Got my chip on my trainers
Got my number on my t-shirt
Got a gin and tonic.
I know it’s not exactly orthodox, but my legs are shaking so much that I need to steady my nerves. After that I’ll go back on the Lucozade Sport and the water. I promise.
Waiting in the bar of the hotel (which is even more gorgeous than the photos promised) for Zoe to arrive. This evening we’re going to eat pasta, watch television and be lazy.
I saw the BBC advert for the marathon earlier and it suddenly hit me. Tomorrow I’m fulfilling one of my ambitions and running in the London Marathon. I can’t quite believe it.
Just to remind you, you can follow our progress here:
Just put in my race number which is 40031. Run the marathon with me from the comfort of your couch.
Come to think of it, why don’t you run the marathon for me and I’ll go and sit on your couch?
Carbs carbs carbs. That’s pretty much today summed up. The Atkins diet has never seemed so appealing. Pancakes for breakfast, pasta for lunch, jellybeans for snacks, bananas, rice, water, water, water. It sounds more fun than it is. I feel like a beachball.
I still haven’t finished sorting out my playlist – not sure how much music I’ll listen to, but I don’t want to spend 6 million hours listening to the ‘oh no, I thought I’d deleted that’ songs on my iPhone.
I’ve just reposted this post on Twitter. If you want me to add the name of someone you loved to my list, let me know. 26 miles is a long way, but when you break it down into 26 separate miles, each run in somebody’s memory, it doesn’t seem so difficult.
I should be in bed. More tomorrow.
When I started writing this post it was called 5 days to go. Someone stole two days of my life when I wasn’t looking, and now it’s Thursday.
I went to the Expo to collect my marathon number yesterday.
London was beautiful in the sunshine, and the DLR train to ExCel was full of excitement – I think most people were going to the Expo. I saw some of the roads we’ll be running on in three days. Eek.
Zoe and I both felt like frauds. The rest of the people there looked like proper runners. Then I remembered Eleanor Roosevelt (‘nobody can make you feel inferior withouth your consent’) and the months of training we’ve done.(yes, I am trying to convince myself)
We wrote on the famous wall of fame:
Then I went back into town, met my mum, ate sushi (no children! yay!) and went for coffee (at bathtime! no children! yay!).
And then I went to the Gielgud Theatre where we saw Hair.
I didn’t really know what to expect: I knew the songs, I knew there was nakedness. What I didn’t expect was a beautiful, poignant, anti-war play which was as relevant today as it was 40 years ago.
Go and see it.
Yours carbily (pasta, anyone?)