It's Monday evening and I'm trying to figure out what I did with my bank holiday weekend. You know that feeling you get when you spend a bank holiday doing nothing and then moan on the monday night "oh I wish I'd done something this weekend". I left work on Thursday afternoon and can't decide whether that feels like a long time ago or not. What was "yesterday"? Did I leave Birmingham yesterday or the day before? I've only slept once since then.
Well actually I've had a couple of naps too. I just don't feel that tired. Legs are very sore and getting up is really hard. I was overtaken in Tesco today by an old lady, in the biscuit aisle. I wait for the green man to show at the crossing and I can't get to the other side before he starts flashing. The "rule of thumb" is that it takes 1 day per mile to recover from a race. Roll on October 15th when I shall be recovered from this. Luckily I am not a thumb and don't need to observe such rules.
Still not sunk in. Last night was very emotional again and I cried some more when I got home. I've just read all these previous blog entries and realised that I probably worried too much about things that i didn't need to. I didn't fall asleep, I had no trouble eating and those pains did not stop me running.
I still had no idea it would be that hard. But I also had no idea that I could be that hard. It was the greatest challenge I've ever faced and I met it head on and got the job done. I'm feeling fairly normal right now but I vividly remember the euphoric highs and crippling lows of the past days. I'm scribbling notes of it all to write a story that will blow away anything I've done before. So much happened to me that I don't have to fill it with random nonsense about animals or bridges (though they will appear).
Around 7.30am on Sunday the 26th May 2008 at Springwell Lock near Watford I made a decision that has changed who I am. I could describe my entire experience soley at this singularity. I'm trying to put it into words, it's hard. But then again, so am I.