I'm Martin Pampel, 27 years young, living in Essex, or 'London' when too sheepish to admit coming from Essex, and I am running the
I am hoping to raise as much money as possible for the Royal National Institute for the Deaf, henceforth referred to as the RNID (Look, I'm going to be running 26.2 miles, I can't afford to waste all my limited energy typing in each letter of the charity's name).
The RNID (Okay, fine, the Royal National Institute for the Deaf) is a truly fantastic charity. It is the largest charity in the United Kingdom that deals with hearing loss. They are committed to providing a range of services and information for people who are deaf or hard of hearing. The many things they do include developing technology, carrying out research into deafness and campaigning for change in order to bring about a better future for Britain's deaf. 1 in 7 people in Britain are either deaf or hard of hearing. If my 'B' in GCSE Mathematics hasn't failed me, that is approximately nine million people. Rather a lot. As our population increases in age, so too, will the number of people experiencing problems with their hearing, whether due to the onset of old age, illness, prolonged exposure to loud music/noise, or some other unspecified personal reason (misuse of cotton buds perhaps?)
I have my own reasons for supporting the RNID. I was born with a hearing loss (a bilateral, profound, congential, sensorineural hearing loss if you want to get specific). I was able to get by in my formative years. It wasn't easy at all, but I managed, with special thanks to my parents, family and teachers over the years. Then when I was 17, I suddenly lost the rest of my hearing. Gone. Vanished. Just like that. During this immensely difficult and stressful time when I was at my lowest ebb (quick, get the violins out), the RNID were able to offer me some support. For this, I am eternally grateful and so it is my fervent wish to be able to repay them for their help. Not only that, though. I want to help them to help other people around the country who are afflicted with various hearing problems. OK, it's not exactly cancer, and you can't die of deafness, but it can be a terrible burden to those who suffer from it. Take it from me. Through all that I've endured though, I think I've been quite lucky and there are plenty of other deaf people out there who have been less fortunate than me, so I hope that by running 26.2 miles, I will somehow be able to make a world of difference to these people's lives.
To be honest, it never occured to me to start writing a blog about my marathon training and progress, but I was reliably informed that it would be a useful tool for promoting my cause and could possibly be conducive to getting more sponsorship. Or perhaps not, but at the very least, it might give all six people reading this page something to laugh about.
So you're probably all asking: "You couldn't possibly run a marathon if your life depended on it. Whatever possessed you to decide to run a marathon?"
The reasons are many. I was a bit bored with my life, this torpid, meandering, pitiful existence. I felt it wasn't really going anywhere, completely lacking in momentum. The only thing I seemed to live for was my job, enjoyable as it is, and so I felt it was time for a change. I needed a new challenge and something else to focus on. I must have been going through a mid-life crisis or something (yes, at the tender age of 26).
I said to myself: "Right, I'm going to do something good with my life. I'm going to do something charitable and make a contribution to the lives of others. I'm going to do the decent thing for once."
Around this time, the 2010 London Marathon took place. I travelled into London to watch my uncle and cousin run the marathon and cheer them on. This was the first time that I had seen the event with my own eyes, instead of on the telly, and it genuinely inspired me. I suppose it is like watching Spurs play football. On TV, it can be the most boring, mind-numbing tedium ever, but when you're in the stadium, seeing it all happen live, you get caught up in the atmosphere. You're no longer squirming at the pathetic Keystone Cops-esque defending; you're watching an exhilarating display of world class football by some of the most seasoned and talented players ever to grace the beautiful game.
From my vantage point outside the HSBC Tower in Canary Wharf, roughly at the 18-mile point of the race, I was able to see a veritable plethora of runners passing by. There were serious runners, there were fun runners, there were old runners, young funners, fit runners, fat runners, the whole gamut. Seeing people older and clearly less fit than me being able to do all this running made me think that I could probably do that too, given the right amount of training and effort.
So I applied for the next year's marathon (next year now being this calendar year, just to clarify). I filled in the application form half-jokingly, not expecting to get accepted. So, a few months down the line, lo and behold, I receive an email telling me that I have been accepted by my chosen charity. Mixed feelings here. At first, I'm excited. My heart skips a beat. Then shocked. My jaw drops to the floor and my eyes burst out of their sockets as if this were a Tex Avery cartoon. Then I become nervous. Then uncertain. Then worried. Then fearful. Then apprehensive. I may have bitten off more than I can chew. "What an incredible opportunity," I think to myself. "Don't bugger this up."
Thus begins my training, which I'll discuss in excruciatingly unnecessary detail next time (much as I have done with this post so far actually).
To cut a long story short, thanks for reading and following my progress from sedentary slob to marathon man.
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