A word has been bandied round the online running community this past few weeks, one that resonates with me to my very core – MARANOIA.
Urban Dictionary reckons it’s to do with weed but we all know it’s actually all to do with the big 26.2 – that terrifying combination of miles that we’ve all spent months training for. I’ve taken the liberty of amending the UD definition:
(noun) 1. A state of paranoia of abject failure while under the influence of marathon training.
“Tess became consumed by maranoia as the weeks drew closer to the marathon.”
I’m not a negative person but for the past few weeks, maranoia has got hold of me big time – basically since the epic, and wonderful, and couldn’t-have-gone-better Brighton Half Marathon. Everything above 13.1miles has been unchartered territory. And it bloody hurts.
The midweek run sessions are getting done (with a little added twist to make it more interesting) and so are the core classes and yoga, (Dynamic Hot Yoga, I heart you), but the long runs are getting longer, and it’s these that have been the hardest for me recently as my body gets used to pushing into new distances.
Manoeuvringstairs is like an episode of the Crystal Maze, especially on Mondays after the long run. On the (very) few occasions I make it to and from the kitchen at work like a normal human being I think about playing my very own fanfare through the building’s speakers to celebrate.
Shut up legs
But you know what? Despite all the pain, and all the doubt I’ve allowed to creep in, and all of the occasions during runs when I’ve questioned my sanity and reasons for doing this, and all of the times that I’ve put my head in my hands and whined to people when they ask how training’s going or how far away it is, I’m still so stupidly excited (and utterly shitting it) for the big day to come.
When I started training I didn’t think I’d make it this far, and neither did a few people close to me, mainly because of my knees and the state they were in after the Running Show 10k. But I was always going to give it my best shot.
I’ve changed my running gait, am going to physio, getting regular sports massages, bought new trainers/foam roller/compression gear/running socks, trying to (mostly) eat right, hitting the sessions when the knees allow, resting hard when they don’t, cross training like a mofo and am working on strength and conditioning exercises in between.
However long it takes on the day, I’ve got this.
|The marathon kit is ready!|
My last long run is tomorrow – I’m attempting 18miles – then it’s the taper. This will be the furthest I’ve ever ran. Last week I ran 16miles, and although it wasn’t pretty at the end and we had to do a few haphazard laps of the field next to the carpark to make it up to 16, I was/am/will always be so proud of my chunky lil legs for carrying me that far.
My Mind vest came today.* My race number was emailed to me yesterday – 14796. Brighton Marathon is bloody happening.
I won’t be the fastest and may not be at my strongest but I will get to that start line and I will run this marathon.
I will get that medal, and I’ll most definitely cry when I do.
And I can’t bloody wait!!! 😀 😀 😀 😀
*I’m also fundraising for Cancer Research but am wearing the Mind vest. If you want to sponsor me visit my page and throw me some monies!! x