Now I’m not one to boast, but I’ll probably HAVE to, just this once.
This week I ran the Stockholm half-marathon, 21km (13 miles for the antimetrics) through this quite lovely city. The day was perfect–not too warm, not too sunny, no rain–and the atmosphere was, for Sweden, pretty electric.
My training consisted of the following: running about once every 2 weeks for the 3 previous months, and going out to get roaring drunk on the night before the race. This is NOT the kind of training that most sources recommend, but it seems to have done the trick for me.
Fig 1: Your correspondent (on right) and running mate, post-run
I crossed the line 1 hour and 54 minutes later, a 10-minute improvement on my previous attempt in 2007. My in-race routine consisted of 4 golden steps:
1) Tape nipples to avoid chafing
2) Eat and/or drink everything that is offered along the course
3) High-five all the children who offer a high-fiving
4) Get behind somebody with a really nice arse and follow it
It’s a tremendous feeling, powering through the streets that you pass every day, stumbling up hills and grunting in pain with thousands of other like-minded wackos (and their shapely arses). And the kick one gets when stumbling across the finishing line really can’t be beaten.
Now it seems the next logical step is to get the finger out and start thinking about a marathon.
Thinking, thinking, thinking…