last steps

The jury is still out about whether it's a sign of the times, a harbinger of global warming-caused meteorological mayhem, but this year has been pretty crazy regarding the weather. Right after Christmas, a serious cold spell started that lasted far into February. According to news reports at the time, it was the coldest winter in nearly two decades. When the cold released its grip a bit, snow struck, and Londoners were reminded of what a precarious existence they lead, utterly dependent on a fragile network of public transport to get to work, to get around, to get anywhere. Snow paralyzed the buses first and then the tube. Only foolhardy drivers and massively suicidal cyclists ventured out into the streets. The sidewalks were full of people walking their commute, but even more called it a day before the day even started and stayed at home. Many smaller shops remained closed. Imperial College was eerily quiet. The cafeteria offered free coffee to all the nutcases who had braved the white element and then closed when not too many showed up. The sports center also closed before the sun set to give those working there enough time to walk home. When I shopped at Tesco that night, the shop looked like it had been raided by a horde of rabid Barbarians. Debris littered the aisles, and the shelves were empty. There had been no delivery that day, and people stocked up like the world was about to come to an end – and that's exactly what it felt like.

That night in early February was like a climax. It got slowly warmer thereafter and winter was defeated. The snow came back once again but not nearly as strongly. There were quite a few rainy days. March was unremarkable. There were a few nice spring days but the rest dissolved in a bucket of grey. Easter was the turning point. The first few days were still grey, cold and miserable, but on Monday the sun started shining. It hasn't stopped since and with much hesitation, the temperatures have started to creep up. Yesterday it hit twenty for the first time this year, and it was lovely.

Today, I enjoyed the sun for three quarters of an hour. Over lunch, I went out with two friends for quick jog in the park. It was my last run before the marathon on Sunday. I have finished training and am coasting towards race day. One of my friends is in the same situation. She's doing London on Sunday and is taking the effort out just like me. So instead of pushing ourselves eternally around the park in pursuit of base kilometers or punishing ourselves around the pond doing intervals, we just took it easy. Without breaking much of a sweat, we did eight kilometers, enjoying the sun and the fresh air of spring, and put an official end to our training program.

She did, anyway. What I did over the first four months of the year can hardly be described as a training program. I went out when the weather was nice and I didn't have anything better to do. I kept track of my miles and somewhat sheepishly reported to my friend, who's approaching six hundred kilometers for the year, that I had done 275. "That's pretty good for you", she said, and while this might be true, I'm not sure it is enough.

I didn't do a single race in preparation of the marathon. I ran fast only once. I left the intervals to my friends and only did one long run of more than 20 miles. On the other hand, I've cranked up the intensity in March and especially April, my legs are nearly pain-free and, most importantly, the weather forecast is golden. Twenty-two degrees and mostly sunny – a great day for a fast race. Wish me luck and a three-hour finish.