Days to go Four
Miles today A big fat zero – see below
Miles this week A big fat zero – see below
Miles last week 23
Miles 2011 415
Other exercise Now you’re just rubbing it in – see below
Oh, my good gosh, it’s almost here. Today is Wednesday and Sunday’s marathon is eagerly waiting, looking at its watch and drumming its fingers impatiently, keen to be under starter’s orders and off.
Me? I’m just plain old terrified...
And nursing an injury – which is a phrase I’d hoped would not feature in this blog.
I’ve double checked all the information and checklists explaining what to do during the last few days before the Big One and not one of them says anything about sustaining an injury. So, what am I playing at?
My ridiculous left leg chose Sunday to kick off. Not last year; a month ago; not even last Wednesday. No, Sunday: a week to the day before the Big One. I woke up with a calf tangled with cramp. I could barely move and struggled through the day with gritted teeth.
The gut-knotting misery has thankfully eased – a hot bath, plenty of Voltarol and a sports massage can work wonders – but my left calf is still tender. I’ve had to shelve my plans for some final keeping-warm-miles. Instead, I have been hobbling about like an aged crone and looking about as far from the image of a honed athlete as you can possibly get – which I think, at the moment, is 26.2 miles.
Thankfully, most of the other things I should be getting on with during this important week of preparation for the Big One are achievable with a hop-along leg.
Mostly, I should be resting. Yip – can do. Am doing: under protest. What I really want to be doing is lacing up my ASICS, heading out into the sunshine and up through the woods for a gentle six miles.
Harumph!
I also need to be getting some early nights and sleeping my way to marathon success. I’m trying my best on this one, but at this time of year my naughty Kitty is keen to be up with the larks – and chasing them round the garden. So, she has resorted to some terrible tactics to demand release into the dawn: crashing onto the bed most undaintily, boxing me on the nose and yowling at full volume.
Not good Kitty behaviour, I tell her, and not good marathon preparation. She blinks at me, nonplussed; shrugs her shoulders and yomps back to the window sill. She allows me enough time to drift off again before coming back to deliver another duvet-stomping, nose-boxing, Jericho-bashing wake-up call.
Eating plenty of the right stuff is also on the to-do list. It is essential that I carb up over the next couple of days. Managing that nicely by chucking in some extra cake rations just to be on the safe side. Well, it’s imperative that I’m fully fuelled for Sunday.
According to Marathon News, I should also be packing carefully and preparing the bits and bobs all participants must cram into their kit bag. There are the obvious things like a variety of running outfits (you never can tell with the English spring weather), race number and chip, warm clothes for afterwards (what a lovely sounding word), spare change, a drink and bite to eat, sun cream, and Vaseline.
And loo roll.
Now, I’m not sure what innovations have been adopted in the south in recent months, but the last time I visited the capital I’m sure that all conveniences were equipped with this needful product. Or have things moved on? Is loo roll the quaint preserve of tourists from the north?
Talking of which, I must also remember my passport...
No, seriously. North-south jibes aside: no id, no race registration. No registration, no number. No number, no race. And what a big, fat disappointment that would be after all this hard work. There would be tears – and lots of them.
Plus, I was thrilled to learn that runners can enjoy free – yes, it bears repeating, free – Underground travel on the day. All you have to do is flash your race number at London Transport staff and you’re off.
I absolutely definitely want that number – and not just for the free Tube ride.
Despite my stoooooopid left calf and even stoooooopider left calf muscles, I will be heading south on Saturday and wearing my number as I run/stagger/crawl around London on Sunday. Wild horses, etc...I’m genuinely looking forward to running the Big One with SG – even though it’s really gonna hurt. I’m also keen to meet the lovely people from Heart Research UK who have been so supportive and encouraging over the past 10 weeks or so. And I can’t wait to be on the receiving end of a huge hug from CM and my Mum and Dad at the finish. Sorry – I’ll be all hot and stinky.
So, it just remains to say: please send positive go-faster vibes, keep all flexible digits crossed, watch the telly, and make lots of noise for 43020 (SG) and 40334 (me).
See you on the other side – for my (final) post-marathon post.
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