A run a day. But oh the washing!

 

Every day is a running day

It’s all very well taking up a challenge to run every day in December, but it’s got the washing machine working overtime.

I took up the Marcothon challenge thrown to me by fellow Women’s Running Project Trailer-er Vicki. We’d been through quite a bit together to train for the Gower Coastal Half Marathon, running it in the face of storm-force winds and horizontal rain – oh how we laughed about that afterwards. Some considerable time afterwards…

The Challenge was started in 2009 by man-and-wife team and keen runners Marco and Debbie Consani, who wanted something a bit different to see them through December’s short, dark days. Very soon their mates were joining in and now it’s global, people all over the world getting out and running at all sorts of weird and wonderful hours. Not to raise money, as it’s not a sponsored event, not even to win, because it’s not a competition, but because you can and you want to and, of course, because it’s there.

The rules are simple, run a minimum of 25 minutes every day, yes, even Christmas Day, Boxing Day and those days before the new year. Only running counts, no walking or going up and down the stairs, though it doesn’t matter about the pace. And if you think you are cheating, you probably are.

I’ve completed day seven, so far so good. Runs have been at all times of day and night, including two from my new place of work. It gave them quite a shock to see me in lycra! Fortunately, two of my colleagues are also running mates and they too have taken up the challenge, so they at least are used to me being a sight for sore eyes.

So the running’s fine, but oh my goodness the washing piles up, the house is festooned with running bras drying over radiators, tights and tee-shirts are spread over every available surface. I tell visitors it’s the ‘now’ Christmas decoration fashion, I think I get away with it.

And thank goodness I have spare shoes, there has been a lot of mud and rain, so they too are lurking in the hallway, ready to trip up unsuspecting passers-by and cats. Socks got his own back, though, and left a dead mouse in one of them, either that or it passed out from my foot fumes.

So just 21 days of daily running to go. I’m up for it, but I fear for the washing machine.

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