Day 112 – The Unrest Day (or: What Fresh Challenge is This?)
Today was, on paper, a rest day. Rest days in marathon training are sacred. They are the little islands of stillness in a sea of pounding pavements and sore calves. They’re when you let your body recover, your legs recharge, and, ideally, your mind wander only as far as the biscuit tin. But rest, it turns out, is a relative term. Because while I had a very clear idea of what my day was supposed to look like, the universe had its own agenda. Spoiler alert: it didn’t involve a cup of coffee and a nap. When the Wheels Come Off – Literally We were taking the girls and the other members of the Sittingbourne Carnival Court on a team-building day to Chessington. A lovely idea in theory: sunshine, laughter, roller coasters and bonding. The drive was going well. In fact, it was suspiciously smooth—no traffic, good time, kids behaving. I should have known something was brewing. Then, as we glided along the M25, the car began to lose power. Not dramatically—just enough to make me think I’d som...