How was your weekend running?

I have been waiting and wanting to write this post for so so long ... And you know, it could be really short. Two words, in fact: Sub. Three.

It’s actually going to be really long, sorry.

Yesterday, I ran Seville marathon. I’d been deliberately keeping really quiet about this, as I didn’t want to put too much pressure on myself – so apologies for not mentioning it – I did feel occasionally like I was cheating on you lot. I even put my tiny shakeout jog the day before on “private” on Strava so no one could see where I was.

And so. Seville. Sunday morning. I sleep fine, wake up feeling good. On Saturday I had a long talk with my coach, Tom Craggs, which left me feeling so positive I wanted to go and run the thing right there and then. So, Sunday, I got up, had my usual pre-race breakfast, cup of tea, got ready, waited until the right time (hotel right by the start, so 45 mins before). Got in the lift to go down to exit.

And the lift broke.

I got in on my floor, lots of people in there and they turn out to be going up, and get out. Another chap gets in. There’s a strange clunk, then the lift goes up again. All the way to the roof terrace. Then it comes down. And at every floor, it opens – but opens three feet or so below the actual lift door opening.

If I had been on my own I would have gone into total panic/meltdown. Instead, my companion – who turns out to be English, too – reassures me everything will be fine, we would get out in plenty of time. He points out we could probably get up again to the roof and walk down a fire escape. In the event, we manage to stop the lift at the ground floor, pull open the outer doors, call for people to keep them open, then climb out with some help – and all the time this man is just being really calm and reassuring.



Source: theguardian

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