In the final days of each year of uni, a couple of friends would accompany me on a run from town to the coast. The distance turns out to be almost exactly a half marathon; far from trivial but entirely doable.
Given the overwhelming absence of training throughout the year (I was spending my time trying to graduate, amongst other things), I spent the days preceding our little adventure trying to think of reasons to call the whole thing off. Thankfully, I was kept busy enough with other goings-on to not come up with anything convincing. Don’t get me wrong, I was also looking forward to it in as many ways as I was dreading it. It’s a stimulating, physical challenge with some of my best buddies, ending with a brief dip in the Channel and some hot food.
So today was the day. We ran the 20.5(ish)km in 2(ish)hours. Considering the backpack, hills, map reading, and only recent acquisition of sobriety, I think we put in a pretty good shift.
The most entertaining part of the whole trip occurred post-run and swim. On our way to get some food, we were presented with a small fence. About chest height, made of wood, and with a large gap to duck under/step over. A drunk man with three limbs and severe motor control issues could have easily overcome this literal barrier. We couldn’t.
Thanks to jellied legs and battered bones, it turned out to be a battle of epic proportions just to squeeze through that medium-sized gap.
Moral of the story- running a full marathon would be a terrible idea.