Forward always

With visiting family, seeing friends, and trying to sort out a million and one jobs at home this weekend, I barely had any time to squeeze a run into my schedule. Luckily, I managed to eek out a spare hour and run six laps of my home estate.

Seven miles! Not too bad for a lazy Sunday.

I'm getting fairly adept at running these shorter distances, but this is starting to worry me. I'm good at the first seven or eight miles, but after that I begin to struggle. What will happen to me on the day? What if I reach eight miles and still have a further eighteen to run on wobbly legs? What if I put all this time and effort into training and fail to get my body prepared for the epic length of the marathon?


Maybe I'm just worrying unnecessarily. Lots of people have pointed out to me that I don't need to run the entire marathon - walk is totally understandable and probably inevitable. I understand this, I really do. At some point, I'll need to slow down and walk part of the distance.


But I want to run that course as far and as fast as I can. I want to sail through the winding London streets and know that I did it. I did this. I went from couch potato to a marathon runner in less than a year. I can do it. I want to do it, crazy as that sounds. Yeah, I'm worried and nervous and all the rest, but I really want to do this. For me. For my fiancé. For Crisis.

Post-run selfie.

All I need to do is keep going.