So near and yet so far…

Sat in a London hotel counting down the hours to the big one!

My training started too late (although I seem to have been pounding the streets forever) and I am more than a little nervous.

Going for a quick jog isn’t going to help now, unless it’s to the minibar, so all I can do is hope.

Adrenaline and the fantastic crowds make a huge difference so I hope to have finished by nightfall.

The other big fillip comes every time I am notified that someone has sponsored me.

The more the RNIB stand to receive the more determined I am to make the full 26.2.

But whether you give generously or not I can promise I won’t come chasing after you!

I need a gee up!

I was starting to feel relatively confident about my chances of completing this year’s marathon before nightfall on April 26th, but my confidence isn’t shared by those who know me.

So many people have expressed doubt this week about my ability to complete the run I am beginning to think they know something I don’t. Maybe they have seen me run!

I don’t run so much as trundle and during a training session the other day I was trundling along a path parallel to a field in which three horses were being ridden.

As soon as they saw me, all three horses reared up with one unseating its rider, who fortunately was OK.

I may not be the prettiest vision in running shorts but I didn’t realise I was literally a sight to frighten the horses.

I hope there aren’t any mounted police around on race day.

The woods are beckoning

Today I expected to write a very downbeat post. It was going to focus on how my mindset has changed running the marathon for the second time.

Last year I was dedicated to running miles after mile in preparation, whereas this year I am resigned to running mile after mile in preparation, which psychologically makes a dramatic difference.

But then I went out for a training run and for the first time everything clicked into place. I actually enjoyed the experience, not hugely, but even having a tick in the positive column is a big step forward.

Without doubt it is very stupid to try to run the event with less than six weeks training, but today for the first time, I felt the first twitch of self belief.

I’m not out of the woods yet but I’m definitely running into them.

After the Lord Mayor’s Show

Running the marathon for the second time is quite frankly a bit of an anti-climax.

After completing the run last year, I described it as one of the best things I had ever done, and it was.

But so far, training for this year’s event has been one of the worst things I have done.

Running the first marathon is a ‘will I, won’t I’ dilemma filed with a few highs, and many lows, as you doubt your ability to ever cover 26.2 miles at anything resembling a run.

But having done it once, the suspense and uncertainty go. You know you can run that far, it’s just a question of putting your body through the training pain necessary to make the distance.

And yet, and yet. Because I am attempting this year’s marathon with only six weeks training, I am far from confident that I will finish. Well actually I am very confident I will, it’s the where I finish that is in doubt.

And while such a ridiculously short preparation time has meant mainly pain, the ups have been few and far between, in fact there haven’t been any to date.

So why am I running? I can only say that the day itself makes it worthwhile. The people, the noise, the colour, and the pain combine to create a stimulating and sensory experience that assumes addictive proportions.

But it’s not the training that’s addictive, and it’s not the running that’s addictive, it’s the stopping knowing you have just completed 26.2miles.

Misnomers and other things

Having my blog at Onefatman08 made complete sense when I ran last year’s marathon.

Apart from being a weak bingo joke, I was fat and it was 08.

But many have suggested that as it is now 09 I should update the title, even though as they have kindly pointed out I am still fat.

I think they are missing the point. This blog has nothing to do with accuracy; witness the fact that elsewhere I describe myself as a ‘runner’. Hah!

And the race is on (again!)

The blob is back! I will definitely be heaving my carcass over the starting line of the 2009 London Marathon, but whether it makes the finishing line this time is a moot point.

In post race euphoria in 2008 I put my name forward for this year’s event – and then forgot about it for nearly a year, which sometimes took some determination.

Then last Tuesday for reasons that still aren’t clear to me, I put on my trainers and hit the road again.

Given that this provides me with less than six weeks to get fit enough to complete the 26 mile course, I think I have set myself a ridiculous challenge, and one that no-one of sane mind or medical expertise would condone.

But I’m now back into the full training regime and already, tying my trainer laces only leaves me slightly short of breath.

Confidence is high in my household – my wife is confident I won’t get further than five miles – and my kids are confident I will hop on a tube.

They’re probably both right.

Paige has her say…

As I am running the Marathon on Sunday to raise money for the RNIB I thought my five year old daughter Paige, who has been blind from birth, should be allowed her say.

