This is a family blog, by and large, so I shall refrain from saying exactly what I think of being rejected by the FLM yet again. But if you’d care to help me out by thinking of the worst words you know and saying them out loud, over and over again for four or five hours, you’ll have some kind of idea of my current disposition.
I received my poly-wrapped missive of doom through the good offices of Her Majesty’s post this morning, and if I’m honest, it’s completely messed the rest of the day up. Even more so than the clutch of bills and bank statements it arrived with. And while alcohol is undoubtedly just a crutch for the weak, I’m still planning on spending the evening with my friends Ernest and Julio in a bid to soften the blow. Johnnie Walker may even pop by later on…
What exactly is it about the FLM that holds so many people in thrall, making it the one big race in the annual calendar that we all want to have a(nother) stab at? It’s big, it’s crowded, it’s expensive to get to, and it’s always, always hot; well, it is when I run it anyway. So I really shouldn’t be obsessed by tackling the mean streets of London again. But, sadly, I really am.
More salient though, now that I’ve been rejected yet again, is the question: ‘Why are the Golden Bond places now so expensive?’
God knows that I like to run for charity, even when I’ve got an unencumbered place. But with the best will in the world, I really can’t promise to raise £1,500 to £2,000, which is what all of the charities seem to need in order to cover their costs these days.
And so, with a heavy heart, and probably heavy legs for the next few weeks, it looks like I’ve got no choice but to wait another 12 months to see if the Virgin London Marathon will be any kinder than the Flora version. What are the chances of Richard Branson taking a bribe?
It’s just as well that I’ve got Hellrunner to look forward to in November. As that’s now the one and only race on my calendar, I may have to throw caution to the wind and really go for it this year.
So if you’re doing Hellrunner and you see a large bloke with a very red face plunging through the Bogs of Doom as if the devil himself was behind him, that’ll probably be me then…