It's A Race to the Finish

My friend has entered me for the Brussels 20k road race. Following a very foolish and not -entirely-serious conversation about wanting to get fit over coffee about a month ago, she went off, and without mentioning her intentions again, secured a number for me - for which I have the privilege of paying 7 euros 45 cents. So it seems that I have approximately 30 days in which to go from wheezing around the park at a leisurely pace to accomplishing a half marathon.

Well, I know we are all supposed to relish challenges and I suppose I do have a stubborn streak...BUT....this seems like a major commitment. Moreover, I'd always harboured ambitions to make it to the age of 28 instead of keeling over on the kerb from dehydration, since this was the age my tarot-reading aunt (whose psychic abilities have been confirmed by a number of friends and relatives) assured me I would meet the love of my life. Having said that, the world being a cynical place, it might be better to die before you give up hope of that ever happening.

However I have discovered of late that I am indeed capable of enduring long periods of unpleasantness. The fiasco over my latest batch of essays (incomprehensible philosophical polysyllables dictated by a German pedant combined with the longest working hours in the history of mankind) which led me to shut myself in my room for the best part of three days reveals this, I think. Therefore, I am quietly confident that if I can cope with Habermas without having jumped out of the window to end it all, then I should be able to muster up the self-discipline to go running around the city. Even if I don't finish the course til the next morning!... Anyone else survived such an experience?