The long road home

I might've mentioned this before, but the whole marathon training thing is really starting to hurt now.

I went out for a 45-minute session this morning during which I was supposed to run three individual miles as hard as I could with three-minute jogs in between. The problem was, every time I attempted to up my pace my legs looked up at me and whispered, "Barry - go away." (Thankfully my legs are very polite).

This Sunday is the big one in terms of training, three hours or about 20 miles in one go.

Funnily enough I've been looking forward to it for two reasons. First, things get easier after this as I move into what the experts call the "tapering" stage. Next week's training is only half the distance I covered this week, the week after half as much again. I only have to go out twice in the last seven days with rest and pasta (bleugh!) taking priority.

Second, I get to run around the North Antrim Coast - Vanessa and I are heading back to Coleraine tomorrow until Tuesday. If there is a more beautiful sight in the world on a sunny day than the road from the White Rocks beach in Portrush to Bushmills then I haven't seen it. Unfortunately, the forecast is for anything but sun although I remain optimistic I won't die of exposure. Not certain, but certainly optimistic.

Whilst home, I also expect to pick up a fair bit of cash raised by family members and friends who have also been working very hard to help Sebastian and I in our endeavours.

And then, of course, there's Sebastian himself. Although I've spoken to him countless times over the last few weeks, I haven't seen him since New Year's Day.

He told me the other night the first thing he'd do when I walked in after my run on Sunday was punch me in the stomach. Hmmm.

So long as he doesn't punch me on my legs, I don't really mind. Much.

Have fun 'til Tuesday.