Supposed to be nervously getting ready for one of the biggest days of my life tomorrow. Instead I’m over 200 miles away from the Virgin Money London Marathon 2019 start line. Missing the marathon pales into insignificance compared with what my husband is going through; his father died suddenly and unexpectedly, what, 4 days ago. It’s all a bit of a blur.
I’ve chased refunds for our, and my parents-in-law’s, trip to London. As a family we were making it into a special trip away. The kids were really excited. The PIL were coming to support me in the marathon. None of it matters, I understand that, but I do feel pretty sad about missing out tomorrow. I’m constantly having to deal with two very disappointed children who also have a grandad whom they adored, to miss. The pissing Easter holidays just have to be done NOW.
I can’t complain about missing a run. It would be beyond insensitive and selfish so I’m admitting it here, in the virtual world, nowhereland.
Look, I put myself through hell for that goddamn marathon. I hated training for it (don’t believe me? Read my last post Lost in 26.2 It probably couldn’t be more ironic if I tried) but I bloody well did it. Now tomorrow instead of taking on the challenge, of finding out if I really am as unfit as a deep fried battered sausage, I’ll be… well I don’t know what. Life is completely fluid at the minute. I have no idea what’s happening. I can’t have any expectations of my husband (who I think is doing brilliantly btw). I know the kids will be bored and pissed off – that’s pretty much standard at the end of their worst school holidays ever.
I’ve been fairly positive about the deferral: I wasn’t as fit as I’d have liked; next year is a big year for VMLM; this is a second chance to have another crack at it etc etc but of course it’s going to hurt if I see the TV coverage, particularly if I see TeamNSPCC runners. I should be there.
But, even more so, Stan should be here. I am reeling from his death. Life often doesn’t make sense but this?! This was like someone flipped the planet upside down without notice. The first couple of days I cried a lot, which is rare for Little Miss Emotionally Dead here. Let’s not even go near the whole emotionally unstable personality disorder thing. Anyway, now I’m drained. I feel guilty about everything like I shouldn’t be crying, it’s not fair, this is about my husband (and so it is). I’m doing quite a good job of holding my shit together now but I’m still feeling it, on the inside.
In many ways I perform my best when I have something to kick against and defy. It lights the kicking and screaming yet clear-thinking survival spark that I have inside of me. I think it’s a common characteristic of people who grew up with trauma? I might be wrong though. For me when something goes wrong, like really wrong, it’s like my brain can think clearly . This is what it knows and I feel strangely calm. Upset, distress and the unknown are weirdly familiar and bizarrely settling to me.
Anyway, throughout all of the training for this year’s marathon it has never felt real. I’ve felt uncomfortable, like I didn’t belong there, that it was too impossible. I didn’t really believe. Well, now I have a fire to prove that I do belong there. My plan is to ‘Smash it for Stan’. I’ll keep this quiet from the family. I don’t want to trivialise his loss. He was very private too so I feel quite conflicted even writing this blog. However, I’ve done enough of stifling feelings to last a lifetime so hopefully this wouldn’t be too horrendous to him (it would, I know it would). He has left such a huge hole in the life of so many. Everyone is shocked. A genuinely good and gentle man who never smoked, didn’t drink, and was a healthy weight with a healthy diet? 66? No. That’s not right at all. Upside down world.
Will I watch any marathon coverage tomorrow? I don’t know. I suppose it might be useful research for when I attempt it next year – my marathon in an upside down world. I’ll be there, right where I belong.