And so, my first week of marathon training comes to an end. One 3.5 mile run on the board, followed by 5 days of illness. I wonder if coughing can be counted as cross-training? It can get pretty vigorous when I put my mind to it.
I’m convinced that each week of running must uncover some great truth or lesson, if only we can find it. This week’s big blob of wisdom is pretty unmissable though. It’s this: that a plan is a thing of great beauty. It can take hours, days, weeks, years, to germinate and develop and adjust. We can spend every spare moment polishing it until we can see our great, fat, smug faces grinning back at us. But it isn’t enough. Without the adhesive of luck, well, it’s just a hill o’beans. So, always have a plan, but expect it not to work out.
And before I get back to the tissues and the whisky, let’s send an RIP to Bob Monkhouse: They laughed when I said I wanted to be a stand-up comedian… Well, they’re not laughing now…
