if I can do it, so can you (maybe)
I am driving on the way to the race when an extremely rare white rhino steps onto the road, so I swerve, lose control, and smash through a barrier, off the Golden Gate bridge and into the river, where I have to break free from my sinking Delorean (purple) and swim to the bank, chased all the way by robot piranhas. I make it to the race just in time, but I’m a bit tired and wet.
I’m done with disappointments and underachieving, done with seeing my friends make it, while I don’t. I’m tired of being a zero.
I am the fastest marathon runner here. I am the current Snowdonia Marathon champion. I am the fastest descender here. I live here. I have practised this course more than anyone. This is my race. This is my time.
I see some very good runners on the start line. I’m happy they’ve come, I want to race them. I’m not afraid of anyone.
I decide to put the hammer down. I want to win, and I’m not going to hide it. The first 2 miles are uphill, the four of us are together, but I won’t let anyone past me.
With a week until London Marathon, I still have a very tight calf (I pulled it in Brighton Marathon a week earlier). It is tight enough to feel when I am walking. Quite regularly, for no particular reason, my stomach tightens, and I get scared. A hundred thoughts rush through my mind in a second…
Brighton Marathon was not good enough. So this time, rather than do the sensible thing, I will do the me thing. And go headlong for London Marathon, all guns blazing.
What went right? Well, I finished, I ran the race 1 minute quicker than my spring marathon last year, and I didn’t shit myself.
What went wrong? …
