On Thursday, October 1st I came home to a startling revelation:
That’s right. I got myself back into the London Marathon.
I’m fairly sure this was some sort of freak result, likely an error in the ballot system because surely this could not be mine. Flabbergasted, I took a photo of a woman dressed as a bee, posted it to Facebook, and then immediately went to bed. My assumption was I would awake and there would be a rejection magazine and some rejection article of clothing (I was looking forward to adding a rejection shirt, water bottle, or bum bag to my collection). But no, the bee was still there. She was looking at me with her eyes as if to say, “Yes, you know this is true.” That or, “I’m at mile 18 here and pretty much hallucinating! Yay! I’m a bee! London Marathon! Yay!”
And I had to accept it.
Okay, so I had to still process it for a few days.
Primarily the acceptance came from my husband, who would giggle at me whenever I looked at him. The rest from my colleagues, who looked at me like I was crazy… except for one of them who ran it last year. Upon my announcement he said, and I quote, “Congratulations! And my condolences.” Following this he patted me sympathetically on the back and pointed out he was wearing last year’s finisher shirt. “I wear this every Friday to remind me I’m awesome.”
And so, after day four of the bee still being in my house I’m saying it to the world, “I’m running London in 2016. I’m running it again. For a second time. Willingly.”
And yes, of course I’m going to fundraise. Guilt is what makes me train. I’ve got a half marathon next weekend and I’m going to run it on the wings of stupidity because by not signing up to fundraise I didn’t properly train.
You’re going to love that blog, I just know it.