One Sleep ‘Til Chester

It’s a weird feeling that I have going into tomorrow’s marathon in Chester.

It’s the first marathon I’ve done, where I feel pretty confident that I’ll complete it, for one thing. That’s a big thing to say, especially at the speed I go (hopefully that statement has not jinxed me).

Even though I fell apart a little bit in the middle of Dingle, I got to the end, within the six-hour cutoff time, which means that I’ve still got those recent miles in my legs. So, I should be okay. 

I don’t have that slight terror of jeopardy, that I usually have, but conversely I also don’t have the usual excitement. Perhaps because I hadn’t planned on running Chester in the first place. It was a cheap entry offer from someone who couldn’t run anymore. I knew I’d be match fit after Dingle, so it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The excitement isn’t there because my head is already going to my plans for next year, which are, namely, getting stronger and faster. With that in mind, I’m ditching the longer distances for the time being (unless I get a place in the club draw for London, obvs). 

I’m sticking to half marathons and below, doing more specific speed and hill sessions, and I’m planning on doing my heavy weights twice a week. Having seen the results of one fifty-minute effort a week, I’ve become a heavy-weights evangelist and am completely sure it is the remedy for niggles, recovery speeds, and probably the common cold too!

Knowing that it will help to slow down the drop in my bone density makes it an absolute no-brainer, and I’m telling women as often as I can, that we should be doing this en masse. It’s not as dull as I used to think it was – especially if you put on your favourite podcast, you can do it at home with some dumbbells – if you’ve had a lesson or two on good form, and over just a short time you do notice how much stronger you feel, and that feeling is great.

But, getting back to my feelings about this marathon on Sunday. I know it’s only October, but my lack of enthusiasm probably means that I could do with a little break from all this long distance running.

I’ll get that rest in a little over twenty-four hours, and having put down all this bumpf about not quite feeling the love, I think I’ve written my way out of the negativity. I know that I’ll enjoy myself once I’m running – well at least for the first half or so – and I’ll get another go at seeing how close to the five-hour mark I can reach. I know I’m getting slower, but I can hope!

It is at least nice to know that it doesn’t hold the same fears that it once did. I know it will be damn hard, I know I’ll have my low points, but I know that I’ve come out the other side and I will again.

I’m going to go now and sort my kit out and, just as importantly, find the flask for my chocolate milk at the end. Roll on tomorrow evening when I can put my feet up and have a glass of fizz.