Countdown

One hundred and ninety six days is a long time, if you were waiting for, say, your cat to come home, or a man to fix your boiler, or an especially exciting holiday to come around.  It's not a long time if an email has landed in your inbox telling you that you've earned a place in the London Marathon. Only one of these events is likely to have me writing this blog again, so I'll give you a moment to decide which one it is.

Picked one?

Great. 

It comes as a bit of a surprise, having entirely forgotten that I'd made my sixth attempt in the ballot, and it's a simple ping that brings the news to my inbox. As I read it my heartbeat quickens, and I'm simultaneously delighted and horrified - delighted that I'm in, horrified that just as the days start to darken and the heating comes on that I should have committed myself to 6 months of long runs. 

State of the nation: not entirely terrible, but not great.  The Bournemouth Bay Half in April was slow going, a career worst 2:20-ish, thanks largely to wearing really bad socks that chewed up my feet.  A 25 minute Parkrun, once a sign of a bad day, is a bit of a dream right now.  On the plus side, I've not given up running, albeit I'm a little irregular, but occasionally an 8 or 9 miler happens.

To try and keep motivation up, I've entered the Dark Half, a half marathon in the dark, naturally.  Unfortunately, the usual happened - instead of motivation its become a reason to rebel, and so I find myself 3 weeks away having done very little to actually prep myself for anything even approaching 2 hours. The little email finding it's way to me refocuses the mind, and suddenly the Dark Half, rapidly heading towards a no-show, becomes a must-do. 

So, Garmin out, trainers on, this could be interesting. As soon as the rain stops.