Well I didn't think it could be done, but done it was, 21 gruelling miles. Thankfully the route was level and blissfully fresh. My mother had had enough of sleepless nights worrying about a collapsed rhino half way round the London Marathon course and therefore was determined to get me out training. After much grumbling I was out the door and onto the Cuckoo trail, a footpath and cycleway that follows old railway lines through East Sussex. It tuned out to be an excellent running path, with no traffic to worry about, and a level even surface. Mum drove me forward before peddling off on her bike for a more leisurely ride. I was left puffing and panting but with the dog for company. I preoccupied my mind and soon found a rhythm, which dare I say, actually felt quite good.
This was a real practice, so I had energy gels, water and a 10kg backpack to simulate the weight of the rhino. The basic route was Heathfield to Polegate and back, which was about 10.5 miles each way. However after the 11th mile I started to regret letting my mum talk me into this, knowing if I stopped and walked the longer the whole thing would take. It struck me just how many hours I had to be running for, as day was swiftly turning to night and I still had several miles to go. If ever there is an incentive to keep running, getting off a dark and isolated disused railway track has to be up there. Luckily I had the dog, otherwise I would have become more and more convinced I was in some sort of horror film.
Incidentally when i did finally get to the end, only one of us was 'dog-tired', within seconds of coming to a stop after 21 constant miles, she picked up a stick and nudged me to throw it for her, bounding off as though she just spent the last 5 hours shut inside. Needless to say I was not at that level. However I had completed it, I had run and run. 'Maybe I can do this Marathon!' was a thought that genuinely crossed my mind.
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