Despite protestations to the contrary, Mum has decided to run another marathon in the spring. Mum apparently wasn't going to do a marathon next spring, in fact she agreed so with Dad, but then her friends all signed up for marathons and she got marathon envy.
Mum's marathon last year wasn't a complete success. It was OK, she says, and she enjoyed it and was relatively pleased with her time, but secretly Mum was quite disappointed. Apparently Mum was "a bit of a twat", whatever that is, and injured herself trying to run on frozen slush, and she missed quite a bit of training. Mum had to run the marathon a bit slower than she'd have liked, and this is niggling at her, a lot. Mum thinks she could run a marathon faster than she did last year, and she'd like to have another go.
Mum's marathon last year wasn't a complete success. It was OK, she says, and she enjoyed it and was relatively pleased with her time, but secretly Mum was quite disappointed. Apparently Mum was "a bit of a twat", whatever that is, and injured herself trying to run on frozen slush, and she missed quite a bit of training. Mum had to run the marathon a bit slower than she'd have liked, and this is niggling at her, a lot. Mum thinks she could run a marathon faster than she did last year, and she'd like to have another go.
Which brought her back to the deal with Dad, either a puppy or a spring marathon. Dad apparently doesn't object to the marathon as such, but he does object to the training. In particular, Mum abandoning him for large chunks of time at the weekend with the children. Mum is already abandoning Dad for large chunks of time to walk my good self, you see, and spending lots of time taking care of me. Time well spent, and really I don't need that much taking care of. I'm quite happy to entertain myself in any number of ways around the house, but for some reason my ways of entertaining myself are not always appreciated.
So, Mum has a plan, of sorts, which involves doing all her long running in the evening. Mum has in fact convinced herself she can manage two small children with a lot of extra needs, my lovely and fantastic self, and the associated lack of sleep, and still somehow build up to running 50 to 60 miles a week. She will, she has declared, just do her long runs on Sunday evenings. She's used to doing this. I'm no mathematical genius, but I'm fairly sure Mum's long runs at the moment are not really hitting the 20 to 22 mile mark. Mum is ignoring this fact. Mum is quite good at ignoring stuff, except for me nipping the inside of her legs as I try to savage the tempting little zips on her favourite trousers.
Mum has also decided that this time round the training will be easier. This is apparently because this winter can't possibly be as cold as last winter. Mum has mentioned on a number of occasions miserable long runs in freezing conditions where her hands hurt so much she wanted to cry. This winter, Mum has decided, is going to be balmy and mild in comparison.
Dad has raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
I'm not entirely sure what this whole marathon thing involves, I had hoped it would involve trainers to chew and sweat to lick off, but at the moment it just seems to mean Mum burying herself in a mountain of paper and multi-coloured pencils while nursing a mug of mulled wine. So far so good, I like paper and pencils. Mum has started writing a "training plan" on a special wall planner. The wall planner isn't on the wall yet because Mum is still writing it. The wall planner looks absolutely delicious. I am certain it will be delicious. Mum is guarding it zealously but I know at some point she will let her guard down, and I am watching...
So, Mum has a plan, of sorts, which involves doing all her long running in the evening. Mum has in fact convinced herself she can manage two small children with a lot of extra needs, my lovely and fantastic self, and the associated lack of sleep, and still somehow build up to running 50 to 60 miles a week. She will, she has declared, just do her long runs on Sunday evenings. She's used to doing this. I'm no mathematical genius, but I'm fairly sure Mum's long runs at the moment are not really hitting the 20 to 22 mile mark. Mum is ignoring this fact. Mum is quite good at ignoring stuff, except for me nipping the inside of her legs as I try to savage the tempting little zips on her favourite trousers.
Mum has also decided that this time round the training will be easier. This is apparently because this winter can't possibly be as cold as last winter. Mum has mentioned on a number of occasions miserable long runs in freezing conditions where her hands hurt so much she wanted to cry. This winter, Mum has decided, is going to be balmy and mild in comparison.
Dad has raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
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