Quelle cliché : life’s a marathon.

VLM2015Today the annual London Marathon is held and thousands of runners are lining up as I type. The publicity, the PR set off in me a sense of excitement: only a year ago, I was prepping to run marathon in Edinburgh and the runners vibe brings back the adrenaline. Not that I would be able to run one now, mind: yesterday, I struggled through my first 5K in a long while. The first run, after six weeks if not two months, when I pushed myself to run a hilly 10K just under an hour… by 12 seconds. Haha, it doesn’t matter. Like writing, running is something I enjoy going back to. (Yet perhaps like running, I would get better or more practised at writing if I made time for it more often. Now there is a thought for Sunday morning.)

Source: Twitter - hard to track, sorry.
Source: Twitter – hard to track, sorry.

Despite the buzz and despite a very tempting offer to accompany the boy on his job photographing charity runners this morning at 8am, I have decided to join the crowds later for the very last bit and cheer them on to the finish line. That moment is magic. I have already considered going back on my ‘once and never again’ but the awful amounts of training, the Chris Hoy thighs (ok, perhaps not quite) and the unsexy moments half-dressed in an ice-cold bath eating a protein bar, do flash back and dissolve that nostalgia once more. For now. (What is wrong with 10Ks? Half marathons?)

The marathon was an amazing experience, a transcending one almost; I now tackle all life’s challenges as a metaphorical run. The discomfort, and there is discomfort when you are schlepping across 26.2 mile, proves to be only temporary and the euphoria of the finish line is worth every effort. I have felt the physical equivalent of  ‘this too shall pass’ and as I am wading once again through a foggy patch, at 3-0 I know it will all work out ok. Good luck to each runner: enjoy the ride, I’ll be cheering each and every one of you!

30 1/3

Six months ago, I wrote my last blog entry and since then I have entered another decade. So here I stand before you: 30 1/3 years old.

My very first note, aptly titled First Note, is dated October 2008 when I was 23. Over the years, I have had flurries of writing and silences: the silences here often indicate activity in life. This time it is not much different with a new decade, a boy, a theatre company, a paid job, ups, downs: the whole rollercoaster ride. In fact, not dissimilar to seven years ago and if  was I waiting for adulthood to pour upon me then, I have come to realise that this must be it. There is no other level. No secret door, no certificates, no ceremony. Dang!

One day it’s just here and it doesn’t feel like it should be it: yet suddenly you realise that the ones you perceive as adults are bumbling about in similar fashion to oneself. Hallelujah, you made it, just try not to be underwhelmed by it: you are like everyone else. Going through the same motions ( even if they are personalised and tweaked to suit people’s lifestyles) and asking ourselves the same questions (even if the timing of the questions can differ).

A new decade comes with new expectations, new dreams and new challenges. After adjusting to so many new things, I have finally come back up for air. Juggling all the have-to’s, must-do’s, should have’s and want’s, I had forgotten that I like to write and I am back to rekindle the love.