Judgement Day

It's finally here. The day I've both longed for and dreaded every moment for the last seven months. It doesn't feel real. I'm sitting on another coach to London with my marathon-approved kit bag between my feet. This bag is heavy. I've probably overpacked, but what do you take to a marathon? I have my kit for tomorrow. My tracking tag. Running shirt. Protein. Water. Bagels for breakfast. Pasta for tonight. My instruction booklet. Coach tickets. Hostel confirmation. Is it enough? Is it too much? Have I forgotten anything? I'm driving myself crazy with doubts and worries.

But I'm putting on a brave face, like this guy.

I spent the day trying not to think about anything. Went to see Avengers: Endgame with my fiance and a mate. Then the movie ended and all the worries came rushing back. Have I done enough? Should I have pushed harder? Have I eaten right? Will I be able to do this?

I know it's pointless to worry and I'm trying to focus on all the advice I received at the expo yesterday. It's my first marathon, relax! Enjoy it! Revel in the atmosphere and enjoy the feeling of a thousand people screaming my name!

Part of my worry is the sheer logistics of it. As stupid and arrogant as it sounds, I have never really sat down and thought about what I'm going to be achieving tomorrow. Lots of people have told me that I'm brave/ crazy/ both, but I've never really felt like either. I signed up to fulfil a personal dream and keep my fitness going. Never once did I stop to actually think about anything except the finish line. All I've been focusing on is the end, not the journey. I'm going to see the Cutty Sark. The Thames. Canary Wharf. Lizzie's Place.

'Keep running, peasant'

Deep down, I know I've done everything I can to prepare physically. Mentally is another story. Can you mentally prepare for a marathon? Or do you just have to run it? My guess is the second one. I know how challenging it can be to keep pushing yourself, to keep going when all you want to do is rip off your legs and throw them in the bin. I've never run with anyone else, or had people watch me go. That's going to be a strange new experience. But an exciting one!

It's been one hell of a journey to get to this place right now. To be here, calling myself a marathon runner. All the work I've put in. The sweat. The tears. The times I asked if it was even possible to do this. I set my targets and I reached them. Most people don't start training seriously until after Christmas, but I was working my arse off back in October to be ready for this point. I remember how good it felt to run six miles. Nine miles. Ten. Thirteen. Fifteen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. I taught myself how to run, then how to run long distances. I did this. I earned it.

The whole time, I've tried not to let any of this go to my head or to get cocky about anything.  But tomorrow morning, when I stand in Greenwich Park with tens of thousands of other people and start walking to the beginning of the 2019 London Marathon, I'll allow myself to smile with pride. I made it. I did it. I earned it.

So this is the end of my journey. This time last year, I was overweight, unmotivated, unable to achieve anything meaningful. Now I'm a marathon runner.

Tonight I will try to sleep. Tomorrow I will go out there and have the best day of my life. Come rain or shine, hell or high water. I'm finishing what I started seven long months ago. And after that... Who knows? The world is my oyster. Maybe I'll take up some of those offers I got yesterday and go see what the Frankfurt marathon is like. Or Valencia. Or Norway. I can do it. I can do anything I choose.

Thanks for reading my strange blog and coming on this ride with me. I'll try to tell you what it was like early next week. In 24 hours time, this will all be in the past.

Seven months. One day. Twenty six miles. Bring it on. I'm ready.