Here are some stats for you from my long run at the weekend:
Number of times I laughed aloud while running along listening to a Miranda Hart audiobook: at least 10
Number of endorphins experienced: none
Number of runners who streaked (as in fast, not as in naked) in the opposite direction past me like gazelles, without a hair out of place and looking poised and elegant: several
Number of people I overtook: 6
Rough age of all of the people I overtook: 70
Number of runners who overtook me: none (yes!)
Number of jelly babies consumed: quite a lot (well, I need to get my stomach used to them while running, right?)
What else would you like to know?
If you’ve noticed that I’ve been suspiciously quiet for the past week or so it’s because (whisper it)…I don’t want to run the marathon. I’m scared! Everytime someone mentions the marathon my instinct is to stick my fingers in my ears and start singing “la la la” to block it out.
It’s normal to feel like this, right? I’m hoping that the nerves will peak sometime soon and I’ll enter a zen-like phase where I’m calm and serene and not at all concerned about running TWENTY SIX POINT TWO miles.
(I’m not at that point just yet)
What’s the difference between a well-dressed man and a tired dog? The man wears a suit, the dog just pants!
What’s that – you can do better? Come on then, bring it on! Jokes to firstname.lastname@example.org please, along with words of encouragement.