I’m going to hazard a guess that you didn’t think you’d read a blog about jogging and rude words and genitals today. Well I didn’t think I’d write one either, but you never know when the wind will turn and your path is set.
Last September, I ran (against all expectations) in the Purbeck 16, a very hilly and truly stunning race. This Churchillian task was a really achievement for me, not least because my darling Brother very kindly offered to help with pace-setting, and both he and I successfully made it through alive.
As my first foray into long distance, I felt cast adrift, panicked, unprepared. He however had just been on 8 weeks intense military training, so one could say he was over-prepared. Just the kind of pace setter one wants for one’s first long distance attempt. He DID NOT BREAK A SWEAT. (And I’ve completely got over that. *Harrumph*)
This story needs one thing about Family-F. When I was mid-childhood, we had a points based system. Profanity would reduce ones’ daily score. I’m going to simply desiccate my today’s score by explaining that the likes of ‘ratbag‘, ‘dipstick‘ and and ‘plug it’ (thanks indeed to Dearest Mummy’s time inside) were unforgivable. 9,8,7,6…The boys considered scores of 1 or 2, or even negative to be a badge of honour. Goody-two-shoes here did her very best to stay at 10.
Post-blog-note: point of clarification. All time spent ‘inside’ was indeed voluntary and she could come and go however she liked, even with her own keys. Does this get me out of trouble, Mummy…?
So can you imagine how far sideways Darling Brother jumped when at Mile 14ish around the Purbeck 16, I told both him and the truly innocent tourists ahead (who were blocking my way but still 100m ahead!!) to ‘P*SS OFF’. Out loud, apparently with quite a bit of feeling even.
Can you imagine what will happen past mile 14 on the marathon????
But I’ve been thinking. I’m going to use my motivation to help me drive forward. So I’ve been thinking up theme-appropriate exclamations. Oh-Lordy-Ladybits, the Profanitised-Privates, the Jolly-Old-Genitals. I’ve a few others, but rhyming is important.
The need to help protect and maintain female genitals intact and as intended truly runs deep if it’s getting into my post-mile-14 vocabulary. Thankfully, the Divinity Foundation will take anything you can sponsor and turn it into amazing projects, as they help girls who are running away from FGM. That’s why I’m jogging myself around the 26.2 miles, and that’s why I’m expecting to have a negative profanity point score on 9 April 2017.
I apologise in advance to anyone running close by from that mile 14 onwards. I shan’t carry a beeper; cover your ears.
Turning slightly more serious for a moment, I was honoured to take part in a World Health Organisation conference about FGM. I solemnly promise I did not use any of the above terminology and (if it weren’t for this blog) my score would still be ten. And I fitted in a 5 mile jaunt around Sheffield this morning pre-breakfast, with a carefully considered route avoiding some dreadfully steep hills. With thanks to Simon for the route tips!
Strava Miles this week (partial week, not including a long run): 14.2
Strava Miles to date this year: 226
Time to big day: a truly terrifying 3 weeks, 3 days!
Brighton Marathon, 9 April 2017