My commute-via-bicycle takes around an hour. It’s about fifteen minutes longer that the tube would take, but I am much happier. I always feel sick on the tube during peak-hour (read: all the time on the Picadilly line!) and I just can’t stand being that close to other people who have no choice but to encroach on my space, and I on theirs. I like being out in the fresh air and I like thinking that I’m doing something active and good for me instead of sitting in a metal tube breathing over-recycled air. Yuck. When it gets tough I think the same two things that gets me though the hard runs: 1. when I’m running over dunes in the Sahara this will seem easy and 2. every step/pedal makes me stronger.
As much as I love riding my bike it will never be my first love. And I know this because when I’m on my bike and I see people running I wish I was running. Not wish as desperately as when I am, say, on the bus, but enough to know that I want to be running.
And so that’s how I became obsessed with entering a marathon. Tonight. Right now. Because I saw a whole lot of people running about fifteen minutes into my ride home and I spent the next forty-five minutes thinking about running.
It’s not like this was any kind of radical notion. I knew I was going to enter a marathon, and I was already aiming for March or April next year. I entered the London Marathon ballot and, of course, missed out. Then, the ‘back up’ plan of Brighton was moot because it was sold out before ballot places for VLM were announced. So now, I’m looking at others.
On the (current) list of possibilities I have Vienna (at the top!), Rome, Paris, Jerusalem.
I’m so psyched for my 20km training run tomorrow now. It’s a weird feeing, to be so excited about something like that. But I am. Which is why I have to go to bed.