Marathon Training Diary: Sometimes training for a marathon sucks

I'm working on a post on my 2016 goals, but if you've been reading my blog at all over the last few months you'll know I'm currently training for my first marathon. I've found recently that I want to talk, or more vent, a lot more about the training process, so I'm going to start blogging a marathon training diary over the next few months.

It's barely 7am - my alarm went off at 6.30am - on my last Sunday off before going back to work after Christmas.
It's pitch black outside.
And I do not want to run 12 miles this morning.

I woke up stupidly early not because I have plans today, but purely because I know how much I will resent running if I let it eat into any more of my day.
My training pace is not very fast, so despite being able to run a half marathon in 2 hours 8, 12 miles is likely to take me about two and a half hours, with a warm up and cool down.

Which means even going out at 7.30am means I won't be home til 10.
Then there's the stretching and the shower and the getting dressed.
And the exhaustion.
Oh the exhaustion.

Over the last few weeks I've spent every Sunday in a post-run zombie-like state, where at any point my entire body might seize up and I will be weak as a kitten.
It's about as fun as it sounds.

And it's even worse today. The last day of my holiday after 11 days off, when the Sunday-night-syndrome kicked in for both Phil and I at approximately 6pm last night. I don't know yet if I want to spend my last day doing nothing or doing everything. But I don't think the latter will be an option.

I regret signing up for this marathon at least three times a week. When my alarm goes off at 5.30am for a six mile run before work. When I'm tired and achey and hungry all day and know I have the exact same routine for the next three days.

And some days, like today, I lose sight of why I'm doing this.
Why did I sign up?
Apart from the vanity reason - the same reason I read War and Peace - so I could say I've done it, doesn't really mean anything to you on a dark, cold, January morning.
I've lost count recently of the number of people who have told me "oh I want to run a marathon." And I come home and vent because it's always the people who don't do any exercise to start with. People who have no idea the miles involved. The training. The tiredness. People who want the glory without the work.

Right now the only reason I have for doing this is that it's really, really, really hard. 
And like my dad says "if it was easy everyone would be doing it."
And I get it. I get that people watch the London Marathon and they are inspired and they want that glory and that medal and that achievement.
But they don't see the blood, the sweat, the tears. The hours of running every week. The cancelled social plans. The early nights. The exhaustion.
And right now I can't see the light yet.

I know I'll get there. 
While I don't think there will ever be a day I'll jump out of bed on a Sunday for my 12+ mile run, I do enjoy being out there and more than anything I do love to run.
And I trust my training and I know I have to do it and I know the reason it's hard is because this is a big thing! Not everyone can do this.

It's nearly 7.30am now. Still pitch black outside. But I know I have to go.
Because this is what I wanted. And it will all be worth it.


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