Ten Miles? Are you insane?

So the other week, we took a step that I didn’t believe was possible – we ran ten miles. Well, to be exact we ran 10.83 miles owing to a minor wrong turn by Clio on the way back.

From Clio’s house we jogged happily enough to Regent’s Park. We even managed some conversation, which was new. Usually we spend the run jogging silently alongside each other, not because we hate each other mind. We were just conserving our energy, sending telepathic signals of support as we ran.

We reached Regent’s Park and started around it. As we ran we spotted signs, restaurants and road crossings and, remembering our route that we had meticulously planned on www.mapmyrun.com, we knew that we would be running past these landmarks another two times before we could even contemplate reaching the end of this run.

The first lap seemed endless… everything was new and we had no references to measure our progress. Taxis muttered past in the darkness; students as youthful to us as toddlers brawled and chattered like the penguins at London Zoo; huge, expensive houses loomed alongside us before passing by.

Having taken an age to get round the first time the second lap felt swifter. We knew where the landmarks would be and could tick them off as we went, knowing how far we had left.

The final lap, however, was the longest. All the strength passed from my legs as the last few grains of carbohydrate were sucked up by my starving muscles. Each step became more of a challenge – lift foot, move it forward, plant it firmly on the ground. Keep going. Breathe... Breathe, damn it! Clio even stumbled as we crossed over some potholed section of the pavement.

Every landmark we passed was a victory but they seemed further away than ever. I started to divide up the rest of the route, hoping that mathematical calculations would distract my brain from the pain in my feet.

But then we saw the streetlights that would take us off the Regent’s Park circuit and back towards Clio’s house. Elation was short-lived. There was still the matter of Primrose Hill to navigate.

With legs like lead and feet complaining with every step, we rounded the final corner and staggered home. We hadn’t stopped once, we hadn’t given up. We had made it!!

Alex (Clio’s brother) took us through a military stretch, we showered and we ate but the effort of the run meant that we forwent our customary Scrabble.

Such sacrifices we make!