It’s 5.45 am, and I’m Boston-bound, lugging a carry-on packed with carbon plate trainers, gels, kit and electrolytes through Heathrow Terminal 5. I’ve got 45 minutes until boarding, so I grab my usual—a Pret porridge, protein pot and cappuccino—and settle down with my book near the departures board.
If you saw me, you’d probably assume I was off on an early summer holiday or sightseeing trip. But rather than heading Stateside purely to explore the historical Harvard campus, grab far too many Dunkin’ iced coffees and catch some games at Fenway Park, I’ll be lacing up to run the infamous Boston Marathon.
