Last Autumn I was out running on a seasonally drizzly day, a bleeding toe causing me some discomfort. It was my 1st training run in preparation for the Bath Half, something I signed up to on a whim during Olympic fever.
It hurt. I could stop, limp home and no one would ever know. But I didn't. I battled on and, believe me, I am no completer finisher!
But why....?
I had recently been given the news that my dear friend and sister in law had been diagnosed, yet again, with the Big C. I had seen her pain for a few months but the diagnosis was a shock. In her early 30s she was preparing for yet another fight but this time laughter (the medicine that kept us all sane last time) caused her real physical pain (not a twinge like a bleeding toe). How cruel!
Ever rash, bleeding toe plastered, I contacted cancer charities begging for a golden place at the 2013 London Marathon. I figured there would be no places spare (phew) and therefore grandly agreed with myself that should I get a place I would raise £10K in 2013.
November 30th I got the call. I had a place... WTF!
And so now, as 2013 is about to dawn, I am preparing to spend the next 365 days raising one million pence. Please help me...
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