Slam it to the left

19 weeks to go (16 December)

In preparation for a late contender for campest weekend of 2012 I frontload my week’s running, notching up 21km before work on Monday (which I hope belatedly explains my mood that day to my colleagues) and getting an impressive 31km under my belt before 10am Saturday morning.  Impressive to me, anyway.  I’m sure you don’t give a shit.

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It’s a gorgeous run, too, one that restores your faith in everything.  I start off towards Dulwich to check out their Christmas market then carry on to the Horniman museum, then further south to Crystal Palace.  I marvel at dinosaurs there for far longer than is appropriate for a 30-year old then head out to Croydon to escape London for a bit.  Croydon is an absolute hole, like a less charming Coventry, and I struggle in vain to find something laudable to photograph.  I settle on a picture of one of their bins: It kind of cute that they brand them, I guess.

The final leg home is a killer as I forget about the existence of Streatham’s Hill and I hit the dreaded ‘wall’ for the first time, manically contemplating getting a bus for the final hundred yards and conjuring up all my remaining willpower to keep going even as I turn onto my road.  Once safely inside my satisfaction lasts all of thirty seconds before I throw up into the kitchen sink, void my bowels messily and curl up in bed with agonising cramp [Lesson seven: Hide an ensuite bathroom by the finish line].  I wake up an hour or so later to find my leg pulsating bizarrely, like a deleted scene from Aliens, and drag myself out reluctantly for festive fun and games.  After making an oversize Crunchie bar for a Secret Santa gift, incidentally.  1.6 kilos of chocolate.

And so healthy-d up for the day I head to Oxford Street for truffles, rosé and Viva Forever.  Yes, the Spice Girls’ musical.  It is as absolutely dreadful as you’d expect and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone.  There’s more plot in a bag of Discos. 

Haagan-Dazz, Minstrels, half an oversize Crunchie and Chinatown complete the rout to undo all the morning’s work but do I look bothered?  I ran three-quarters of a marathon this morning, bitch.