The last time I broke into a sweat through sporting endeavour was when I waddled enthusiastically from the sofa to the front door to greet the pizza delivery man.
Therefore you may well ask why my somewhat corpulent frame will be gracing the starting line of this year’s London Marathon. (Whether it graces the finishing line is open to speculation and those who have speculated are firmly of the opinion that it won’t).
It is a good question, and one for which I don’t really have a good answer. At 46 years old, and weighing just under 15 stone, the odds are stacked against me but I suppose that is the challenge. There is a Rocky in all of us. In my case there may be two.
Can I manage in the next three months to achieve the levels of fitness I had in my youth so that I can complete the 26.2 mile course on April 13th?
Actually I need to achieve greater levels of fitness than I had then, as my only previous marathon attempt in my early twenties ended in failure around the 20 mile mark, mainly due to a complete lack of training, and my presence in a nightclub until 4 a.m. the night before.
I am both older, wiser and fatter now and shan’t be making the mistake of underestimating the marathon again. To have any chance of completing the demanding course I will need to use all the time I have got to get into shape.
The marathon requires effort, sacrifice, dedication and then more effort. Just tying the laces on my trainers make me puff but my doctor has given me the thumbs up to compete so the hard work begins now.
There is a very long way to go. And then I have to run 26 miles.
