I have, just this morning, found out that the RNLI have afforded me a place in the London Marathon, which takes place on April 13 next year. Eek. The reality of what started off as a drunken dare has now hit me like a bucket of ice cold water. I am REALLY going to do this.
Still rather giddy, and with the acceptance email still open, the first person I called was my dear mother.
"What? Why on earth ... ?" she quizzed. "You know you'll have to take this seriously; it is a huge commitment. I remember when you did that sponsored half-marathon ... " More on that below, I don’t want to think about that soul-destroying day just now. It had been lodged in some forgotten, moth-eaten pocket of my mind until that phone call. Mum’s are handy like that …
After crippling my confidence, and turning me green, I wished mum well and hung off. I won't be relying on her for a motivation speech for this marathon. Kick-up-the-arse has always been her style - why would I expect any difference now, for this - the biggest challenge I have ever faced? Gulp.
I set up my sponsorship page this afternoon and the wheels are in motion. I feel ill.
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