Rolling

So I was a little bummed to discover that I hadn’t been successful in gaining a place on the ballot of the 2018 London Marathon.  I know, I know.  It’s such a first world problem and it’s so dull that I am getting caught up in all this running stuff.  I will change the record soon, honest.  Of the hundreds of thousands who apply, only a handful of people actually get a place and apparently just over half of those runners in the event haven’t even run a marathon before.  So I am not the only keen bean out there.  I used to watch the brave, sweaty souls in years gone by running past my flat in London and, along with the gazillion other cheerleaders on the route, got very caught up with it all.  With a tear-stained cheek and a deep sigh I thought: “One day that is going to be me”.   So it’s been a ‘to do’ for yonks.

I applied for a ballot place earlier in the year, which feels like a lifetime ago now.  But then an email hit my inbox this week like a dark, irremovable ink spot.  “Commiserations, your application for the marathon has been unsuccessful”.  I am a petulant child.  Those bastards.  Don’t they know that I’ll try really hard, train and eat all the right stuff, even over Christmas AND Easter.  Promise.  After my walking plan brain wave I felt like I was on a roll.  I mean, I know it’s a lottery and all but what a slap in the face.  So I thought I’d take action and grasp matters with my own sulky hands.  How else could I run?  Who was going to let me join their merry band of racers and give me a shot at hurtling 26 odd miles for them?

After our recent tragedy I turned to the Samaritans to guide us on how to inform our young children of their loss.  They were a lighthouse in a tempestuous sea.  Straightforward and kind.  So what better way to repay them the debt of their relevant language and considerate advice than raising some funds to help them help others in strife.  They were on my list of charities to sign up with had I got a ballot place anyway.  So I got in touch with them.  Granted, I had a killer background story to work from, (sorry for dining out on your passing my darling Lucy), and of course when I told them of our bereavement they sat up and listened.  I explained that I could not possibly go without running the marathon next year, when I need it now for our grief, now when emotions are still raw and now to climb back from the edge.  The absolute truth.  And for once in my life with no exaggeration necessary.  So I negotiated a place.

You heard me.  I bargained.  I made an arrangement.  I promised to raise a ton of money for them actually.  That’s probably what hooked ‘em.  And although the task is formidable, as I have only ever run a mere half  marathon before and did a 10K recently which I practically crawled, it’s not really about all that for the charities, is it?  It’s about fundraising and exposure and flying a flag.  So I swear that I will do my utmost best to do all those things.  I’m excited to meet others who have pledged to do the same, and to have some structure to the next few months, whilst being hand-held and supported all the way to the start line.  And I’ll sell stuff, bake stuff and wear stupid stuff in order to raise funds.  Because if I can do a run with the thought that it may help someone else in their darkest hour, even in the teeniest way, then it’ll be worth all the blood, sweat and tears won’t it?  Although, is it true you can run your toenails off?  Oh help me if that’s right.

So there you go.  I’ve never turned a ‘no’ into a ‘yes’ in such quick time.  I am Cher in Clueless arguing my school grades.  You should try it, it feels awesome.  But maybe it’s a bit cocky and irritating to ask for what you want constantly and not stop trying until you get what you want.  Well if it works for my kids with biscuits, then in this instance it works for me.  And now I am running the London Marathon on the 22nd April 2018.  There is (nearly) another tick off the list but under entirely different circumstances than originally intended.  After this I have to start some regular stuff.  I am making my vanilla self look bad.  In the meantime I am walking with the Mental Health Mates and training.  AND I am gonna eat a fair few excusable carbohydrates, which let’s face it, has always been my real motivation for such lunacy.

But after all this heroic chat and before I really begin this health kick, I’m off to Stockholm.  For a perfectly indulgent, entirely selfish hurrah with my fella before prep time.  And we’re seeing the Rolling Stones play live.  Oh yeah.  And you bet I’ll wax poetic about that for a few paragraphs and bore the socks off you so much you’ll want to flip back to the “cats who are afraid of shadows” videos on your news feed.  But you’ll have to wait for that because I am, for once, busy.

Hah 😉

Image by Alvy Carragher from Running to HELL, Humiliation and Public Disgrace from the All the Finesse of a Badger blog.  Read it.  It’s frickin’ hilarious.