Half marathons are boring unless you're quick
I dream that one day I'll start a blog post, and I won't start it with a line about meaning to blog more. But it's not going to happen. Yesterday I ran a half marathon and it was one of the hardest things I've done in my life. It was also one of the most boring. Seriously. Out of all the things I was prepared for, I wasn't ready for the monotony. I have anaemia, so I was ready for my lungs to hurt, but they didn't. It was a long way to run, so I was ready for my legs to hurt, but they didn't. Instead I found my knees and hips aching, and my mind bored stiff despite the lovely villages and great views. As a sort-of newbie runner, I was proud of completing it in sub-two and a half hours (only just though - 2:26:34!). I didn't stop and I didn't swear at anyone and I didn't cry* and I left myself enough energy at the end to sprint the last 100m. In hindsight, this was a god awful outcome. I'm not good at many things in running but I'm