• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 03
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13.1 – Only Half crazy

Foamy mountains grow around the waterfall cascading from the tap.
My sweat soaked clothes are piled up in the corner. With a smile of a happy idiot, I sit on the side of the bath. Naked. “13.1 – I’m Only Half crazy” says the slogan of my wet top. I would argue with that. I think I’m a total nut case.
I measure a generous portion of Epson salts into a bath and stir with my hand.
The water is steaming, in contrast, to the side of the bathtub that I’m sitting on. It’s cold. Refreshing. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, I’m face and body flushed. Too hot. Too tired. Can barely move.
When the water reaches the level and the bathroom mirror disappears in the hot mist, I step in. My knees are locked, every move is a torture.
I suspend myself above the bath on my hands and ease my exhausted body in. A sigh of relief mixed with pain runs through the foamy mountains, as water stings every chafed part, every blister and each of my lovely toes that has just sustained a continuous hammering against the pavement for the period of 2 hours, 42 minutes and 15 seconds.
As I soak in the heat penetrating deep into my muscles, my phone buzzes on the side. It’s my running buddy. Today was her first Half too. We ran, socially distanced, of course, 50 miles apart, but together in spirit.
“How are you?” flashes on the screen.
I reply with a picture of my pedicured toes peeking from under the abundance of the bath bubbles.
She sends me a smiley face and a photo. A view of a pointy knees sticking out from the bubble-bath and a foam-covered hand holding a peanut butter and banana sandwich.


13.1 – Only Half crazy

“Yum!” I reply, glancing at the bathroom stand which hosts my cup of coffee and half eaten sandwich.
“How are you feeling?”
“Dead! In Pain! Excited!” I shoot one message after another. “But honestly, so chuffed! Can’t believe we’ve actually done it!”
“Me too! So proud of us!”
“Never again though!”
I sit in a bath until the water grows cold and my children start banging on the door telling me they want lunch.
Wincing in pain, I heave myself out of the bath, pull on a bath robe and stagger into the hall on the straight legs. I stand for some time by the staircase, thinking I should probably camp downstairs, on the couch, until my legs recover.
Phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Farnborough half in 3 months?”
“Are you crazy? We just done one!”
“Only Half crazy, remember?”
“Half crazy it is!”