Day 101: Of Hills, Holidays and the Ongoing Madness

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The Easter "Holiday"

There’s a strange ritual that marks the start of every Easter break at my school—and it involves not rest, relaxation, or even the ceremonial unwrapping of an early chocolate egg. No, it’s me, waking up at 6am and heading into Rochester to run an A Level revision session for Year 13. Tradition is a powerful thing, particularly the kind that requires coffee before sunrise and a whiteboard pen in hand before most people have even remembered what day it is.

Pavement Pounding and Cookham Climbing

Due to the early start and location, my run once again looped the now-familiar pavements around The Math School. Originally planned to be just over an hour, my ever-vigilant Garmin Forerunner 955, with all the smugness of a digital life coach who definitely doesn’t have kids, suggested a reduced 40-minute session thanks to a rough night and a sore lower back.

I wasn’t feeling great. The kind of “not great” where your body keeps filing complaints to HR and HR just keeps forwarding them to “stretch more.” But I ran. I showed up. And I took on Cookham Hill.

For those unfamiliar, Cookham Hill is what you’d get if a road and a cliff had an argument and compromised on vertical. It used to be part of our school’s cross-country route—until someone noticed that most students were walking it with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man on a treadmill. These days, it’s more myth than path. But today, I climbed it. Slowly. Stubbornly. Possibly audibly grumbling. But I did it.

Epsom Salts and Small Victories

The rest of the day slipped by quietly, in that way holiday days sometimes do once the real work is done. When I finally made it home, I reached for the Epsom salts again, running a bath like an old wizard summoning ancient healing rituals. My back, to its credit, has stopped actively sulking. For now.

And so: Day 101. A number that feels less symbolic than 100, but somehow more real. Because this is what training for a marathon really is—not the fireworks, but the quiet, aching persistence that follows them. A hill climbed. A lesson taught. A run done despite it all.

Tomorrow, we continue.

Location: Sittingbourne, UK

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