The half marathon that nearly wasn't

So you may remember that a while ago I signed up for the 2012 Royal Parks Half Marathon. It must be one of the nicest races in the country: a long loop around four of London’s largest and loveliest parks at a perfect time of year. It also has good associations for me since it was my first ever half marathon, back in 2009. I knew that I was going to have to juggle training with a major rewrite on my book … but I was happy to take on that challenge. It would be good for me! It would make sure that after a long day working on my book, I would have the incentive to go out and get a nice, refreshing run in!

Except it didn’t happen quite like that. First, I put off starting training in earnest for ages. And then ... the rewrite that I’ve just done has honestly been one of the hardest things I’ve done, ever. I realise I'm lucky that that's the worst life has thrown me - but it was really hard. I had so much to do, and so little time to do it, and I was also so incredibly stressed and doubtful about it … that I just could not face adding training onto that. I was still running maybe twice a week for half an hour at a time – but I was also writing most weekends and the idea of getting up from my computer, feeling totally shattered, and then going out and doing my long run, was just beyond me. Then a rib/back injury or niggle added to the fun. I felt I didn’t have enough time to train – but more importantly I just didn’t want to spare the mental energy. I needed it all for my book.

I handed in the second draft at the end of August, which I thought was still enough time – just about – to train for the race on 7 Oct. We had a two-week holiday in Turkey booked, but there was a running machine in an air-conditioned gym, and a trail where surely I could run … except on arrival we found the machine was broken, the trail was on a busy road with no footpath and the weather was in the thirties – just too hot to run. Laps of the pool, yes: running laps, no.

Anyway, I came home from holidays in serious doubt as to whether I could, or should do the race at all. I hadn’t done a half since March 2011 – and my longest run since then was probably 4 or 5 miles. What if I injured myself? It would be better not to risk it. I could always do a different race at Christmastime, or in the spring. And all those other excuses …

But then it occurred to me that that’s what they were: excuses. I made excuses to get out of training, but I don’t want to make an excuse to get out of the race – especially since I’m doing it to raise money for charity. I still have two weeks (just); I managed an hour’s run last week, and I plan to do an hour and twenty tonight. I won’t be at my fastest on race day – and I probably won’t even be able to run all the way around. But I’ll be there at the start, and at the finish, and in between I’ll just hobble/jog/limp around as best I can.

If I'd had any lingering doubts, reading this post from the always inspirational Phil ‘Skinny Latte’ Moore would have killed them off for good. That race sounds like absolute hell on earth, but she finished it. From where I’m sitting that’s all that matters. Ironically, had she breezed through, it would have been very impressive but somehow less inspiring! It reminds me of the Pixar storytelling rule that we admire characters more for their efforts than for their successes (not that that race wasn’t a success …)

Anyway, that’s a long-winded way of saying … I was having second (and third and fourth) thoughts about the race, and I still have them but I’m doing it anyway. I’ll keep you posted as to how I get on!

(Hopefully this will be me by 12.30pm on Sunday week. NB: there's a reason this photo is in black and white ...)

My holiday wardrobe edit

I love reading those 'what to pack this summer' things – you know, like the one Gwyneth Paltrow does for Goop? Although most of us could probably afford only a leg of Gwyneth’s shorts, I love the idea of planning a capsule wardrobe for a holiday. Your mum would call it packing: a fashion editor would call it a holiday edit. Here's what I’m taking to Turkey in just over a week’s time:

Linen kaftan from Kew, £49.95

Shorts from Fat Face, £10

Dress from Hoss Intropia, £65

Maxi dress from Hobbs, £119

Sandals from Kew, £35

That's all I'm taking - plus of course various tank tops, another pair of shorts, flip flops, hat, shades, swimsuit and lots of books. Now, before anyone shouts at me for spending so much money … up until about a week ago I had pretty much no summer clothes. All my summer stuff is years old because, let’s face it, there hasn’t really BEEN a summer for the past 3 years. But then it started to get really hot and I had to face the fact that I had nothing to wear, either here or for my holiday. However, by the time I got round to it, the summer sales were ending and it was all autumn stuff in the shops. (On a side note: doesn’t that drive you crazy? Why can’t they sell summer clothes for the whole of the summer? Ditto seeing all the spring dresses in February when it’s zero degrees and snowing outside.)

I was saved by two shops: Kew and, weirdly, Fat Face, which has never appealed to me but seemed to be literally the only shop in London still selling summer clothes last weekend. Poor Kew are actually closing down soon, and I got some great bargains there – check out their website , there are some great shoes and accessories.

The good news is, since we generally only get a couple of week’s summer, this little lot should last me for the next few years …

How about you? Do you buy all your summer clothes when they arrive in the shops in April even if there's snow on the ground – or do you just not bother, like me?

In North Yorkshire without a blanket

I'm back from outer space! Well not quite outer space, but I've been busy. Since I last posted I have, all in the same weekend:

1) handed in Book 2 after a few weeks of round the clock writing and working and generally being a hermit

2) had a birthday - very nice, celebrated with breakfast at Ottolenghi, dinner in the Feng Shang Princess and by seeing Damsels in Distress (which unfortunately wasn't great - definitely not a patch on his Metropolitan, which is one of my favourite films). The weekend also featured two other friends' birthdays, which was a shock to the system after my weeks of being a Hermit. On the Friday I stayed up til 1 am for the first time in weeks and on Sunday I had pizza and wine for breakfast. Confusing.

To recover from all this, I headed off with A for five days in North Yorkshire. We went from moors to dale - first stop was the Star Inn, a very very nice place on the edge of the Yorkshire moors:

We were delighted with ourselves having rung up at the last minute and got a great deal (£99 for the night, which is good considering it's quite a fancy place). After a gorgeous meal, and a game of scrabble with champagne, we went for a lovely walk the next day and saw some of the local wildlife:

We then drove to Masham (pronounced Massam) where we attempted to look around the Black Sheep brewery but got lost in some farm yards, shivered a bit in the market square, had a cream tea and then ate at the excellent Bay Horse pub before heading back to our hotel room to watch The Apprentice (I know, I know, but it was a great one. Azar and his Strategy!)

The next day we went to Fountains Abbey to have a look around, and then to the Yorkshire Dales. My favourite village was Arncliff, which had chickens on the village green and a calf gambolling around like a pet dog on the loose. Arncliff was too tiny to stay in so we went to Kettlewell, which is apparently where they filmed Calendar Girls. Having experienced the weather up there, I take my hat off to those ladies even more for stripping off. It was absolutely freezing. In Fountains Abbey and I ended up buying a blanket from the National Trust shop just to keep myself alive:

Finally, we went to Saltaire to visit the Hockney paintings at Salts Mill (though it's an impressive enough place even if you're not a Hockney fan like me). and then Harrogate. We nearly stayed at the hotel Agatha Christie disappeared to, but found a cuter, cheaper option. We had tea at Betty's and spent the afternoon in the beautiful old Turkish baths before heading to Leeds and home. Our train home from Leeds took FIVE HOURS. It was meant to take two and a half hours - in fact it should have been even shorter but the journey time was already 'extended' which it seems is different from being 'late'. Matters weren't really improved when an announcement went out offering free cake for all the passengers in First Class.

It was a great holiday and I'd love to go back to Yorkshire. I may have to console myself with an online purchase of possibly the cutest Jubilee-themed biscuit ever from Bettys of Harrogate.