Injury, procrastination and running a marathon in Ibiza

Avoiding my physio exercises and the utter joy of that finish line feeling

I planned to send this out before Christmas and took my laptop on the Eurostar so I could finish it while travelling to a weekend away with some friends. When I realised it was going to be about three times longer than expected I decided to push back posting it until the following week, not wanting to rush anything. Unfortunately, at some point on the journey home what I’d thought was just a post-Amsterdam hangover morphed into a full blown case of the flu and I’ve spent pretty much the whole festive period in bed.

The irony of my failure to publish on time a piece in which I talk at length about procrastination is not lost on me. The problem is, when you’re a bona fide chronic procrastinator you end up feeling a bit The Boy Who Cried Wolf even when you have a genuine reason for not doing something. But given that at various points during the past two weeks I’ve cried about the colour of my bedroom curtains, cried from the sheer effort of walking approx. two metres from my bed to the b…