Well, this is crap. It’s now less than a week until the Brighton Marathon, the first of I don’t know how many 26.2 milers I’ll be doing to prepare for the Marathon des Sables 2018, and I’m in a right grump. Here’s five reasons why:
I can’t go for a proper run
The weather’s perfect, I feel great and I’m itching for a nice long run. And I CAN’T. The longest outing this week’s schedule (pictured) will allow me is a piddly little 35 minutes tomorrow. I know, I know… I have to rest to allow my legs to recover from the past few months of four or five runs a week, blah, blah. But it’s a drag.
I’ve become a weather obsessive
Sure, the weather’s great now, but what about on Sunday? I’m starting to develop an unhealthy obsession with that question, shushing anyone who has the temerity to speak during the weather forecast and checking my phone’s weather app far too often. At the moment, it’s looking unsettled. Damn it.
I don’t know what to wear
Long sleeves or short? Shorts, leggings or both? Hat or headband? Sunglasses and contacts or my usual specs? I don’t care what I look like (whatever I’m wearing, I look a bit daft when I’m running), but I do care whether I’m comfortable or not. I’ve now been through more outfits than a teenager on prom night. I still don’t have a clue.
I’m not sure what to eat
‘Are you eating lots of pasta?’ That’s what everyone keeps asking me, and it’s pissing me off. I don’t do carbs because it helps me manage my type one diabetes better. Being low carb has seen me through training fine but with all the talk of carb loading and ‘the wall’ I’m starting to question if it can see me through 26.2 miles. Any tips, anyone?
I can’t drink beer
Rest day usually means beer night. Not this week. Not much running and zero beer makes for a very grumpy me. Particularly when my final cold one before my week’s abstinence on Sunday was interrupted by Sprog the Younger, who managed to score a direct hit by projectile vomiting in my beer (pictured). Grrr.
Sunday can’t come soon enough.