Running The Brighton Half Marathon 5 Weeks Too Late & Settling Down In England.
Today I managed to run the Brighton Half Marathon that I missed 5 weeks ago.
It was a shit run in all fairness as the weather turned fucking nasty halfway through but I’m delighted that I had the strength to continue on for the entire 13.1 miles especially after running 18.5 miles yesterday.
I even beat last year’s time of 2:07:07 running the 13.19 miles in 2:06.
The best part of the run was jogging up and around the hills in the city centre. I don’t particularly give a fuck about architecture or any of that shit but the centre of Brighton is beautiful.
I had the idea at mile 11 to start to run uphill as it would mean that the last mile would be downhill. The 12th mile took me 10:40 and it was the most difficult of the run.
I’m almost certain I ran past David Attenborough on that last downhill stretch. He was carrying a huge white bag and I wanted to pat him on the back and say “well done big man!” but he would have heard my Irish accent and rightly assumed I was gonna rob him.
After finishing the run I went for some chips on the Pier.
It made me realise that I love this place even if it is a filthy hippy Mecca. The next time I will be down here will be in 2 months time directly after the 100k race. Fuck knows what state I’ll be in.
But I’ll be glad to be back.
Anyway I’ve been reflecting tonight on missing the Brighton Half Marathon 5 weeks ago. Today I redeemed myself with that run and I’m gradually getting stronger again as a runner and I’m feeling more settled here on the mainland!
Here’s my UK mainland story up until this point.
I came over here with no job and maybe a month’s savings at best. It wasn’t a calculated decision. I’d just had enough one afternoon and thought “why not just catch a plane you silly dickhead!?”
So I caught the plane, spent the first week in Wimbledon and applied for jobs all day. I’d typically conduct telephone interviews in the Montagu Pyke at Charing Cross Road where I’d sit down with a pint of Old Rosie and chat on the telephone with anyone who was interested in my CV.
I couldn’t run much as I was worried about missing phone calls from recruiters. It kinda sucked but it was a necessity at the time.
Anyway in the first week I ran 36 miles including 2 runs in Wimbledon and 1 in Greenwich.
I missed the Brighton Half Marathon as I had to move out of my accommodation on the day of the race. There was no other way around it but to give the run a miss.
The next week was spent in a hostel in Greenwich. I was terrified that I was gonna wank all of my money away so the hostel was a cost saving exercise.
My hatred for my dorm mates fuelled me on and I ran 47 miles that week & I got a job offer.
Then I was off to Peckham. I started the job on Monday and ran only 8 miles. This is when I hit my lowest point. I wasn’t running, I was eating too much and I was losing interest in the 100K challenge altogether.
The main reason why I didn’t run much at all there was that I was fucking terrified of the area. There was no way in hell that I was gonna run at night time around there.
So I hit quite a low point in Peckham. A slump even.
And I’ve never worked my way out of a rut by feeling sorry for myself. That Sunday I moved to Tottenham and joined the gym at the Oval and life has been so much better since then.
I’ve settled down quite a lot in my last 3 weeks and have jogged over 50 miles every week in that time. I try to use the gym twice a week and view any exercise as a good thing.
I’ve lost about 5lbs since I’ve been here too and this is only the start of the journey.
With these 3 good weeks behind me there is no looking back. The last 6 weeks in the UK have been a sink or swim test.
And I’m swimming. Slowly. Badly. But I’m fucking swimming! And by Christ I will get better and faster (at running, not swimming).