It's Friday evening and, as is often the case on a Friday evening, I'm sitting here enjoying a glass of wine at the end of a long hard week. I won't be drinking wine this time next Friday. It will only be 5 hours until the start of The Race. If past experience is anything to go by, I'll be pacing about nervously, wondering if I had enough sleep, whether I have eaten enough food, and whether I have packed the right kit.
Why do we put ourselves through it? It's a difficult thing to explain to people who don't run. In a funny sort of way I actually enjoy the feeling of panic that sets in a few hours before a race like the WHW. I would miss it hugely if I wasn't taking part. I also believe, without getting too analytical about it, that it helps you cope with the ups and downs we all face in our every day lives.
Last night I was sick. I suspect it was because of something I ate. At 8pm I felt fine. From 9pm till about 11pm I spent most of the time over a toilet. The pain in my stomach started to go away about midnight. This morning I felt ok again, if a little washed out. My only thought? Thank goodness it happened this week, not next week.
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