So, I was at my Friday morning circuit class yesterday morning, the 8.30 one, the one I never, ever miss and I was at the star jumps station when the woman at the next station (something to do with shoulders) said, ‘So where were you last week?’
And you know, I had to think for a moment. Where was I? ‘I was somewhere,’ I said, asking my brain to co-operate, and then I remembered…
that first of all, we got into the car extremely early indeed.
We drove out of Abu Dhabi.
Until we got to Dubai, where I registered.
And then I ran.
All the way to the top of this.
And that, my friends, is an event on which I cannot believe I am reporting. Me. Running.
The statistics: 52 floors, 1,334 steps, 16 minutes.
That day, the day I ran a Vertical Marathon, it was my mum’s birthday, and she would’ve been 63 which is the age my dad was when he died. Somehow or other it all seemed to fit together in a way that made me think less about sadness and more about the depth of things.
PS See up there in that photo of all of us – that baby carrier on the back of the man behind us? There was a child in that when that man did his run.