Done a (really long) run!

I did it!

My brain is a bit broken now, so this will be mercifully short, but I bloody did it!

4hrs 50mins 42secs… I’m so so happy with that.

I AM one of those annoying people who says they’re going to fail exams and then ends up doing pretty well, but I had no idea I was an extra annoying person who says they’re going to take 7 hours to run 26.2 miles and then does it much faster.

The first half was a bit like that dream I had a few nights ago – absolutely fine. The second half was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced and it went on for ages.

The most important thing: I didn’t poo myself (yesssss!).

I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead.



At school my latin teacher once told us that the latin for “tomorrow” sounds a bit like the noise a crow makes. I can’t remember the latin for tomorrow, so who knows if that’s true, but if it is those Romans must’ve found crows pretty creepy.

I’m on a bus to London so that tomorrow I can run/walk 26.2 miles around it. It would’ve been nice (not “nice”, but you know, better) to run it all, but I just didn’t do enough training. There we go. There’s always next year (there isn’t).

I’m pretty nervous. What if I injure myself forever? What if I poo myself in front of all those spectators (I have read of too many instances of marathon runners doing this and am now mildly obsessed with avoiding it at all costs), what if there aren’t enough jelly babies? Hmm? What if?

Although I’m really nervous and stressed and stuff, I think I have to stay in this state until it’s all over else there’s a real risk that I’ll realise that it doesn’t really matter and no one really cares… And if I realise that, then why the hell am I bothering?

That’s right. I’m having an existential crisis on a megabus. It’s probably quite common.

A last minute money plea

Over the past 8 months, I’ve accidentally focussed on doing all the running and making excuses for not doing all the running instead of doing all the running and raising all the money for Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. Oops.

I’ve been pretty overwhelmed by quite how LOVELY my friends are (who knew?!). Through their efforts, I’ve managed to raise over £600… The main problem is that I need to raise £1000. In fact, I think I might need to raise £1500, but I can’t remember.

Basically, I’ve really dropped the ball on this one.

I’m going to dig deep in my own pocket, but if YOU could also give LLR all your money, we’d be really grateful. Just click here:



Distance! Travelling! Repossession!

In addition to all that running I’ve been doing/making excuses for not doing, I’ve also joined a netball team with nice people at work. I really liked netball in school and I think I only quit netball club because all the boys I fancied used to skate(board) by the courts after school and I didn’t want them to see me all sweaty and excited about something other than the new Mansun album… Well it turns out my 16-year-old self was wrong. Those boys weren’t even fit, netball is well good and that Mansun album was awful.

Netball is great because it’s fun, not that tiring and not dangerous (in fact, every time you even accidentally bump into someone else the whole game is stopped and the other team take a free pass while you’re made to stand by their side and think about what you’ve done). I think “fun”, “not tiring” and “not dangerous” might apply to all the things I enjoy (going for a drink, going for a meal and going on the internet for a bit, etc.).

Just imagine the best netball team in the world and then double it… That’s us. We haven’t won any matches/games yet and our goal difference currently stands at -59 (not a joke), but what we lack in netballing ability we make up for in enthusiasm, niceness and great looks.


What does all this have to do with that marathon I’m running on Sunday? Good question. Not much. But I’m acutely aware that the only people who read this blog are on this (truly brilliant) netball team and they (beautiful girls that they are) said they’d sponsor me (thousands of pounds) to write a blog about netball. So cough up, ladies.

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

When listening to my anecdotes, lucky recipients sometimes interrupt to ask if they have a point or will ever end. And when I say “anecdotes”, I mostly mean “dreams”, because despite being chronically old now, I still sometimes ignore a lifetime’s worth of evidence suggesting that other people don’t, in fact, enjoy hearing about what my brain does while I’m asleep.

But I’m certain that YOU (someone who is bothering to read an infrequent blog about infrequent running) will love reading this shit…

For a couple of weeks now I’ve been having crap dreams about this marathon thing. Not so much the running, but all the admin I have to do before the race… Getting a train (missing the train), going to the right area of London (going to the wrong area of London), picking up my race number (forgetting to pick up my race number), charging my iPod (you get the picture). Two weeks of boring but stressful dreams along those lines. Waking up in the early hours of the morning with initial confusion that it’s light, then pleasant realisation that it’s nearly summer, then nagging guilt that I should probably go for a run before work. My right eye has been twitching for two days. Woe. Is. Me.

But then last night I had a wonderful dream.

I was running in the marathon (presumably the admin was complete) and it was actually alright. Every time I thought about walking I realised I didn’t need to. My legs didn’t hurt. My breathing was steady and easy. The sun was shining but it wasn’t too hot. I was effortlessly overtaking people. At one point I even tried to update my Facebook status while running. “Just going for a little jog in London” it would’ve said if I had the capacity to type in dreamland and wasn’t just mashing the phone with my dream paws. And no-one would’ve thought that was an annoying thing to say. Everyone would’ve been well happy that I was having the best run of my life. I woke up at 5am with a twitchy eye but whatever.

So… What was my point? Yeah, right… As we all know, Gabriel famously sang, “Dreams can come true (look at me babe I’m with you)”, so if I take that as a FACT that applies only to last night’s dream and none of the others, I guess everything’s gonna be aaaaaall right on the night (Sunday morning).

The end.