when I did a boris
I’m not entirely proud of this but them’s the breaks
So, how has your September been?
This is always a good question to ask yourself at the end of any month, by the way – don’t just race into the next month mindlessly without learning lessons from the last. Interesting that I mention racing – we will come back to this topic in a bit – but first I need to explain myself.
I have quite unashamedly done a bit of a Boris. Boris is famously known for having written two entirely opposing newspaper articles before the Brexit vote, and decided which one to put out based on the circumstances that he found himself in… This is that. You might be reading version one, or version two.
In this version, I have some big news.
Back in 2020, in the throes of covid and lockdown, I did a rather out of character, possibly irrational thing. When those that lived with me found out that I had done it, the key question was, ‘why on earth did you apply for this, when you have no intention of doing it?’. This is, of course, an entirely fair and rational question. The answer was, quite simply, ‘because nobody who ever applies ever actually gets in.’
Except I did. My husband has tried repeatedly through paid-for boosted places, never getting a place. I tried, just one time, no boost, and got a place.
When I opened the email I felt borderline sick. Virtual confetti appeared all over the screen and the reality of ridiculous behaviour and its forthcoming consequences hit me.
I’d got a place in the London Marathon.
Fast forward to 2021.
I was hugely relieved that I couldn’t actually do the marathon because it was my son’s moving into uni weekend and so I deferred my entry. I deferred because I was still kidding myself that I might do it, it felt wasteful to give it up because I’d actually had to pay for this nightmare scenario and I was also still living in cloud cuckoo land.
Fast forward to 2022.
Hello, piriformis syndrome and psoas syndrome, my two new roomies. A lot of pain, chiropractic manipulation (see previous post) and the inability to move at any speed for more than about 30 seconds. Numbness down my leg, pain in my hips, bum, legs – you get the picture. A picture you probably don’t want or need.
I was at a decision point. It’s taking place in October 2022 and I have exactly 24 weeks until race day. I have to decide if I am in or if I am out – or, at least if I am going to try.
I did some googling and found a 24 week race plan for utter idiots. I printed it out and secretly started to follow it. Very, very slowly.
It has been really, really hard. I have cried and felt like giving up repeatedly. I am the slowest of runners and I am actually slower at running than many people are at walking (helpfully pointed out by my youngest son).
And here we are. It’s next week. I’ve not made it. My training hasn’t worked out and my body just isn’t playing ball. I’ve not taken this decision lightly, I’m now under doctor investigations, and I am gutted. There’s a big part of me that feels like a fraud and that I can’t do hard things, that I’m not resilient and I always knew inside I wouldn’t make it. I’m trying hard not to choose that narrative and instead be honest with you all. Sometimes we don’t make it. I had my chance and I didn’t manage to do it. I honestly don’t think I will ever do it, and I’ve now had a couple of weeks to get my head around this, and I think I’m OK with that.
My mom, one of the best people on this planet, has Parkinson’s Disease. It’s cruel and it’s not fair. I wanted to run for her. Would you do me a favour and learn a little more about Parkinson’s, or even consider donating to the Parkinson’s UK?
Thank you so much for being the encouraging community you are – please think of me on Sunday, I probably won’t feel at my best.