Oh yes, training. It all really starts in the Alps on July 28. At which point I'm thinking, "as soon as I get back from the Alps, I'll start a proper marathon training plan". Then I'm away on wonderful journey across glaciers, over big snow-peaks, from Switzerland to Italy and back. We go over 4500m on Thursday and reach the summit of Signalkuppe, then get hit by a nasty summer storm and pelted with hail bullets, but arrive safely back in Zermatt and celebrate with Rosti, beer and Chivas Regal.
On Saturday, I'm limping through Luton Airport with two paiful, swollen and ulcerated little toes, and a little black cloud floating over my head. Only a little one mind, because eight days in the Alps is worth any number of toes. Up to ten I would say.
On the other hand, or foot, marathon training seems a long way off. Any movement is painful.
On Monday morning, I'm cycling to the doctor's surgery in flip-flops. "Hrrrmph, don't think much of them!" says the Doc, as he peers at my feet from a long way off. Some antibiotics will clear it up nicely, he says. I'd just like them to be normal size. At the moment they resemble rotten aubergines. At least they're taking my mind off the sprained ankle I got falling off a bog-road in Ireland last month.
I go into work and change into a suit and shoes, then take the shoes off and put the flip-flops back on. With socks. I feel sick. When I get home I fall asleep on the sofa at 9:30 with no running done.
The next day follows a similar pattern. Flip-flops on, work, flip-flops off, flop on sofa, goodnight Berlin. By Wednesday morning I'm seriously worried about my chances of staying awake for long enough to train, never mind having any feet to do it with. I take the precaution of being too ill to work all day, then decide that enough's enough and put some extra Compeed on the toes and head out for my first run in 2 weeks. I manage 3 miles before coming home in a sweaty heap and promptly falling asleep again.
I repeat the Compeeding the following night, and jog down to Winsford Common to meet the lovely people from Weedall's Wonders (loosely Vale Royal AC) for a nice easy hill reps session. I'll need to do lots of hills to get right for this marathon! I've taken the precaution of coming out early and walking the dogs along the circuit, taking a stick and smashing the nettles into bits. At least I won't get my arse stung even if I only make one rep. In the event, I make 6 reps. And it wasn't even painful. I give up while the going is good and leave Tony to do the full eight, while the rest of us stand about and tell ourselves that six really good reps are better than eight really good ones. Or something like that. I jog home afterwards feeling much happier with the world. This training business will be a breeze.
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