So here we are, half way down the slippery slope at least. On Saturday, I’ll be heading up to Jedburgh for the 3 Peaks Ultra Marathon. I really like the Jed Ultra – along with the Blaydon Race it’s the only race I’ve not missed since I first started running. Who can argue with 38 miles of lovely border country, along the banks of the Tweed and up the mighty Eildon hills?
But, as ever, my preparation has been as bad as a man attempting to go for a space walk by taking some air in a 5p carrier bag “just in case” and a really thick jumper for the chill. I managed to get out for a 10 mile run a week ago, that’s the best I’ve managed for a while, having been a bit, well, cack.
Luckily, I’ve been regularly and extensively exercising my bloody-minded stubbornness in all manner of situations, and I can happily report it’s thriving like a crocodile at a wildebeest crossing-point.
And that’s pretty much what I’ll be relying on. Like every other year. That despite the aching legs, the tiredness, the tweaky back, I’ll plod on, with another cut-off threatening performance. Just because.
I’m not proud of it especially, in the same way that I don’t congratulate myself that my pores continue to work. It’s just a product of not enough time to train as well as I’d like and slightly more time to eat things inappropriate to my non-existent training schedule than I should allow. There’s an argument that if I ate less and trained more then that might be a good idea, but who wants to have an argument? Not me, I’ve got a mouth full of chips, I can barely talk.
In short, if you have a moment on Saturday, spare a thought for me, I’m doing something I have little business doing, and it’ll likely be hurting quite a lot.
Mind, if you see me then ask me how it’s going. There’s a pretty good chance I’ll grin like an idiot and tell you (honestly) that I’m loving it. But then, isn’t that the mark of the ultra runner?