What on earth am I doing ? What possessed me to enter the bloody marathon ? Was I out of my mind ? I have always been one of those sensible people who abide by the rules, walk in corridors, don't go off piste, eat my vegetables...
This week I have run 28 miles. I eat, sleep, talk, dream running. People cross the street when they see me coming because I am soooooo boring about the marathon. People delete my e-mails without reading them in case I'm asking for money.
This week I had a tortuous sports massage on Monday, which had me shrieking in pain. On Tuesday I rested as I couldn't walk. On Wednesday I ran 8+ miles. On Friday I ran 4+ miles. And yesterday I ran 16 miles. Yesterday's run was one of the most miserable experiences of my life. It was long, sooooo long, cold, rainy, tortuously slow and generally just awful. All I can say is that it tested my willpower to the limit.
Yesterday I seriously wanteed to stop, give up, go home and never do any sort of exercise ever again. There is a lot to be said for being a couch potato. My run/walk plan ended up in a run/walk/walk/walk/run/walk/walk/walk. My confidence hit the floor.
Today I am on a recovery day. I am hoping to recover a little bit of confidence for tomorrow when I have to get up at 6 am and run 4 miles. Oh God.