Day 83 – A Couple of Days on the Sidelines

Cold Reality

If yesterday was a write-off thanks to an unwelcome cold, then today wasn’t exactly breaking out the celebratory bunting either. As I turned in last night, my body was already holding a quiet but determined protest, waving placards that read “No Running Tomorrow” and “Let Us Sleep In Peace.” I did the sensible thing – an unusual occurrence, I’ll admit – and set my alarm a good 45 minutes later than usual, fully aware that even this generous gesture would be met with the same enthusiasm one reserves for a Monday morning tax audit.

Sure enough, dragging myself out of bed this morning felt like emerging from a swamp of treacle, only with less glamour and more sniffles. Not one to wallow – for long – I decided to inject a touch of positivity into proceedings. On the way to work, I swung by the shop to restock with something more exciting than the usual breakfast fare. Fruit and lemon pancakes made a strong case for morale boosting and bagels at lunchtime promised a kind of carb-fuelled comfort only a weary soul can truly appreciate.

And let’s not forget the Jakemans Throat and Chest sweets – I’ve been working through them at a rate that would suggest they’re sponsoring me. There’s something oddly comforting about those mentholated little marvels, like a small, minty hug for your throat, delivered with the subtlety of a foghorn.

Feet Off the Pavement, Thoughts on the Move

Having a second day off running felt, frankly, odd. Like I'd missed the bus, the train and possibly the whole transport network. That familiar twitch of worry crept in – was this going to set me back? Were those lost miles out there somewhere, mocking me like socks that disappear from the laundry, never to be seen again?

Fortunately, a few wise words with colleagues eased my nerves. The consensus was clear: two days of rest, especially this far out from race day, won’t unravel the very fabric of my marathon dreams. Quite the opposite – sometimes, the most heroic act is not pushing through, but knowing when to sit still and eat a bagel. These weren’t your standard “earned” rest days, but let’s not split hairs when the body clearly needs a timeout.

Onwards, With a Slightly Soggy Sniffle

Tomorrow, I’m optimistic that I’ll be back out there, albeit taking it easy. No need to leap straight back into the deep end – this isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon (literally, as it turns out). Listening to your body isn’t just advice for runners, it’s also how you avoid becoming the subject of cautionary tales told by physiotherapists.

One thing’s for certain: this little pause, this temporary truce with my immune system, will not derail the journey. London Marathon 2025, I’m still coming for you – just as soon as I’ve had another pancake, a few more Jakemans, and found the willpower to stand up without groaning.