Which was what I did during my first (and only) full marathon. Less than six months before the race, my hypothyroidism had been diagnosed, and I had subsequently gone through a hysterectomy. A couple of weeks before the race, I had fallen ill again, and was struggling to even climb stairs. And yet, come race day, I pinned up my bib, laced up my running shoes, and lined up with three thousand others at the start line. Less than mid-way into the race, I realised I could either keep running, or finish the race - I couldn't do both. I chose to start walking. Two-thirds into the race, the road was thrown open to traffic, and I got off the road and onto the pavement. People all around me dropped out, but my feet took on a life of their own and refused to stop till I crossed the finish line.
|On Bucket lists|
The rest of the month was no different. On most days, till lunch-time I would not have any idea what I was going to write about, but by evening, an idea would germinate, and the drabble would get written. Twenty-six non-Sunday days, twenty-six drabbles. None pre-scheduled. All posted before dinnertime. Almost all of them exactly 100 words on first attempt.
Which only goes to show that writing is a skill like any other, and practice does make you get better and better at it. If I could do it for the A to Z Challenge, I wonder why I can't do it otherwise. Maybe I just have to force myself into a chair for half an hour a day, Everyday!