Alea iacta est. I have registered for a full marathon. I have paid. I have told my family. I have even told the world about it, why, I keep on telling as many people as possible about it, painting myself into a smaller and smaller corner. I will run. At least I'll try. No, I'll have to run. So I'll run.
I have never even run a half marathon before. Well, except this one time I followed a ultrarunner his last 35 km before an ambulance picked him up -- but that was slow slow slow, and I ran in Fivefingers. Now I'll run barefoot, only with sports tape around my left big toe, to minimise the arthritic pain, even though it hinders movement a bit. 42 kilometers with skin to ground: my skin to ground record so far is 15 kilometers.
But I'll run. In 80 days, 21st of September, in Oslo, me and probably another barefoot guy (but he did it last year as well, he knows what he's doing) will start 0945 in the morning and hopefully -- hopefully! -- still be alive and well some 4 or 5 or 6 hours later. And hopefully we will be able to, I mean I will be able to, walk somewhat normally the following week.
I'm scared. Of course I am. Terrified. It's a full bloody marathon, for crying out loud, and I have never been close to being a runner. It's a train wreck in slow motion, in full view in the blogosphere.
But barefoot running has taught me things, first and foremost that running can be fun, and really is fun, and that I really enjoyed running all along, I just didn't realize it. And I want to pay back. To the barefoot running gods, if you like. I want to climb this once seemingly unclimbable mountain to pay hommage to the barefoot running gods.
I have pictured myself running the last kilometer. If the reality is anything close to the dream, I need no other justification.
I am ready. I'll be ready. Somehow.
Wish me luck.
A bloody marathon?!
Blog entry posted by nisto, Jul 2, 2013.
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