Those were the primary emotions sloshing around this morning as I watched the London Marathon on TV. (I am a runner now, so have to watch the FLM. It's the law.) I really really wanted to be there - not necessarily running, just to be there and be part of it. It's probably a good job that SB turned 8 on Thursday and had a wee party with four of his friends yesterday at our house, so I didn't have to wrestle with the issue of whether I could justify a trip to London to watch people I don't know run around for 26 miles!
The joy bit was huge too, though. I got tearful at one point watching the elite men running (do you know they hit the 10km mark at 29 minutes!!! OMG!!). They passed a water station and as they did so, the runners nearest the water picked up bottles and then handed them across to the guys nearer the centre of the road. There were about a dozen in the group at that stage, I assume all fiercely competitive athletes, burning to win, and they all passed water to each other like they were out on a club run. I don't know why, but that just seemed really nice to me and I got all teary. Sap that I am. Oh and it was kind of nice in an evil way to watch Gordon Ramsay get cramp.
I joined in in my own small way at one point. I took FB to karate and discovered in the car that I had forgotten my HRM so couldn't run outside as I wouldn't be able to tell the time for getting back. I had also left my iPod behind (you're impressed with my organisational skills aren't you? Let me run your court action!) so had nothing to listen to in the gym. And you all know how stimulating I find treadmill running even with some music to distract me. Blech. So I hopped on the treadmill, set the TV to BBC1 and ran watching the marathon, with no sound (no headphones, duh!). So all I need to be able to manage a treadmill run is 32,000 people willing to run around London on a Sunday morning. Piece of cake.
I had decided to do a short run to see how the dodgy foot fared so ran for 25 minutes, stretched A LOT, particularly the right calf, just in case and then did about 15 minutes on the cross trainer to finish off. The foot feels okay just now, but then I have been wearing trainers all day. We'll see how it is tomorrow morning when I crawl out of bed like one of the undead and try to put office shoes on.
SB's little party yesterday was quite fun. Four of his friends came over and we had an impromptu Wii boxing and tennis tournament (Husband joined in the tennis!) followed by a brief session of parade drill where Husband taught a gaggle of small boys how to stand to attention. It didn't go entirely smoothly but there was much hilarity (and desertion). There was then a treasure hunt I had laid around the house (too wet to allow clues in the garden) and some flying of SB's new remote control helicopter - it is small enough to fly indoors and is really cool. Then I fed the boys some inappropriate food, got them hyped up on sugar and delivered them back to their parents in time for Doctor Who. (SB spent time in the back of our car with one of his friends trying to explain how he had seen a man on TV who "smells" people's personalities and how Gordon Brown apparently smells like mouldy potatoes and muddy earth. I wish I had been in the house when SB's friend tried to explain that one to his mum!)
And now it is Sunday evening, I have scoffed a (rather large) bowl of lemon and rocket risotto and am off to scan the running blogs to see if any of the FLM guys have posted. Because you just know that the first thing they did once they got their medal was to declare "I must find a laptop and post forthwith! Other bloggers will be on tenterhooks waiting!" Whereas in the unlikely event that I ever completed the London marathon, I would be found standing atop Big Ben yelling "I just ran a marathon!! Worship me!!" For about a week.