Saturday, September 18, 2010
Two weeks until the marathon
The marathon is now but a fortnight distant and I am into the "taper" stage of my training, during which I run less and eat cheesecake like it's going out of fashion.
In truth, the cheesecake-eating bit is not conventional marathon training, but is a handy crutch for me as Edwin and I have sworn off alcohol until we are safely finished in Loch Ness.
A bottle of whisky which I bought the other day sits unharmed on the kitchen shelf, taunting me. Time for some more cheesecake.
At this stage in proceedings, it's not uncommon for runners to get paranoid about injury and illness: What if I get a cold? What if I tear a hamstring? I managed to do myself a bit of damage the other day while performing routine DIY surgery on my foot with a kitchen knife. Perhaps I should be more cautious.
I forced myself out of bed for a 5k race this morning, which went a lot better than last night's jog (ie. I didn't have to do an emergency stealth poo round the back of King's Cross station). There was also a big gorilla at the finishing line, giving out high-fives to runners.
As I was collecting my bag, the gorilla removed its head to reveal the rather hot face of a university student.
"That's not a gorilla!" I shouted indignantly. "That's just a man in a gorilla suit!"
The race organisers tutted and shook their heads at this intelligence. I'm sure one of them muttered the word "wanker".
Two more weeks.
In truth, the cheesecake-eating bit is not conventional marathon training, but is a handy crutch for me as Edwin and I have sworn off alcohol until we are safely finished in Loch Ness.
A bottle of whisky which I bought the other day sits unharmed on the kitchen shelf, taunting me. Time for some more cheesecake.
At this stage in proceedings, it's not uncommon for runners to get paranoid about injury and illness: What if I get a cold? What if I tear a hamstring? I managed to do myself a bit of damage the other day while performing routine DIY surgery on my foot with a kitchen knife. Perhaps I should be more cautious.
I forced myself out of bed for a 5k race this morning, which went a lot better than last night's jog (ie. I didn't have to do an emergency stealth poo round the back of King's Cross station). There was also a big gorilla at the finishing line, giving out high-fives to runners.
As I was collecting my bag, the gorilla removed its head to reveal the rather hot face of a university student.
"That's not a gorilla!" I shouted indignantly. "That's just a man in a gorilla suit!"
The race organisers tutted and shook their heads at this intelligence. I'm sure one of them muttered the word "wanker".
Two more weeks.
Labels: IMPENDING DOOM, SELF IMPROVEMENT, TALES
