I managed to avoid the stormy weather and stepped out in the aftermath for my Sunday 14 miler. Clissold Park was flooded, Parkland Walk was covered with fallen branches and the mud swamps of Hampstead Heath were practically impassable. There is something so satisfying about finishing a run like the one yesterday - caked in mud and soaked through. The scars of victory. Well, the scars of survival. And this is North London. What must it be like someone really wild? Like Croydon.
One of my sponsors who'd done the London Marathon called it The Surburban Everest. I like that. I'm never going to climb the world tallest mountain but I can attempt a flat concrete version. It still feels out of reach but in the coming weeks my long runs are 16 miles then two weeks of 20s. If I survive that I think I'll feel more confident.
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