Well, it's certainly not a sprint...

Marathon training is long. And I don't even mean long like 26.2 miles. I mean 'long' like British slang for tiresome, tedious, is it really worth it? long. But, of course it is, and I am very glad that I haven't given up up to now... even though I am quite sure that the worst is yet to come.

My long run is getting longer (now we are talking distance... do try to keep up!). This weekend, I tore through 23.5km. I run so slowly, sometimes I think it's a bit of a liberal interpretation to even be saying 'run'. But for now, I suppose I just need to work on building up the distance.

Here's my watch, isn't she lovely? I got her for my birthday and she does all sorts of things that you couldn't imagine and I am yet to discover.

I'm still running without music, and lately I've been running without company too as my running buddies have been injured or on missions (yup, they actually call it that in my job, it never gets old). It's not too boring though, Tunisia keeps me busy, early in the morning there are stray dogs to avoid, then as people start to wake up there's lots of honking and, what shall we call it?, verbal encouragement. The cars that take their time to loop the next roundabout and drive past you again to make sure you heard their helpful jeers - they are the ones that really spur you on. But sometimes (rarely) I'm impressed. Yesterday, a big car of girls drove past me and one shouted out:

Prends un taxi, Madame!!

Thanks Tunisia, I like. She got a little smile.

Also keeping me busy is the ill-maintained pavement and the narrow pedestrian walkways. I took a little tumble this week, not too bad, but it really taught me the importance of running with a phone and money, just in case. I cut all the palms of my hands, which has been very troublesome, as it's been a week of professional success, and I keep eagerly high-fiving people before remembering the hard way about the damage to my hands. This is also hindering my handstand practice.

I also cut my elbow and arm quite badly, and it's amusingly disgusting. The other day the blood/puss combo saturated the plaster on my arm and even seeped through my coat lining making a visible blood stain on the outside of my beige coat. Incredible. The silver lining to this cloud, of course, is that in a weeks time I'll have some fantastic scab-picking to get on with. The anticipation killing me, but I think we all know that if you go at a scab too early, you only regret it.

And that, boys and girls, is me done for the night. xx