WHO’S GONNA DRIVE YOU HOME?

Dear fans,

Here I am again. Ten days after my last post. What a wanker.

I would really like to begin – once again – by apologising for my absence from this blog but as you can imagine I have been very… erm… very… – what’s that word again? Oh yeah… – busy! Very very busy.

Another untalented actor playing me, being very busy.

Being a full-time boozer, a full-time worker, a full-time celebrity blogger and a full-time runner is not that easy. Especially in that order… I am trying my best though, and you should know it. And just in case you’re wondering: my best is good enough. Ask your sisters. Waaaayyyyyy.

Now that you’ve asked them – … –  it’s time to move on and talk about the marathon.

May 27th is getting terribly closer: both my knees are pretty much fucked up- we’ll get there -, I am not even close to the £500 Save the Children asked me to fundraise, the weather in Edinburgh is shite and going for a run at 7.30 pm or even later after a full shift at work most of the times is just wrong.

At that time – and especially after a full shift at work – all you – Me, in this case – want to do is to go for a pint. But it’s never just one pint. It’s never just two pints either. It’s not even three, to be honest. You know that it’s more than likely six or seven, and a couple of double rum&cokes, and some shots inbetween. But you still think that’s acceptable. Until you find yourself – Myself, in this case – a few hours and a shit load of pounds later at the casino, sipping Tennent’s at the bar with your arse glued to a stool while your mates waste their money and hopes at the blackjack table, with a brand new nine-hours shift at work in something like two and half hours and an extremely annoying Talking Cricket next to you – mine looks exactly like the Fresh Prince’s mom… – reminding you that you should be training and not getting Charlie Sheened and asking you how did you get here? and who’s gonna drive you home? and where did you put the keys? and where’s the nearest chippie and would it still be open? and shit like that.

What a shame that you don’t have any of those answers. Especially the only one we all care about: the one about the food…

So yeah – long story short – I don’t have idea when or how or why I got home from the casino the other night but I do remember how I got home from my last run exactly a week ago.

It was last thursday: April 10th, 47 days to the marathon, 8-ish pm. I am on fire and I am halfway through the training. I’ve got almost all the way to Musselburgh – almost – via Arthur’s Seat and Duddingstone – same old route – and I am literally flying home. A big smile on my face, an amazing outfit – as always -, good tunes in my ears and I am loving every single second of this training session. Especially the bit on the Portobello Promenade: cold wind, rough sea and a bit of rain just the way I like it. Not joking. I am on Portobello Road now and I’ve put 8,2 miles under my heels in 1h10m. Not too bad. There’s only one problem: for the last 10/15 minutes my right knee has been a bit of a dick and for the last 5 minutes so has been his left pal. Annoying but tolerable. I am still on Portobello Road – almost on London Road – when I run past Morrisons and suddenly they both collapse. Both my fucking knees stop working at the same time!!!

Thursday's route, up till the moment my knees decided they'd had enough.

I am raging. Raging, scared as fuck and in a lot of pain. I am on the other side of Edinburgh – kind of -, something like 4 miles away from home, with no money and no phone on me, covered in sweat, wet because of the rain and immobilized.

How I felt at the time.

After a wee break at a bus stop I somehow make my way to James and Louise’s flat. Here I get a pint of water, a knee support – which I was meant to get anyway since my right knee has been giving me troubles for about 7 years now… – and a good chat. Thanks guys. When I leave the flat I am still in pain but I manage to walk and I get to the Scottish Parliament. It took me a good ten minutes but still… Then – believe it or not – the mp3 player plays this song. I swear to God it did. I wish I could tell you that a cab appeared straight after that but I can’t. I had to wait a couple of minutes – while it was still raining, I was still in pain and I was still sweating like Walter Pandiani in his memorable press conference – but eventually I managed to get one and got home safely and I can asnwer the question in the title. HIM!

Unfortunately I still don’t know how I got home from the casino but I want to say that the cabbie was sound and waited for me downstairs while I was getting the money – Cheers Marcus! – and wished me luck and everything.

So yeah: I went for a run and I got home by taxi.

A fucking celebrity, that’s what I am.

BORN TO RUN

Dear fannies,

Sorry, fans. FANS!

Dear fans,

This post is for you. About you and for you.

I know I called it “Born to run” and that’s clearly about me because I am the one that is running and you are just sitting on your couch all day eating crisps and drinking Irn Bru while watching Britain’s got talent because it always takes me ages to update this blog but trust me, this post is for you.

You know, I realized that I don’t thank you enough and that I don’t spend enough time with you so I would love to make it up to you. But then again if you think about it God himself doesn’t spend much time with his fans so you can’t really be too mad at me. It’s just that is too many of you and – I’m not gonna lie – some of you come from country I didn’t even know they existed until I read their names – Yes, I can see the country you visit my blog from! – in the stats. Like Papua New Guinea. P-A-P-U-A-N-E-W-G-U-I-N-E-A!!!

Now don't do that "Aw.. THAT Papua New Guinea..." to me...

Well you, my friend from Papua New Guinea, are my favourite fan.

I don’t know you and I don’t know how did you happen to come and read this blog but I love you. I mean I love you all guys but seriously, Papua New Guinea? I have to love him/her more than anyonelse.

Yes, more than anyonelse. I love him/her even more than Bruce. My good old friend Bruce. Bruce who wrote a song – and named an album after it – for me, Riccardo Hank Lenoci, celebrating my love and passion and dedication to this marathon. Bruce who sent me a signed copy of his great seller album and didn’t even charge me for the delivery. Bruce who became millionaire thanks to this song and promised to sponsor me.

The signed copy of "Born to Run" I got from my good pal Bruce Springsteen.

Yes, my Papua New Guinean friend, I love you more than him.

I definitely love you, all of you, more than Junio. It doesn’t matter that he’s got a cool blog. I just don’t love him that much anymore after he told me that he still doesn’t believe I will run this marathon. According to him I drink too much. I don’t eat healthy food. I don’t train enough. And again I drink too much. He thinks that if I will really take part in this marathon I will end up like this.

Me, according to Junio, halfway through the marathon, at best.

He appreciates my efforts though – that’s what ladies tell me too… – and I always make sure I go and visit him at work on my way home from my run – all sweaty and stinky in my super-cool running outfit which by the way looks awesome and it’s even better now that I bought some professional-ish stuff to wear underneath the t-shirt and the shorts – to show him that I am totally going to do it but, still, he reckons I won’t. Luckily most of you believe in me and I am sure that you’re all just waiting for the next pay day to sponsor me with a donation here or by cash. Smiley face.

By the way I want to thank my sister Valeria, together with my mum and dad, Ale and his family and Robyn – Robyn darling I am waiting for some more cash sponsorship to send a reasonable cheque to Save the Children 😉 – for their donations. Thank you all guys I really appreciate your support!!!

I promise I will… sorry I just got an email from my second biggest fan that would love to tell Junio that I am totally gonna run the marathon and that I am awesome as well and that his blog is quality but still he would love him to see this.

My second biggest fan supporting me at his best.

Right what was I saying? Erm… Well I don’t really remember and anyway The Gladiator just started on the telly and my laptop’s battery is dying and my pizza is almost ready and my can of Tennent’s is almost gone so yeah, I’ll talk to you soon.

Love, Riccardo.