Running with Sarah. Part I.

This is a post for English speakers. I ought it to my non Italian friends.

Moreover, if it were in Italian, the title character of this post wouldn't have understood a word. Which wasn't that bad, actually.

Sarah is one of my flatmates in London (the other being Elisa, an Italian girl).

As you might know, I'm attending a secondment in an English law firm. Such firm is associated to the one I'm working for in Milan.

I'm also in London for running the marathon next 17 April. Ok, let's tell the truth here, at least. I'm in London for running the marathon. I just needed a reason to be here for my boss.

This blog was created to help me fundraising for EEIBA, a charity which I support together with a team of other six people. We're the fantastic seven. Or the wild bunch, if you like better that movie instead.
Here it is our justgiving page:
http://www.justgiving.com/Rexel-UK-Green-Team
Please, feel free to help.

In this blog, there's usually space for tales of the training to London, to Veron (an half marathon I ran one month ago in 1h23m27s), and to Milan (a relay marathon I'm running next 10 April).

Wow, I summarized three months of blog in two paragraph. It's easy to be short, when you don't know the language.

Today I should have ran 21 km for the marathon. Not too much, compared to the 36 km of last Sunday.

I couldn't run them. I mean, it was not possible for my body to run it. Not that they were too heavy, or too fast. They were just following a week of junk food and beer. My first week in London.

Wednesday, a lawyer of the office thrown a party cause he was leaving. Thursday, St. Patrick's Day. Friday, meeting some friends. Saturday is Saturday. And today, my girlfriend was leaving London.

This morning I woke up at 7.30. I knew that I couldnd't run 21 km. Though, I wanted to give myself a chance.

First, 4 km quite slow, at an average of about 4'40'' per km. Warming up. Then the fast run started. I was supposed to run 17 km under 4'20'' per km.

Since I'm new in London, the city needs to be discovered. I went east from where I'm living (Battersea Park), last Sunday. Westminster, the London Tower, the Tower Bridge, and all that stuff. Today I went west.

East is better. I passed beautiful houses, but also a factory and a modern hotel before getting to Wandsworth Park. Nice view, but nothing compared to Battersea and the Chelsea Embankment. I realized that I couldn't go further. The beer of the night before was killing my legs. And the bad-looking area wasn't helping.

Go back home, Valerio. Go back home.

I went back home.

When the watch stopped, the timing was ok: the last km were run at an average of 4'18'' per km. The length was a disaster: 11 km.

I needed help. During the day I was off. I needed a reason to go out also in the evening. With someone, possibly.

"Sarah, I was planning to go out running, this evening. Would you like to go together?"

A lie. My first week in London and I'm lying to my British flatmate. What will she think about Italians?

I wasn't planning to run in the evening. My body begged me not to go.

"Ok", she said.

I'm screwed.

[tomorrow the end]