I’m in a hotel overlooking the Arabian Sea. I have to press my nose to the window to see the street below. Everything else is water. It’s a pretty soothing view. Soothing is good.
Today has been a roller coaster, emotionally. When you consider that, basically, all we’re doing tomorrow is running around a bit (and that we’ve spent the last six months or so doing vast amounts of that already), it all seems a bit out of proportion. I think a marathon is just one of those things that gets so big in your head that it consumes everything.
It’s to the good then that we’re here as a team. It makes it all funny, instead of just plain daunting. The Cheetahs are a splendid bunch of chaps, even (or especially) the ladychaps, and it’s brilliant to have people around who share what’s become a genuine obsession instead of just being bewildered by it. That said, we do have some brave souls who have travelled just to fight the crowds and cheer us on – we haven’t driven them to suicide yet, although they’re bravely taking on the burden of pre-marathon hangovers for us.
There’s a large contingent of very motivated looking and skinny Africans sharing the hotel with us. I suspect we have probably unknowingly shared a lift with tomorrow’s race winner.
I should be in bed. I’m up in about four hours to try and eat something before the race. We start running at five forty am, and need to be there an hour or so earlier. Sleep is hard to come by though, which is why I’m sitting here typing and drinking Earl Grey. I’ll try again in a minute.
Our sponsorship is just a couple over hundred quid shy of what I thought was an impossible goal. If you’ve a fiver you can live without, now’s the time. Thank you to everybody who has helped us support the Royal Marsden Cancer Charity. You’ve genuinely astonished me.
Right then. See you on the other side…