Go For A Run Or Drink Wine

It's Sunday and according to my "running schedule", aka a book written in the mid-nineties I bought off Amazon five mins after Googling "marathon / running / absolute beginners", I'm supposed to go for a run today.  I didn't, I opened a bottle of red wine instead.

The book was written pre-apps, pre-running mileage watches, pre-fancy footwear, GPS, pedometers, calorie counters, heart rate monitors, and it was only when the author suggested 'mapping your running route on a map' I realised when it was written!  A map?  Is it 1814?

Fook it,  I like my book, I like the fact it insists I need only run four times a year, whoops, I mean week, as opposed five (Runners World it aint).  I like the fact there's no mention of times and 'personal bests' or PB's, as they're known (amazing I know this already).  I love the fact my ancient book promises only one thing: I will finish the marathon be it in 10 hours or 15, whether I crawl or am rolled over the finish line by a kind volunteer, it will happen, a fact that's good enough for me.

It's December, I was supposed to run today but I chose to drink wine instead.  As you can tell, training is going ever so well.  In other news, I've found an amazing mileage running watch with built in GPS, pedometer, calorie counter and heart monitor.  Now that's what I call multitasking fashion.

Jogging on....

What Would Patsy Do...

Would Patsy Stone ever consider running 26.2 miles?  Would Patsy Stone commence training for said 26.2 miles on a freezing cold December morning?  Would Patsy Stone wear an ancient bright pink NIKE shell top she found at the bottom of her "inactivity drawer"?  Nah, doubt it, she'd run a mile to the nearest private members club in stack-heel Pradas...

*The heavy bit*

After witnessing my grandmother's slow demise to dementia and subsequent death in March, after carrying her coffin into the crematorium with my brother and cousin, I (finally) realised life should be grabbed by the bollocks while one has full use of mind, limbs and hair (I knew my grandmother had lost her battle with Dementia when the nursing home hairdresser cut her locks into a traditional 'granny cut').  My grandmother never sported a granny-cut, nay, she was all Farrah Fawcett blonde swished fringe, pink lippy and a cape.  She loved a flouncy cape.

*The crazy bit*

Shortly after the funeral I decided to take a firm grip of the ball sack of life and thought, ' I'm going to run the fooking marathon'.  I didn't say fooking, but you know... Anyway, next I did what I always do when I don't know how to do something; I bought a book on marathon running.

*The lazy bit*

I spent a month reading about marathon running (in bed) but couldn't be arsed to go for an actual run.  Far too cold.

*The scary bit* 

Then my friend, Kate Spicer, Mencap fundraiser extraordinaire, emailed to confirm I had AN ACTUAL MARATHON PLACE running for Mencap.

What would do Patsy do?   She'd go shopping.  So I did.  Can't believe how many lovely trainers there are out there.