Leered at, cheered at, spat on and propositioned

It’s a Saturday night in April, my friends are all out having fun. Yet here I am, sat in bed with a cooling eye mask strapped to my knees, eating more potatoes and brown rice than I could shake a stick at, wondering what on earth possessed me to sign up to the Brighton Marathon…

Over the last five months I've been leered at, cheered at, spat on (yes, spat on) and propositioned. I've had Peckham youths run after me in jest on dark winter evenings (not funny!), an old man shout out “go on girl, best thing for ya!”, dogs out on walks run alongside me, but best of all, as the weather takes a turn for the worse, I've received knowing smiles from other runners. We are all in this together, we are all completely bonkers – we are all ‘marathoners’.

The idea came from Katie, one of my dearest Primary School friends. A blonde bombshell who, despite four children, four cats and two rabbits, was determined to run a marathon. ‘This is it’, I thought, ‘if she can do it, I certainly can!’ I started sounding the idea out with my circle of friends, and to my surprise a little team emerged; Pabs the Bristolian ping pong champion, Duncan the carpenter, Tom who loves a challenge, and Geraldine the rock and roll student. Sadly poor Katie had to defer her place after a hideous chest infection left her unable to train over the winter (but we'll be at the finish line cheering you on next year Katie, there’s no getting out of this one!)

I started out in November by joining in with a local regular free run and jogging 5k every Saturday morning with my friend Ben, an experienced marathoner. I look back on those icy mornings with fondness; through bleary festive season hangovers we religiously made it to Brockwell Park, and he’d coach me through a 30 minute jog. Now I understand Ben’s amusement at my grumblings - he knew what was to come! I’d barely even scratched the surface.

Since then I’ve been following a training schedule with two or three short runs in the week and a longer run at the weekend. Cut to two weeks ago, and I completed my final long run before race day, which was 20 miles...yes you heard me TWENTY MILES! Running from Peckham up to the river, along to Battersea Park and back again. In the snow and wind. Seriously, if there was a montage to be made of my training efforts, this would have made the final cut! I am officially ‘hardcore’.

The training, which started out as a pleasant way to spend a few hours each week, became all consuming. Especially more recently when I was clocking up to 35 miles per week. And the biggest surprise? I've absolutely loved it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fitness freak. I detest the gym. I love a drink. I’m even partial to the odd cigarette. But still, this is without a doubt one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt so alive throughout a winter. Everyone else around me moans about the cold and the dark, but early on I learnt a little phrase that’s kept me going: “…but it doesn’t matter.” It’s my new mantra. ‘It’s cold and wet outside!’ my reason tells me, ‘but it doesn’t matter’ I reply, and pull on my trainers. ‘It’s minus 2 degrees out there! And you’ve had such a long hard day at work – sit down and eat some chocolate!’ it screams. ‘But it doesn’t matter’, I respond, and off I trot into the evening for a cheeky five miler before dinner. That lovely little phrase has come to inhabit a few other corners of my world, and it’s working wonders.

Running a marathon is about clocking up hours and miles on the road, but getting your body there is less than 50% of the battle. It’s your mind that needs to win out. It takes a certain kind of commitment (call it madness if you will) to get home on a cold wet Monday night, after a long day at work, pull your trainers on AGAIN and run eight miles. To keep going when everything aches. To run up and down that hill just one more time. It's a mindset. Whatever you believe in, it is simply a mindset. Call yourself an activist, an environmentalist, a supporter, or merely an interested observer – we all believe. Believe that it’s not too late, believe in people, believe in ourselves and the world around us, believe we can make a difference. It’s an awe-inspiring feeling.

So now Brighton beckons. I've got a handful of training runs left until the big day on 14 April. I’m terrified, I’m excited, I’m dreading it and I can’t wait. But best of all, I believe in myself. I believe in my mates. I know we’re all going to do it.

So if you are sitting there thinking about trying your first 5k, climbing a mountain, jumping out of a plane or even training for a full marathon, do yourself the biggest favour you possibly could, get off the sofa, believe in yourself and DO IT! And if you want to get sponsored to do it for a cause you’re passionate about, even better. Alternatively - sponsor me!