I’ve been in training for a year. It’s been relentless even though I started slowly. I experimented with interval training but I couldn’t get the intervals right so I reverted to the traditional method; it was a better fit and suited my physical and mental condition. As the big day drew ever nearer, I turned up the frequency and duration and pushed myself almost to my limit.
The night before, as is recommended, I loaded up on carbs and made sure I had an early night.
On Sunday I was up early; the tension and excitement had me switched on and hyper excited. There’s so much to talk about ‘on the day’, but my memories will be the atmosphere, the crowds, the welcome drinks breaks, and the emotional and physical aspects. It was, to be honest, incredibly emotional. I burst into tears at several points. I also hit a physical wall about 2h 45m where I wasn’t sure I could keep going any longer.
But I dug deep and found something which kept me going, even though my pace and enthusiasm waned. I just managed to keep going and I can’t explain why or how.
Today, Monday, I’m drained. I ache and I feel washed out and also exulted and thrilled.
That’s it for 2025. I’ll probably watch it on TV next year again. I’m almost out of chocolate after all that!
Well done you!
I didn’t watch it, myself.
Oh, back in the day, when I was younger and fitter, I would watch it all the time, but, not any more.
I reckon I could probably manage to watch a half-marathon.
At a push.
We are of a similar mind on this. It’s a difficult job. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it next year.