Day 73 – The Joy of a Rest Day

-

Earned, Not Given
After yesterday’s long run and a weekend that could only be described as “character-building” (courtesy of unexpected water damage), I was elated to see that today’s schedule contained the most glorious of words: Rest Day. There are few things in life more satisfying than knowing you’ve worked hard enough to deserve a proper break. It’s the same feeling a wizard might get when, after a long night of incantations and improbable near-death experiences, he realises someone else is now responsible for saving reality.

Resting Properly

Now, a rest day isn’t just about doing nothing—it’s about doing nothing properly. That meant ensuring, through sheer determination and a bit of tactical delegation, that I had no lingering tasks hanging over me. No surprise marking, no ‘quick jobs’ around the house, and certainly no unexpected DIY disasters sneaking in under the radar. Once I was satisfied that all was in order, I settled into the fine art of relaxation, feet up, cup of tea in hand, ready to embrace an evening of well-earned recovery.

Back to Business Tomorrow

Of course, this moment of tranquillity won’t last forever. The training plan waits for no one, and tomorrow morning I’ll be lacing up my trainers once more. But for now, I’ll take my rest where I can, knowing that the best way to face the miles ahead is to fully appreciate the ones not being run today. After all, even the fastest runner in the world still has to stop and tie their shoelaces every now and then. 

Location: Sittingbourne, UK

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Day 117: The Countdown Begins – With Bubbles, Cable Cars and Freeze-Dried Yoghurts

-
Image
An Alarming Rest Day The first of my rest days arrived with the cheery chirp of a 6am alarm, because apparently, my brain hasn’t received the memo about the whole “rest” part. Still, there was a strange satisfaction in rising early knowing I didn’t have to pound the pavements today. That satisfaction was slightly dampened—much like the weather—by a particularly excitable pollen count. Despite the persistent drizzle, the air was clearly full of microscopic mischief. The antihistamines made their valiant appearance and were taken with gratitude and a mild grumble. A Journey Worth the Cable Car This afternoon marked one of the most exciting rituals in the London Marathon build-up: collecting my race number. It involved a drive to the O2 followed by the delightfully surreal experience of sailing across the Thames in a cable car, which felt a little bit like commuting in a Bond film if Bond wore Asics and carried a protein bar. Upon landing on the other side, the Excel centre welcomed me...
Read more

London Marathon 2025: The Final Chapter

-
Image
Morning Light and Marathon Dreams Today was the day I had been building towards for months. Every cold morning, every soaked pair of socks, every long, lonely run came down to this — London Marathon day. The alarm clock chirped far too early, but I was already half-awake, running through the plan for the day in my head. After polishing off two cinnamon and raisin bagels (because clearly one was not going to be enough) and a strong coffee, I packed up my bag of gels, SaltStick chews, and hope and we set off. The drive up to Blackheath was filled with that strange, electric mix of excitement and anxiety. My parents did their best to drop me as close to the start as they could and I waved them off with a grin that hid the fluttering nerves underneath. I made my way to the starting area, ticking off the necessary pre-race rituals — most importantly, joining the epic pilgrimage to the toilets, where I was reminded once again that there are few places in life where dignity is checked at t...
Read more

Day 30: Canterbury 10-Mile Race - A Yardstick for Progress

-
Image
The Morning Rush Sunday races always mean an early start, and today was no exception. Arriving in Canterbury at 8 am, I was immediately thrust into the trifecta of pre-race rituals: parking, collecting my race number, and navigating the inevitable toilet queue—an experience that can feel like an endurance event of its own. It was a bitterly cold morning, hovering around 2 degrees. Dressing appropriately for a race in such conditions is always a gamble: the first few minutes will chill you to your core, but once you’re moving, layers can become an unnecessary burden. After a quick, if not particularly effective, warm-up, I bumped into a friend, Ben Holliday, whose detailed analysis of local cricket diverted my attention from my frozen fingertips. Perhaps distraction really is the greatest warmth. The Race With over 1,200 participants, the start line was a jostling crowd, all shuffling for position like biscuits in a tin. The initial bunching, while slightly frustrating, provided some re...
Read more