The marathon is nigh

BY NICK CHURCHOUSE

I know how Bill English feels. It's a biggie, your first one.

Everyone is watching, you've put a lot of time into the preparation, and for weeks now you've been telling people not to get too excited about it.

That's exactly what I've been trying to do with this impending marathon.

Today is my last post before strapping on the runners for that 42km jog into the unknown on Sunday.

You get the feeling Bill's Budget today is going to be a sensible one, no glory-grabbing, no sensationalism, no clever dick Cullen-esque tweaks for effect.   

Steady as she goes, so as not to scare the trigger-happy trio from Standard & Poor's watching to downgrade NZ if Bill steps out of line.

I feel the same. It's going to have to be unremarkable, with the idea that if you get through it unscathed, that's remarkable enough.

I don't want to get downgraded to a broken, crawling failure before I cross that line in Christchurch.  

There's always the risk it'll go pear-shaped, but we don't really want to think about that, do we Bill?

The climate is against us. Bill's got the global economic storm menacing him from afar, while I've got cold southerlies and driving rain forecast. Bugger. All that training we did in fair weather, eh Bill?

I'm not uneasy, cos you just have to soldier on, conserve energy and make it through regardless.

I've had more advice than I know what to do with. I've trained to within 7km of the total distance so I know it is possible. I've got some gloves for the chill, my trusty comfy running socks, a bandanna to keep my ears warm, and $500 of support from you guys. (Thanks for that, generous people, it's for a good cause and any last-minute donations will spur the spirits)

There's no guarantees, everyone's hurting in this race and you just have to suck it up and finish the bastard. I read that somewhere.

No use for nerves now. They just send you awry. Focus on the steps to get through and do it methodically. That's what I'm good at.

I'd make a good finance minister. Steady as she goes, no flourishes, plan the run, run the plan. Sounds boring, but to be honest, with 42km through what sounds like a day of horizontal Cantabrian sleet, it's about the only plan that will work, I reckon.

Only one way to find out what's on the other side. There have been countless marathons before, countless people have done it, and countless stories have been told. One part of me says come on, if they can do it, so can you, it'll be a doddle. The other part is the one that remembers the ups and downs of training, the pain, the effort, the searing lactic acid in my thighs.

That's the part that knows exactly what it's worth.  

And on Sunday afternoon, hopefully I'll feel that worthiness coursing through me, alongside the feeling of what it cost me.

Thanks for all the supportive comments and advice. I'll tell you about it on Tuesday. If you're in Christchurch, I'll be in a red top, running number 94. Throw a snowball.

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