Its dark these days

I guess it is a fairly ridiculous notion. The fact that so many people have now done a marathon diminishes the achievement somewhat - talk of ultras and the like not helping either. Yet its still 26 miles. Its still a heck of a long way. How can someone with a dodgy back (which seems to be getting worse, not better, with the exercise) a couple of damaged lungs (the deathly rattle which awakens me each morning still being there after lord knows how many months now) and a wine belly which has taken years (and thousands of pounds) to perfect possibly drag his ancient frame so far. After puffing around a little over three miles last night, I just don't think its going to be possible. It seems so unlikely, so easy just to capitulate and opt for the easy life (as I so often do in other ways). Why put myself through this for a start? All relevant questions. But then why did we persist with the adoption process? We could have stayed in a very comfortable life with nothing to concern ourselves beyond planning the next citybreak. The answer has to be a rare form of masochism. A bloody-minded stubborn-ness which drives us on to do things which takes life down an altogether more pitted road. Almost relentless inclines with what seems like the briefest of moments to enjoy the view after any number of false horizons. No, from here I'm not sure I can do this. Its a long, long way. But then, I can look at our adopoted son snuggled under my left arm as I write this, and think exactly the same. As I did any number of times in the first few weeks he and his sister came to live with us. And in a minute I shall post this message, get their breakfast ready, wash them, brush teeth, dress them and get them ready to face the world. Its the only way. Another small step on the road. Masochists unite. Total mileage to date: 21.63, alcohol intake: never enough.