It’s the final countdown (but I’m still counting back up)

After the last four weeks of peroneal tenosynovitis-gate (just rolls off the tongue doesn’t it?), my marathon training plan lies in shreds. The last week and a bit has been a microcosm of a proper training programme – enforced inaction followed by a mini 3/6/9 mile climb, peaking at 13.5 miles on Sunday, and tapering back down this week.

Consequently I feel utterly unprepared for the Chicago Marathon this weekend. Until an ultrasound last Friday revealed that my tendon is now almost fluid-free, superstition and not wishing to tempt fate had prevented me from doing any real mental preparation for the marathon, so now suddenly a mad panic is on to get into the mindset of running 26.2 miles.

I haven’t properly researched my nutrition plan, so I’m just ploughing through lots of wholemeal pasta, sweet potato, quinoa, and bulgar wheat, and hoping for the best. Towards the end of the week, I might even go wild and have two slices of toast with peanut butter for breakfast.

I haven’t familiarised myself with water stops and loos* on the course, and don’t get me started on what I’m going to wear. I bought some Team GB official replica capris on eBay for an exorbitant sum when I was feeling full of Olympic joy and springy tendons, thinking they’d be suitably inspirational marathon attire. Now I worry that plodding and limping my way around the course like someone who has hardly run in the last month while wearing the official kit of the world’s third best Olympic nation looks faintly completely pathetic. Thank God I didn’t get lured in by the Team GB crop vest, which worn by anyone without Jessica Ennis’s abs is probably a Bad Idea.

Should a slow plodding person really run a marathon wearing these?

Perhaps being slightly unprepared is psychologically better. I have a tendency to overthink things (cf making a salad with ingredients chosen to cure my tendon), so perhaps going into the race and just taking every minute of it at face value will be better than stressing too much before. I’ve abandoned all hope of a good time – I just want to finish with my tendon still attached, so without the pressure of speed, it will be a different, but maybe even more enjoyable experience.

*doing a “Paula Radcliffe” remains my worst nightmare