so seriously. I mean I know it is a long way and everything but you are jogging for an extended period of time, this isn’t solving the economic problems of sub-Saharan Africa or working out how they actually got away with it in Ocean’s 11.Aside from the title of this post I have pretty much gone against every piece of advice I have read. It’s like runners are speaking a foreign language. See the following examples:
Runner: “Carb gels are amazing! I love the coffee ones, I sometimes just eat them when I’m not running because they are just soooo tasty”
Translation: “Carb gels are the devil. They taste like phlegm mixed with Impulse body spray and 96% of the time will make you shit yourself. Do not use unless you are a total idiot.”
Runner: “The enthusiasm of the crowd will carry you on the day”
Translation: “No it will not. Unless the local children’s choir have been doing a hell of a lot of upper body work, they will most certainly not carry you on the day. Not even if you ask really really nicely and bribe them with gluten free Percy Pigs.”
Runner: “You have to have a Garmin and I always try and run to my optimum heart rate bpm, and to ensure that my glycogen stores are at peak race I swear by Fartleks and LSDs so that my VO2 Max improves and prevents my ITB from hurting when I get my PB”
Translation “I haven’t had a glass of wine since the millenium and none of my friends will speak to me anymore. Send help.”
The Googling did work in some respects. I found this wonderful page created by the Oatmeal.So screw all reasonable and sensible advice – I am going to power through with the help of sheer stupidity, a Primarni watch, a Lionel Ritchie playlist, and the excellent nutrition as provided by Lucy Fox’s homemade Florentines.
What could possibly go wrong?
See you at the finish line