Max’s Marathon WEEK 4: In which not much good happens (until I reach £500 in sponsorship, WHICH IS BRILLIANT)

This is pretty much a week I want to forget about except for these five rather nice things…

  • My chuck-everything-in-and-hope-to-drown-in-it comforting risotto. Yes, you’re allowed to put parmesan and cheddar into a risotto together. Nigella says so. And I’d do it if it carried a prison sentence because it is THAT GOOD. HONESTLY. I’ve become one of those people who almost exclusively Instagrams their dinner. Sorry about that…
  • On Saturday night I had a most wonderful night’s sleep and was awake at 6:45 chomping at the bit for my Sunday long run (the long runs are still pretty comfortable – 6-8 miles. They get to half Marathon length in the next 3-4 weeks and then the really bonkers-long ones are in March). I waited until it was properly light just after 8 to set off. It was raining and my legs forgot they were supposed to be running for the first 45 minutes and needed a slug of Lucozade and some good tunes to remind them. But I was still finished by 10, in good time for a nice breakfast and to pretend to care about the Sunday Politics while shivering in a fleece and jumper with wet feet and an extra heater on.
For those who've said, incredulously, "You always look so GOOD after a run...!"
For those who’ve said, incredulously, “You always look so GOOD after a run…!”
  • Eliza Doolittle’s Mr Medicine. Between a difficult meeting and a difficult phone call (see below) I dived into a pub and asked for a drink just so I could use the loo (I know…). “I’d like a drink,” I said to the barman. “A soft drink,” I quickly clarified, aware that I probably looked anxious enough to be wanting booze at midday on a Monday. As he ran through some suggestions as to what I might like to order as though I was a confused child, this sweet little song was playing. I couldn’t work out what she was singing at first and didn’t think to use Shazam (hardly surprising when I could barely think to order an orange juice). Luckily I’d remembered enough lyrics to Google later and add it to my running playlist.
  • A remark made to me by a close friend of my late friend in the phone chat she very kindly agreed to have with me despite being a complete stranger. I hesitate to do this because she seemed quite a private person and quoting private conversations without permission is generally an iffy thing to do. But, I will, without names or identifying deets because I think it’s beautifully-put, and helpful to anyone. We were talking about his history of depression, and my own, and I repeated an analogy I’ve used elsewhere a couple of times, about he and another friend taking their lives: “I feel like I’m in a terrible video game and they’re at the level above and I’m trying to understand how they got there…” “I beg to differ,” she said politely-but-firmly. “He pressed the self-destruct button and left the game. You’re still playing. And you have to keep playing.” What a lovely thing to say. Her comments were, I think, some of the most insightful and on-the-nail I’ve ever heard about depression from someone who (as far as I know) doesn’t live with it. Afterwards I told her a couple of things about him that were relevant to our shared connections and that I thought she and other mutual friends might be interested to know. And I gave her the link to this blog. I doubt she’ll ever read it but hello if you are…
  • I’VE NOW REACHED OVER £500 IN SPONSORSHIP of my £1,750 minimum target. That’s £500 raised for Mind in the first month. THANK YOU to my wonderful sponsors, especially my mum and dad (currently in Asia), and an old friend from school who’s recently become a mummy for the second time. She suggested we meet for coffee once she’s sufficiently recovered from the trauma of the birth. I told her that running a Marathon might be the closest I get to the trauma of giving birth. Many a true remark made in jest. Although I like kids, I’m inclined to see the fact that I only ever experience any kind of mutual attraction under the wrong circumstances, and that so many people in my life have had depression as the universe’s politer way of saying “Look, petal, don’t be silly, just concentrate on being the best mental health campaigner you can be and forget about relationships or having babies. The world’s a much better place for it.This probably needs a much longer blog post than I have the time or inclination for right now. If you’d like to sponsor me and help me raise even more, please do.

The next week of my training plan is a lighter week (to adapt to my training). I hope it’s lighter in lots of other ways besides…



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