Still running (just about)

Image: Jasmine Nguyen

I now have less than two weeks to go until The Big Race. Dread.

My training (actually, that should be "training") has not been what you would call successful.

First, there was the stitch. I have been bizarrely plagued by a stitch in my right side. At first it would hit after around seven minutes. I tried running through it - BAD idea. I tried leaving more time between eating and running, which helped to keep me going for about twenty minutes, but I'm pretty sure you have to be a bit whizzier than me to run 5.4 miles in twenty minutes. Finally the insanely fit Ellie gave me some good breathing advice which has helped a lot - the evil stabby stitch still tries to get me, but I know how to smack it back down. Take that, stitch! So, that should be me sorted, right?

WRONG.

No sooner is one problem fixed than another pops up in its place. Next it was the air conditioning in the gym breaking down, which, combined with the crrrazy sunny weather we had in April, had me close to passing out on the treadmill. Not cool (literally, ha). Yeah, I know, I should run outside, but I pay good money for that damn gym membership and I'm going to bloody well use it! At least until I remember to cancel it.

Image: Jagger Photography via Green Wedding Shoes

Then I made the foolish, foolish decision to wear my red cowboy boots to lunch (why oh why?). The boots were bought on an ebay impulse after seeing one too many pictures of awesome ladies rocking red boots (and, um, also this four-year-old. What can I say, I like her style).

My cowboy boots were £10. £10! A bargain, I hear you cry! But are they a bargain if every time you wear them you end up with blisters the size of 50 pence pieces on your heels? I mean Every. Single. Time? Including the time I wore them on Saturday, just two weeks before the race?? Yeah, thought not. I think I might have spent another £10 on plasters alone.

I still needed to train though (especially after I took a week-long extended break from running to, erm, basically watch the Royal Wedding and eat Easter eggs) so I layered up the plasters and headed to the gym. Thankfully my feet were actually okay. No chafing. Such a relief. I just wish I could say the same about my *ahem* chest area, which has now randomly decided it is no longer compatible with my usual *ahem* support arrangements. Let's just say it was not the most pleasant run I've ever had. Ouch.

So, change of sports bra, but tonight my stupid left knee has come out of nowhere and started to hurt, AND I got blisters on the soles of my feet where I have never ever had them before. What. The. Fuck???

Oh and as if this all wasn't enough, it now transpires that I'm not allowed to run with my iPod during the marathon, so instead of my carefully crafted motivational playlist (yes, Kelly Clarkson is on it), all I will hear as I slog along will be the sound of my own pathetic wheezing and maybe a few people asking me to move so they can run past me. Sigh.

Image: hoa1090

I would say the Universe was trying to tell me something (again), directing me to ditch the dreaded run and instead engage in a pizza-fest of epic proportions.

And then, of course, the Universe goes and reminds me why I'm running in the first place. Raising money for people with cancer, bla bla bla. The usual. But there is a reason even more serious, more profound, than that:

It's LESS THAN SIX WEEKS UNTIL BIKINI TIME, PEOPLE!

Eek. Better get running.