A 9 Mile Walk Around Some Of The Bleakest Areas In London.
Well it’s another Sunday and another move. This time I’m up to Camden for the week.
Moving doesn’t worry me anymore but it is having a serious impact on my running. I kinda need to establish myself in a place so that I know the routes. I can’t just go outside and run anywhere especially in London since the roads are fucking dangerous.
I think it’s time for another house share. The good news is that I might be moving back up to Tottenham again. I want this fucking madness to be over.
I’ve not been as lazy as I could have been this week.
To try to make up for my recent laziness I walked to Camden from Greenwich which is usually about 6 or 7 miles but I accidentally made it 9 with a detour through South Bermondsey.
I know little about Bermondsey other than the guy who gave me my first ever beating supported Millwall and they are based there.
The place is fucking terrifying in reality. I stopped by the Iceland store for some strip cheese and the queue was filled with the walking dead. It’s normal to feel absolutely hopless on a Sunday morning, but I swear I could actually see people aging and dying before my eyes.
The only shops on the high street included a school, banks, a funeral parlour and a betting shop.
The cycle of life.
No escape. Belfast has nothing on Bermondsey. Apparently we’re in the middle of an economic upturn but Bermondsey looks like it’s still suffering from the last 5 recessions.
To compound matters, I couldn’t check into my accomodation once I got to Camden as I left my passport in my lockup in Vauxhall.
Arghhhh. That’s 3 times in a week I’ve been to Vauxhall. No man on earth deserves that fate (apart from Morrissey).
A head that won’t shut the fuck up.
I think it took me over 3 hours to walk 9 miles but the whole journey was fucking miserable.
I’m just not coping well with the prospect of the 100k. I’ve always known that I’m slightly weak but the last month has taken it out of me mentally.
Everytime I find happiness my brain chips in with “well you shouldn’t be happy as you’ve been one unhealthy cunt since you’ve moved here and your training is barely adequate for a marathon let alone a 100k”.
I know that negative thinking is deterimental to my health. I think that I’m a rational person but sometimes just knowing that it’s deterimental isn’t enough.
Some days it’s almost impossible to shake it off.
The only way to beat it is to get back to living day by day and trying to move into the next morning in a better position than I was in the previous morning.
I’m living in a perpetural state of panic about the race and I keep resorting to comfort foods to calm down. It all feeds into a vicious cycle which is fucking my head up.
That’s why I’m running the 100k without a Garmin. I want to just get to Brighton in one piece. I feel guilty that I’ve been taking you all along on my journey here and I’ve kinda fucked it up.
But it is how it is.
Shaking off the misery.
The end of the night was a riproaring success. I went to Sainsbury’s for supper and paid for a packet of Cadbury’s Giant Buttons with 64 penny coins in a Sainsbury’s self checkout machine.
“Have you swiped your Nectar Card?”
“Have I fuck you robotic cunt!”
For the first time in a week I felt a little peace as I walked around Regent’s Park and just watched the runners going by whilst I ate Cadbury’s Giant Buttons.