Can't Believe I'm Fed Up With Eating

I'm doing Ok with the fundraising. Reached my WellChild target of 1500 and already raised £150 for Gloucestershire Young Carers. but let me tell you that I would have raised it all much quicker and then some if I 'd had a penny for every time I' e had the following conversation: Jane to whoever: 'I'm running in the Marathon'
Whoever: 'What? the London Marathon?'
It absolutely floored me each time that happened. What a strange reaction. Is the London Marathon somehow longer than other Marathons?
Anyway, so here I am...sitting on my bed in the hotel room. I got through the injury that wasn't an injury (according to my physio who really didn't feel the pain), I have avoided Max's numerous attempts to curtail my training with various viruses he's conjured up, I managed 20 miles - admittedly in pain and what seems like months ago now - and I've even resisted the temptation to run this week. I got all this way and now only one thing is threatening to hinder my performance....SLEEP. Or lack of it.
for so many years I have dreamed of having an excuse to take myself off to bed for a few early nights and catch up on the sleep that I swear I am owed from the first two years of Max's life. so this week, my chance came. with the family's blessing I went off to bed on Thursday at 8pm. by 9 o'clock I had put my iPod on...bit of music to calm me but, of course all my tracks are running themed in preparation for the big day. So I tried a podcast or two but Ricky Gervais makes me laugh out loud. I eventually turned to my audio bible...not surprisingly I finally drifted off in the middle of Deuteronomy. It was about 10.30 when I hit the land of nod and Max woke at 7.
So I tried again on Friday in the Hotel. neon who has tried to sleep next to two wired children will know that I didn't have a hope in Hell. At Midnight Max stopped flailing around in his sleep...making me fear that I make it to the start line with a thousand bruises. So no joy there.
As I write this I am freshly woken from a 45 minute nap which I opened my eyes from only to find myself thinking 'oh crap. I've forgotten my safety pins to pin my runnernumber on!'
And so my mind works.
But the two things I am loving most about this final weekend are...the commeraderie and, of course, the eating.
anyone who knows me will know that I haven't got through this year of training without a few books to help me. One such book has come into its own this week and is called: Nancy Clark's Food Guide For Marathoners. Firstly, I just like re-reading the title as I still can't believe I am a 'Marathoner' and secondly it is the diet for anyone who has dieted all their life. It is the Anti-diet. Like A Dawkins book to The Bible. Like Ozzie Osborne to Susan Boyle. Basically it says eat as much as you like...particularly the stuff you like for a whole week and if you put on four pounds by Marathon day then you are doing it right. Now this is what makes running a marathon worth it. And I have to say that as I sit here I find myself full and actually craving salad! I've eaten chips, bagels, pretzels, bananas, biscuits and consumed carb drinks...and I ate a bit like that yesterday too. It's fab.
Now all I've got to do is miss a meal tomorrow! Oh ... And run 26.2 miles. Keep forgetting that!

I Can't Believe I'm Lying on a Rolling Pin!

Well it has happened. I knew it was going too well - 2 years of running, up to 18 miles and 3 and a half hours on my feet and boom! Injury!
At the end of my last 18 miler (God did I really say that?)I felt a deep ache in the top of the outside of my thigh. Well only to be expected when you've been running for 3 and a half hours eh? So I thought nothing of it. Ran the rest of the week short runs - no worries. Then I'm out on my 'long run' aiming for my one off 20 miles. The last big push before the BIG DAY. At 7 miles my thigh aches. At 8 miles it's getting quite bad. At 9 miles I phoned Colin to moan to him. But I kept going - if I was going to have to quit I wasn't quitting before 10 miles - a respectable amount of mileage.
It's at this point that the dilemma occurs - should I stay or should I go.
The thought of phoning for a lift home in the middle of a long run seems as shameful as Dad turning up early at a party to take you home.
Failure is the first word that springs to mind. I haven't reached my end goal. For at least three miles I battled with my own misgivings. A veritable argument going on in my head - I can do a few more miles surely? - I can run through this throbbing ache can't I? It's not debilitating is it? But then the angel on my shoulder is whispering ... but what if it is injuring you long-term.
I've had an injury only once before - right at the beginning of my 'running career'. Crap shoes and inexperience led me to complete a 30 minute run with an achilles problem - I ended up out of action for a good couple of weeks.
I can't afford time out now. Only 6 weeks of serious running left. Panic is setting in. What if I injure myself and can't run at all. What if this happens 10 miles into the Marathon. Oh Crap!
So limping across Plock Court I admit defeat and Colin comes to pick me up.
The journey home is miserable. I find myself crying...frustration, disappointment, fear.
And then I find myself still amazed ... sports injuries, prospect of physio? Who is this person? When did I become someone who talks about illiotibial Bands?
So Sunday morning I find this unfamiliar person texting a recommended physiotherapist.
And today a good friend sends me a link to an hilarious You Tube video that promotes rolling around on a swimming woggle or rolling pin to 'release your illiotibial band'. And today I will be shifting my training to a rowing machine...

I Can't Believe I'm a fitness fanatic

I distinctly remember giving running a go when I was in my early 20's. My effort comprised a brief explosion of effort which took me 5 minutes up a hill near my student flat in Sunderland and then ended in me collapsing in a breathless, crumpled bundle on the pavement. This episode of youthful effort came back to me today upon passing my 19 year old student friend Ben at the local gym where he was admirably attempting to get fit through weightlifting. The worthy image of him pushing at a reluctant bar on a bench press was juxtaposed later in the day when I visited his facebook site to see a gallery of photos which all featured him drinking and, in no uncertain terms, 'partying'. Ah the memories came flooding back. So what has now changed my attitude so drastically? Is it wisdom, the sudden awareness of mortality, lack of cash or time to go partying or just one last desperate attempt to 'get fit' before I pass the point of no return? Who knows, but what is for sure...The 19 year old self which never seems to have left me is looking at me now in wonderment and disbelief as I run miles on road and treadmill, do squats until I can't walk and abstain from alcohol and overload on protein with my sights set on an unimaginable goal...and I whisper to myself again...'I can't believe I'm going to run a marathon!'.