As I’m now pushing 50, this has involved a great deal of pain in just about every joint, not to mention every tendon I’ve ever torn and every rib I’ve ever cracked.
Naturally, there’s nothing else for it but to carry on regardless, and hope that my chocolate ankle, marzipan knee and peanut-brittle lower back will eventually get with the programme; particularly as help and sympathy have been in pretty short supply from those around me. And not just from my long-suffering Good Lady Wife either: even my sainted physio has told me, and I quote, to “man up and take some painkillers.”
And there you have it. Many years and many injuries later, the received wisdom of the ages is that biggish guys who are pushing 50 shouldn’t expect to train pain-free for marathons, and should instead turn to their only real friends in the world: Ibuprofen and Advil.
So as the sun sets over the beach, I’m about to lumber off into the night again, doped to the eyeballs and with that great BB King classic blasting in my ears. Nope, it isn’t ‘Into The Night'; it’s my other favourite BB track: ‘Nobody Loves Me But My Mother (And She Could Be Jiving Me Too).’
On the upside, however, my physio assures me that nothing major has gone wrong with the chocolate ankle, and she expects me to reach both the start and finish line in Edinburgh, God willing. So if there’s anyone out there who can spare a couple of quid for the wonderful Help The Hospices charity, I’d be eternally grateful if you could do so at my JustGiving page, where I’m hoping to raise at least £1,000.
And if you were minded to share this link with any generous corporate sponsors/suppliers of highly cushioned running shoes, that would also be great…