I don’t know whether I’ve ever mentioned it before (you can probably tell by the juvenile humour in my blog) but I write for children. It’s kinda my job.
I love all types of fiction … science fiction, fantasy, fairy stories, fables and cautionary tales. But little did I realise that, one day, I would become a leading character in my own cautionary tale. And this is the story. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin…
‘The runner who couldn’t say ‘No thank you.’
Once upon a time there was a runner called Kelly. Although she lived in the middle of a mountain range where jagged peaks spiked through passing clouds like skewers through kebab meat, she ran…and ran…and ran. Kelly loved running so much that she wrote about it, talked about it and, when she wasn’t running, even read books about it. Yes, Kelly really liked running.
All of Kelly’s friends thought that her running was great. They were proud of her for doing lots of running. They pretended to listen when she talked about it for hours and hours and tried not to fall asleep when she showed them her lifetime achievements on her mi-coach app. Aren’t they good friends? They were such good friends that, when she went out with them and didn’t drink alcohol at all, they simply shook their heads and grinned in a ‘bless her, she’s mental’ kind of way.
But one evening, just before Kelly and her friends went out to play, a kind girl produced a bottle of champagne. It had recently been Kelly’s birthday and they were celebrating. Kelly took a glass of champagne and it tasted very nice. It was so nice that she had another. And another. And another two…or three…or four. The champagne made Kelly think of another drink she REALLY liked the taste of… wine.
After 5 hours of catching up on tastes she had forgotten, Kelly was so excited she could hardly remember her own name. And, when her friends said they would book her a taxi to take her back to her palace, Kelly replied, “’sssoooright… I’m a runner…I’ll run home.” Because her friends knew that Kelly was very good at running, they let her go. And Kelly ran her fastest ever mile- down cobbled streets, in pumps. And she fell. But it didn’t hurt very much because she was still full excited bubbles.
But the following morning, when Kelly got up to run 13 miles, everything hurt. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, her back, her hip, her ankle…even her little finger which had been broken quite a few weeks ago and had been healing well. Dear readers, Kelly didn’t run 13 miles, she went back to bed instead and there she stayed for the whole day. She felt very sorry for herself and was a teeny bit grumpy.
The next day, the wind was so terrible that it would have been dangerous to run outside so poor Kelly had to do something she had never EVER done before… she had to go to the gym and learn how to use a treadmill. Poor, silly Kelly!
(Not the end of the half marathon training, just the story. I’m MUCH more determined than that! )
The very worst thing about the story (apart from the fact that it is true) is that I cannot catch up on the long run for two reasons:
a) The weather sucks. It is dangerous to run outside because whole sections of tree, wheely bins and small children are flying about in the wind.
b) The treadmill is SO boring that I cannot bring myself to spend 2 hours on it. I recently read a post on one of my forums (please forgive me if it was yours and I haven’t quoted you directly) which mentioned something about ‘being so bored on the treadmill that he considered chewing his arm off.’ I know exactly how that poor guy felt.
I ran whilst watching ‘Homes Under the Hammer,’ and listening to Women’s Hour on Radio 4. The conditions were perfect for running a good 10 treadmill miles but I lost the will to live after 4.6 miles and went off to investigate the weights instead.
So I’m just going to have to make it NOT matter that I missed a long run so close to the race. Come Saturday I will be alcohol free, peppy and ready for action and hopefully my liver won’t explode whilst I’m running!Three weeks to go! Aargh x