Sometimes in life you have to take that leap of faith. A metaphorical stumble into the unknown, blindingly hoping. As I stood on the edge of a bridge in New Zealand about to take a literal leap, with nothing but bungee rope to stop me from plunging to my death, I couldn’t help but think about when leap of faiths have done wrong. A few days before at the Queenstown Marathon I had jumped only to fall, a mistake entirely of my own making but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Before I left for the Rome Marathon I watched a documentary called Spirit of the Marathon 2 which is about the Rome Marathon from the prospective of a few runners. In a short scene it showed two local runners in a park surrounded by ruins and sunshine. I knew then that when I got to Rome I would run there, only problem was I had no idea where it was.
“You’re from England? Me too!” In that split second a bond is created, instant friendship. This is a curious tale of making friends whilst travelling. I arrived in India with two brilliant travelling companions, my cousin and my best friend. […]
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