Things were all going badly. I’d totally lost interest in my motorbikes and I couldn’t sell them. Work looked like they were messing me about on purpose so I was looking for another job. And my achilles was limiting me, and I was quitting in advance, not even attempting the Blackpool marathon.
The agency have been creeping my start times earlier and earlier. Last week they gave me an 05.20 start. I decided to draw the line before they had me on 02.00 starts. I declined the shift. This week they only gave me two shifts, both of them 05.00 – 06.00. I was sure it was on purpose. Either do it, or get no work. I declined them. I thought they wouldn’t give me any work for the whole week. I was looking at other jobs, which made me sad because this is the best one. You know your shifts a week in advance and get a finish time. The money is good and I get a lot of downtime, which is also nice, but mainly knowing your home time. Anyway, they gave in first and gave me three shifts, two 09.00 starts and a sucky one that starts at 13.10, but I’ll let that slide. I don’t need to get another job! A different, full time, driving job would suck in many ways. Virtually every other driving job wants 12 hours out of you each day, and you just never know when you are going home. My training would go out the window. So, happy to be staying here.
I was looking at maybe doing an brand name Ironman next year after LEJOG, when I should have legs of steel. Quick glance said it’s £700! Bloody hell! I was rabbit-holing then, so I looked for cheap ones. There’s one at the end of August for £250. I mentioned it to Wendy, and she casually remarked that I’m not doing marathons at the moment. For some reason that was all it took. I had planned on skipping Blackpool marathon on Sunday, and I was worried as my BPD is getting less with age, so is my willingness to suffer and persevere. When she said that my brain switched on again. I’m doing it. It’s going to hurt and it’s not going to be a great time, but I’m not quitting before I start.
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