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.
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