The London Marathon kicks off in just four weeks and a couple of days. Am I ready? Kind of, yes. But this week, like so many others, has been about getting awkward little things done, and hoping the big things will hang on for a while.
I've been doing some bits and bobs towards fundraising, as I told the hospice I would try and raise around £2,500 for them. That sounds like a lot - well, it is quite a lot - but it's a local charity, and people respond to that. They've touched a lot of people here over the years, and hopefully I will be able to get plenty of support from locals as a result.
We've got a night with a bunch of (mostly punk) bands playing; the Assembly Rooms donated the room free of charge (on a Saturday night, too!), and four bands are giving up their time for absolutely nothing. Even the PA is free of charge. One band has even said they don't want to get in for free, they want to buy tickets to boost the fundraising! Everyone is being pretty wonderful about it, and when you have support like that, you know you simply cannot fail them.
This week's been so busy… Between myself and WonderWife, we work four days a week in a local shop. The money really helps, as we're trying to get our bag business up and running. And I have what I jokingly call my real work too, which is time consuming and mentally demanding, though not all that difficult. Plus the dog needs lots of walking, which is always an absolute pleasure – but it all cuts into the time. So when does one train? If I can get my lazy arse out of bed, I try and get out bright and early, but I've been hamstrung this week (not literally) because of the lunar cycle. I'm a slave to that fucker - for a few days every month, I drink myself stupid in order to get to sleep. My emotions are all over the place, my brain won't shut up, and the only solution I have found is alcohol. Not ideal, as running the next day is not particularly attractive.
So anyway, I've not done a single run this week. I did a 16-miler on Sunday, which was a struggle because I had been on my feet all day Saturday (I took WonderWife on a trip to the seaside) and hadn't really taken into account how tired I was. This weekend I need to nail another 20-miler, so Saturday will be taken up by not doing very much at all, with an eye on Sunday. I'll go out and do 3.5 miles tonight to wake myself up a bit, before coming home for a bath and taking my wife out for lager and curry.
One thing I have been doing while out on runs is visualising finishing the race. I've discovered that when I do this, I actually well up, and could even burst into tears. What does all this mean for race day? It means I am a big soft shite, of course. Big. Soft. Shite.