My first thought was, ‘Can I afford it?’ Checked the website. It’s £79 to confirm my spot. That’s 2x what the London marathon entry costs. I’d take the London marathon over this any day, even without the price difference. But I don’t have a spot in the London marathon; I have a spot in this. Also, I’ve run the London marathon twice but never ridden this event. R has ridden this twice and used to suggest that I will enjoy it.
Checking the registration price was not to decide if I should pay the entry fee. I had already made that decision. I’ll pay. The price check was to see how big the hole would be.
The entry fee isn’t the big expense for this ride. Maintaining and fuelling the bike and the body through the wear and tear of training will cost a lot more. Maybe I can go all indie and start experimenting with home-made food on rides. I fully plan to employ R as my free bike mechanic—given her training and access to tools in her job. The event is in August, so I can delay starting training till after the Paris marathon in April. That delay will help since then I don’t need a lot of winter riding gear. My one cycling jacket and one long tights should suffice for the few cold rides I’ll suffer.
Writing this down has helped calm the anxiety a bit. It’s doable. It’ll be a stretch on the money, time and energy, but it’s doable.
I don’t have money, and I need a lot. So, I need to save money.
I have strict work and personal relations targets this year. They require me to be very focused, and not squander time or attention. I need to be frugal with my time and cognitive capacity this year.
I have set myself a target for running time, and I have an entry in London Marathon to address last year’s failings. Combined with demands for attention on work and relationships, I can’t afford to waste time or energy this year. I need to be frugal with my physical and mental energy, as well as with time.
I weigh too much, having gained 10 kg in the 7 months since the ankle injury. I need to lose weight, eat frugally.
Money may change everything, as Cyndi Lauper sang. But lack of money definitely ruins everything.
Financial impotence casts a pall of misery. It keeps you up at night and makes you not want to get up in the morning. It forces you to recede from the world. It eats at your sense of self-worth, your confidence, your energy, and, worst of all, your hope. It is ruinous to relationships, turning spouses against each other in tirades of calumny and recrimination, and even children against parents…
Financial insecurity is associated with depression, anxiety, and a loss of personal control that leads to marital difficulties…
“Instead of showing you can afford to spend money, you’re showing you can afford to spend your social capital… You’re saying, I’m so autonomous and successful that I can afford to dress in a nonconforming way.”
You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.