Most people when they talk about turning 40 and having a mid life crisis, go out and buy a sports car or die their hair bleach blonde. For me, it was training for a marathon.
I'm not much of an athlete, I've spent 23 years serving in the submarine arm of the Royal Australian Navy, I like beer (a lot), and am much more inclined to watch football on the TV rather than pick up a ball and go for a kick. So when my good mate Leigh Holland (Dutchy) organized running on the Rocky foreshore each Friday morning, I was very surprised to hear myself say "Count me in", and even more surprised to say to him "Why don't we try and do a marathon!" I have only recently had shoulder surgery so can only assume that the drugs were talking that day and not me.
So today starts the beginning of what is probably going to be a painful journey.
Marathon: (noun)
A popular form of overpriced torture wherein participants wake up at ass-o-clock in the morning and stand in the freezing cold until its time to run, at which point they miserably trot for a god-awful interval of a time that could be better spent sleeping in and/or consuming large quantities of beer and cupcakes.
See also: masochism, awfulness, 'a bunch of bullshit', boob chaffing, cupcake deprivation therapy
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