The night before...

In just over 12 hours, I'll be running.

Now this blog, I feel deserves total honesty from me.

So this week:

I managed not to drink any coffee, until this morning when I got a take out Cappucino, got into the car, and drank half of it before I remembered. Oops?

I hadn't drunk any alcohol until yesterday (friday), when I fell over whilst running in heels, ruined my fave blue woollen tights and grazed my knee. The pain was such that I had a fruit cider to numb it.

I tried running on Tuesday, but my legs were like lead and hurt like hell, so it was more of a long walk. I haven't been out since.

I have spent all day today trying to forget why I am staying with the lovely Holly Shaw and her family. I'm convincing myself it's a mini-break. Could be a bit of a shock to the system when I have to not only put a tracksuit on tomorrow morning, but also be seen in public in said tracksuit. Oh dear.

I have written the names of everyone I can think of who has been directly affected by transplant on my t shirt - whether they're waiting, they've received an organ or more tragically, if they've died waiting. So they are my motivation.

On the offchance you're reading this before I run - please send me a text, drop me an email, facebook me. I will try to reply! I could really do with the distraction whilst running!

I love you all. Wish me luck!!
xxxx

Hitting the final countdown (dee dee dee dee, dee dee dee dee deeeeee...)

So people. Hold on to your underwear, we're into the final week.

This is the tough bit. Not only do I really have to run, but I have to behave myself in a manner fitting that of a top athlete (like what I obviously is...). So this week, I have a plan:

At least 1 pasta meal each day (have stocked up on sauces and the like already)

No Booze. I stopped on Sat Night (in amazing style in Durham, of course, where I decided that G&T is always better minus the T. Hardcore, me.)

Sleeping normally. Well, I'm trying on that one. Going to tonight (after I've caught up on Glee...).

No Caffiene. Now this I'm REALLY struggling with. I live off coffee. The girls on my course all commented this morning when I bought a bottle of Oasis instead of the 5th espresso I'd normally be on. Tonight, I nearly fell asleep in my sign language class. Luckily I pulled myself out of it, as it's not like anyone could have shouted at me to wake me up...

But onto the good news before I cry myself to sleep, faced with a week of bloated tiredness ending in a god-awful run.

Yesterday, my darling brother Hazza (or the Lanky Git, as I like to call him) decided that we should have a dry run of the full 10k. 6.2 miles. As I said, Git. So I went for it, and learnt a number of things:

By Mile 2, crying about how hideous it all was really did seem like a logical thing to do. Quite glad my little bro didn't let me stop running and swore at me until I pulled myself together.

Harry running ahead doing the YMCA, skipping and generally taking the Michael was not a great support at some points, but did at least make me smile sometimes. That helped.

My brother really cannot read a map. That's an extra half a K I'm never getting back...

I can run further and faster than I previously believed. Yes, I did it. 10.5k. And guess my time...

No, you really have to guess...

This is a fully interactive blog, and thus you must get involved too....

ok, No, you're all completely wrong, it was not the 2 hours I myself had thought, but 1 hour 15mins. Oh yes. and I did walk little bits (though in no way stuck to a regime). SORTED!!!

Must not get complacent now though. Noooo. So out again tomorrow morning. And now, I want to get it down to an hour...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PS. Thanks to everyone who's sponsored me, I'm REALLY grateful - please don't hold back if you haven't got round to it yet though. Every Little Helps (the smaller man's mantra...)

xxx

day whatever it is now - and look, i can blog from my blackberry!

I'm easily pleased. Bless.

So as election-fever grips the country, I know all my devoted readers (that's all three or so of you!) Are far more interested in my legs than those of any party leader (though I hear that Clegg is quite a catch - I digress...)

I have a confession. Forgive me fanclub, for I have sinned. Until this evening, I had not been out running since that 10min extravaganza. Maybe I had a "quit while I'm ahead" feeling, or more likely, I was just too damn lazy.
Either way, I was a Bad Pops. Sorry! I did however spend a good few hours power walking around Newcastle delivering flyers for an unnamed political party, so that is some exercise at least. Hurrah.

Today however, that changed. After lectures, I went home, and with lots of nagging and persuasion from Emily, gave it another shot.

My final aim is to run this thing 20mins on, 10mins walking. I wasn't expecting to hit 20mins pretty comfortably so soon. No really. And I didn't fall over or bribe a passing husky family to drag me.

You may cheer now. Go on, no-one's listening. Promise.

So now I have a dilemma. Do I aim to get that to 30 mins? Or stick with the original plan?
It's a tricky one.

Answers on a postcard please. And while you're there, answer this - my metro has been 'arriving in 2 mins' for the last 20mins. How does that even begin to work?!

Xxxx