Missing The Brighton Half Marathon 2014 And Running My Own Half Around Greenwich And East London.
So I missed yet another half marathon.
This time it wasn’t from being hungover. It was from incompetence. I didn’t check what time the trains left until I got back to my flat at 11pm Saturday.
The only one that would get me to Brighton on time for the race left Clapham Junction at 6:30am. This would have been OK if the flat I was staying in at the time wasn’t well over a mile away from Wimbledon Station and I didn’t have my rucksack with me.
No to a 4am start.
I’d have had to start packing at 4am to make the race. It just wasn’t doable. I’ve maybe been putting myself under a little too much pressure recently with the 100km, the Indiegogo campaign and the blog.
My sanity comes first before any of this shit.
Still, I’m worried that I’m starting to gain a reputation of being the Pete Doherty of half-marathons in that I’m absolutely poor at what I do and I still don’t show up for most of the races.
Today hasn’t been the best of days.
I left my flat at 11am carrying my fucking rucksack. It weighed an absolute ton. It had all of my current worldly belongings in it.
I set out towards my new lodgings which are in the Greenwich area of London. I was on a downer from the start with missing the race.
To make matters worse a mother holding her child in her arms sat next to me on the Tube at Fulham Broadway and the kid immediately started slapping at my head.
I wanted to say “aw fuck love could you please give him some Guinness to calm him down a little?” but she was Spanish and therefore not aware of Irish porridge.
I got up and left 3 stations too early to escape the situation.
I finally got to Canary Wharf and tried to board the train opposite the one I was previously on. I stepped on and quickly realized that it was going to the station I was just at.
I panicked, tried jumping off the train but got my head closed in the doors just as it was closing. I glanced around the carriage and everyone was staring at me. I wanted to shout “what are you fucking looking at you bunch of cunts?” but instead I let out a half assed “WOOF!” at them.
I’d already lost all of my dignity and my nerves were shot from all of the sadness from missing the Brighton race.
No one batted an eyelid. This town is used to imbeciles like me who are incandescent with rage from getting their heads lodged in train doors.
I think it was my comeuppance for pissing myself laughing at a woman who got both her head and suitcase trapped at Fulham on Thursday. I couldn’t help myself as it was really fucking funny.
She showed true grit in her leap for glory, but unfortunately the train told her “No.”
A true British hero and a candidate for the “Pride Of Britain” awards.
Running my own half marathon
I checked into my new place in Greenwich at about 2pm and immediately set out on a run around town. I had absolutely no idea about where I was going so just followed an out and back course on a main road towards London Bridge.
The run wasn’t great as the pavements were loaded with shoppers and I didn’t want to have to bark at anyone else.
Thankfully the weather was a lot better than in my few runs through Wimbledon.
My aim for the run was to try to find my way around the local area and bring my weekly mileage tally up to 30 miles.
Tragedy struck at mile 12 as the sun set. I tripped over uneven pavement and landed on my arm. I went down very hard and had cuts all down my arm and right leg.
A group of kids saw and most importantly heard me go down. Most of them laughed and one little dickhead yelled “BOOF!” which was a very accurate depiction of my fall.
I jumped right up, laughed it off like it was all a big joke and then crawled the rest of the 1.1 miles in agony. By now it was pitch dark and I just wanted it to finish.
I completed the run in 2:17 which is 10 minutes slower than my Brighton time in 2013. I wanted to run further than the 13 miles but I was really disheartened from tripping so I just stopped then.
Morale of today, I’m glad I keep continuing!
I’m quite happy that I continued. Missing races for me is a real fucking low point and I always feel like I’ve let myself down afterward.
But you know what? I’ve missed plenty of races in the past and I’ve always come back stronger. All I need to do is to keep getting up every time I’m down.
It’s really that easy.