I'm shining for shit and giggles
or How not to do a marathon, part 1
When I signed up to walk 26 miles a month ago the theory was; I walk nearly 30 miles a week anyway, it's not going to be that difficult to do it all in one go. Right?
I was wrong.
The pack they sent me suggested I might want to get in a bit of training before the event. Okay then, no problem with that. Set off for work a couple of hours early, 9 miles, 2 and a half hours, a third of the way already and barely even broken into a sweat. 3 miles home after work. Nearly halfway. Who needs training?
Anyway, I decided to go on another walk, nothing wrong with being prepared. Plus, I like walking. And I really needed to get out of the house for a bit before I murdered my entire family! Hours and hours later, re-approaching the outskirts of Scunthorpe aching somewhat, and feeling completely exhausted I decided I didn't particularly want to walk any further. Or, in fact, wasn't particularly convinced I could walk any further. But I slowly made the remaining few miles home, mainly because I didn't have an awful lot of choice. Only to discover that, including extra wandering due to getting lost, I can't have done any more than 15 miles.
In hindsight, I think I should be aware that 15 miles is about my limit already. And, deciding that trying to make 16 the next week, and 17 the week after wasn't going to make an awful lot of difference (and not wanting to put myself through any more pain than necessary), I figured; Fuck it, I'll do it on the night...
When I signed up to walk 26 miles a month ago the theory was; I walk nearly 30 miles a week anyway, it's not going to be that difficult to do it all in one go. Right?
I was wrong.
The pack they sent me suggested I might want to get in a bit of training before the event. Okay then, no problem with that. Set off for work a couple of hours early, 9 miles, 2 and a half hours, a third of the way already and barely even broken into a sweat. 3 miles home after work. Nearly halfway. Who needs training?
Anyway, I decided to go on another walk, nothing wrong with being prepared. Plus, I like walking. And I really needed to get out of the house for a bit before I murdered my entire family! Hours and hours later, re-approaching the outskirts of Scunthorpe aching somewhat, and feeling completely exhausted I decided I didn't particularly want to walk any further. Or, in fact, wasn't particularly convinced I could walk any further. But I slowly made the remaining few miles home, mainly because I didn't have an awful lot of choice. Only to discover that, including extra wandering due to getting lost, I can't have done any more than 15 miles.
In hindsight, I think I should be aware that 15 miles is about my limit already. And, deciding that trying to make 16 the next week, and 17 the week after wasn't going to make an awful lot of difference (and not wanting to put myself through any more pain than necessary), I figured; Fuck it, I'll do it on the night...