The London Marathon is Luring Me Back!

One week on from the Virgin London Marathon and there will be many still in the recovery process after completing over 26 miles of hard jogging, minus a toenail or two, and with hamstrings as tight as Nicole Kidman's face. Away from the happy scenes you may have witnessed on TV or in the half a million crowd that adorned the streets of London there would have been a battle field out there. There certainly was when I completed the marathon five years ago. Back then I spent half my time leapfrogging over bodies lying strewn across the road. There were men's bleeding nipples, the unfortunate loss of bowel control, torrents of tears from those whose injuries meant they would fail to finish (I actually heard the sound of someone's hamstring snap), plus much emotion from those whose physical suffering only heightened their sense of grief for those familial losses they were running in the memory of. By the time you finished and your body seized up, you felt as if you had been through the physical and mental mangle. Yet, here's the thing. Once I finished I vowed I would never try it again. It was a box ticked and it was time to move on to the next challenge. But being at the pasta party last week the day before the race and seeing all the excitement, anticiption and trepidation etched on the faces of so many, it got the juices going again. I am finding myself saying I might just give the marathon another crack and if I do where else could it be but London? Oh no, I am falling into a trap and I may not be able to get out of it!