*This post first appeared on The Guardian Online
Every Saturday morning, I set out on my London Marathon training run. Every Saturday morning, I fall flat on my face.
Sometimes I slip on a wet drain cover. Sometimes I slip in mud. Sometimes I slip on soggy leaves, and sometimes I slip in dog shit. Quite often I don’t need a slippery surface. Weary legs, uneven paving stones and rogue twigs have all caused me to fall, and I spend a lot of time on the pavement, with bleeding hands and grit in my knees. But I pick myself up, brush myself off, and keep going.