Actually Paige always has her say whether you want her to or not!

Over to Paige:

On the fundraising: “The money is to buy extra Braille books for children and extra help for blind adults and children. My favourite books are Rainbow Magic but I don’t want them in Braille because then I would have to read them and I don’t want to, I want Mummy to read them.”

On the Marathon: “I think the marathon is 26 miles which is in the north of England. I think the marathon is cool and I’m going to watch you on Sunday. I’m going to save my loudest voice for Sunday but I’m only going to shout for people called Daddy.”

On all the spectators: “I like pushing my way through a perilous crowd. I’m just going to go barge, barge barge.”

On her contribution to this post: She wrote: “fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjjfjjjffghjkdqbv1234567890.”

On what she would like YOU to do: “Pay all your money you have in the world to the RNIB. Everyone should give £120.”

Over to you…

The (very slow) time is nigh

In only a few more days this madness will be over. Quite why I decided to enter the Marathon has been completely lost in the mists of early morning jogs, but the torment is nearly done. Just the 26.2 miles to go.

I’m in the taper down period at the moment. This means that with one week left until the Marathon, activity is scaled down by 75%. For me this has basically meant lying back in the sofa doing some heavy lifting with the TV remote control.

Sunday can’t come quickly enough now, even though I am going to spend a large proportion of it pounding the streets of London. It will be very strange to be surrounded (or rather) following 50,000 fellow joggers, having spent the past three months running alone in the deserted Oxfordshire countryside.

The nearest I have come to a crowd was a couple of weeks ago when I stayed in London. I surprised myself by going for a 6.00 a.m. jog in Hyde Park. I had assumed I would pretty much have the place to myself but in the event was trying to keep my head above a sea of Lycra being worn by at least three genders of jogger.

The were runners of all ages, shapes and sizes, in bright reds, purples, greens, blues and yellows. The only thing they had in common was that they all were moving really fast.

I have immense respect for everyone who has ever completed the Marathon, and for those who will complete it on Sunday. Everyone understands the Marathon is difficult, but until you attempt to run it yourself you don’t realise just how bloody difficult, difficult can be

I would like to say a big thank you to all the very generous people, many anonymous, who have donated over the past three months, and a huge thank you to my unofficial but scarily efficient fundraising team, Claire and Nic.

Another big thank you to all of you who donate after reading this post.

The trainers of Damocles are hanging over me

Just four weeks today until we come under starter’s orders at the London Marathon and I’m in a race against time – a race to be ready to race – or at least a race to be ready to run.

The good news is that I’ve just undertaken two back to back 15 mile training runs, but the bad being that due to various other time constraints, I did nothing in the week between the two.

In the next four weeks, I have to run at least one 20 mile run, and preferably two, and train nearly every day, if I’m going to stand a reasonable chance of completing the course come April 13th.

Today I faced a new challenge. I got out of bed and set off without paying much attention to the weather. During my slumbers, there had been very heavy rainfall, which had flooded the course I take along country lanes. I turned a corner some 10 miles into the run to find the whole road covered in 18 inches of water.

Too late to go back I splashed on and over the next five miles, the water got steadily deeper and for one 200 metre stretch was actually above my knees.

I suppose it was all good training for the Marathon. Running through deep water takes considerable effort, and will no doubt come in useful should I take a wrong turn in April, and find myself jogging down the Thames.

Guilty thoughts

The endless endless running that is required to prepare for a marathon provides plenty of time to think, ideally about anything not related to jogging.

Over eight miles of painful terrain today, I was pre-occupied with DNA evidence, which seems to be the cornerstone of every major crime trial today.

And whenever there is a trial, there seems to be an expert saying that the chances of the recovered DNA having come from anyone other than the accused, are about one billion to one.  Fair enough; bang them up for life.

But hang on a minute; there are more than six billion people on the planet so statistically the chances of having the right man are slightly less than one in six.

And if you are a mass murder living in India, then there is every likelihood that someone with matching DNA lives in the same country as you. In fact if you are a mass murderer living in Bhopal there is a good chance that someone with matching DNA lives less than 600 miles away.

That’s almost an alibi.

I think my brain is being over-jogged.