So up early on Sunday morning at 8am to get out there and nail the pinnacle of my marathon training 20 miles. Having nailed 18 miles a fortnight ago it was the next step up and of I went on my pre planned route. A mile in and the first bad sign. I had only gone and forgot to bang plasters on my nipples thus guaranteeing that when I get in my post jog bath I would suffer torture on a level that is seen at Guantanamo Bay. A nice steady pace and a second bad sign occurred needing a drink about 7 miles. I normally get a but further than that. After a tour of inside both Greenbank Park and Sefton Park it was 10 miles and half way feeling not the best but now it was head down and down the prom via Mersey Road for the second 10 miles to the Albert Dock and back. I bumped into a mate along the front but said if I stop I won’t get going again as by now I was feeling the pace. Getting slower and slower I turned back for home early and such was my crash and burn that at 13.5 miles I had to stop on the waterfront not even making it home. I was gutted. This is the first time since my training started that I had not reached the target of my planned run. I walked up through Otterspool Park very despondent and starting the inquest into what had gone wrong. Well Friday night I had a bottle of wine and had to work Saturday morning. Then when the family went out Saturday afternoon I had a snooze meaning I was up late on Saturday then my two year old decided to play up and it was after 2:15 when I got asleep. Was that the reason or was it something more deep routed and phycological ? I pondered this even more in the bath as I held back my screams and my red raw nipples took some major stinging. I decided to look on the upside to take my mind of the torture my nipples were suffering and that I had done a half marathon and wasn’t stiff so much that I walked to my mayes and back to watch the Liverpool gaining a health 3 plus mile walk in total. Sadly not enough to offset the Desperado’s I had. So being ultra positive I decided that I had just flipped my weeks and instead of this weekend doing a half marathon I will do the dreaded 20 miles this weekend and have a better preparation leading up to it then a wind down to race day 25th May. Don’t forget you can still sponsor me http://www.justgiving.com/faymondo and many thanks to those who have and those who haven’t all I ask is £1. If every so called friend on Facebook and followers on my two Twitter accounts gave an Alan Whicker I could raise quite a few bob though nowhere near that heroic lad who is dying who amazingly has raised over £3 million. So just nailed a gentle 5 miles and Saturday is the planned big 20 day, wish me luck.
So today is the end of an era. After nearly 10 years service the Fay family cot has retired and the news was enough to make Jeremy Paxman spew Newsnight as well. All our three daughters have slept in the cot and the third child Holly is tonight going in her new bed. Sadly she has tainted the cot by being the worst sleeper and hopefully will get on better with her new bed though if she susses you can get out of it things might well get a lot worse before they get better. It it technically impossible for Mrs Fay to provide any more children for out cot though on the other hand I can keep my dynasty going though it is mainly with the other hand these days (Too much info) So Mrs Fay is in a sad mood I don’t really do sentiment and rather plough on with life as there is not much you can do to stop things racing by. Just the shitty nappies left to get rid off then all eyes to my eldest (nearly 10) going to uni and it’s a case of one daughter down, two to go before my second childhood starts during the daytime sessions in the city centre pubs of Liverpool.
Here is the crew in the new bed. After a few tears from Holly she has settled down. Just hope she doesn’t suss she can get out of it like Charlotte did and the extra room gives her the best nights sleep for ages (and mine and Mrs Fay’s)
Fay x x x x x