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"Work expands to fill the time available for completion"

1000milesby 1000milesJun 1st 2014
Today is a significant day, it's the first day of June, the first day of the 'final month' countdown. 21 days to go.

True to form, I have left everything until the last minute. I am starting to wonder whether I am capable of doing it any other way. Even though it frustrates the hell out of me (and everyone around me) I am a slave to 'the fear'. Fortunately, 'the fear' has arrived. In a truck load. On my head.

After a number of prototypes - the trailer idea has been binned. What began as a seemingly simple concept turned into a living nightmare, one that crechendoed with me running down the street in my pyjamas at 9pm on a Tuesday with some uncontrollable wagon piling along after me. It became abundantly clear on this evening (after some rather impressive trailer back-flips) that this contraption was either going to kill me or some unwitting being that came within a 5 metre radius of it. So as to avoid all future law suits, the trailer was laid to rest that day. The next morning it was back to the drawing board. I decided that maybe pushing was better than pulling - maybe it was a metaphor for life? Or maybe not? Either way, I am now going to push a pram and appear to the general public to be a fitness-freak mum who has no regard for the welfare of her cargo (fortunately, mine will only consist of a tent and snacks).

At the very least, I do have a snazzy pair of trainers that will house and protect my most valuable piece of kit - my feet. Now I'm back training (and following the plantar/ enormous infected blister 'incidents') I'm paranoid about my feet. I've realised the importance of the role they play and how little thought I'd previously given them. If they don't make the 1000 miles, I don't make the 1000 miles. On account of this, they now get quite the daily treatment - a bludy good roll, a bit of a grate and some heavy-duty moisturising. Fancy.

My final law exams are also looming. I can't decide how I feel about the combination of these pressures. Part of me thinks, without the preoccupation of revision I would sit and obsess about what I've taken on and whether I'm capable enough to do it. This obsessing would be fruitless and could eventually rattle my nerve. The other part of me thinks, 'God, I wish I had more time to figure this run out. To talk to experienced people, to sort out the route, to at least know how to make a fire!'. But I don't, so that's that.

Physically, I know the hours sat in the library immobile, eating Dairy Milk Buttons, aren't conducive to the physical state I want to be in. I'm hoping that at this stage the rest isn't too detrimental. Plus, when I'm not revising, I do try to be outside and moving - which helps keep me sane and my body used to being busy.

All in all, things are manic but everything will come together. Because it has to.

The main thing I'm focusing on is suppressing the emotional roller coaster, something I think (I hope) I've finally got my head around. Rather oddly, I seem to have found some serene comfort in the knowledge that I've dug myself an inescapable ditch. This run is happening. Everyone knows about it.

In 21 days I will be standing in John O'Groats. Most probably, shitting myself.
 
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