victor martinez
victor martinez's Fundraising Page
Fundraising for Trees for Cities
Story
Thanks for visiting my fundraising page.
Yes I running for tree, because they don't have legs, and everybody is always running for mobile objects. The chant is less-starbucks more trees.I mean how many cafe-mocachinos do we really need.The point is we all need more green things in our lives, its a fact that as cities become less green people seem to become more detached from both themselves and other people, we just need balance.
Donating through Justgiving is quick, easy and totally secure. It’s also the most efficient way to sponsor me: Trees for Cities gets your money faster and, if you’re a UK taxpayer, Justgiving makes sure 25% in Gift Aid, plus a 3% supplement, are added to your donation.
So please sponsor me now!
Thanks to all who sponsored me and gave words of support for my first half marathon race.
Basically it pissed it down , no worse than that, it was as if god had come in drunk that day and mistook the earth for the celestial toilet bowl. After getting up at 6,00am in the morning London underground decided that North Greenwich station should close down for the day ( the one where the race starts from). So all 3,000 runners had to alight two stops before and make their own way to the start. No replacement buses had been put on, and it was a Sunday service. So some runners added on an extra 3 miles to their run. God helps us when the Olympics come to town.
Finally at the race, the skies decided to go from wet to thick sticky wet, the kind of rain you find gets in-between the watch face and the glass and makes it foggy for the rest of its sad mechanical life.
Any how the race was on and after 10 miles of running at a steady pace with mild to slight discomfort, my ankle (lets call it this one bob) decided to say fuck this for an easy day in watching Hollyoaks and gave up completely. I mean if it could have disconnected itself from the rest of my body it would have, and had a cheeky pint of the black stuff at the Cutty Sark, Greenwich. Instead bob just hung lifeless and teased me with excruciating pain as a reminder of me putting him in such a vile situation.
The problem is that my other ankle (lets call him dobs) decided that bobs attitude was out of order, I mean why should he have to put up with extra weight, its not like he is getting over time for this, not even a christmas bonus, or a brand new pair of shiny brogues to wear. So he decided to join the picket line and hurl painful abuse at the rest of my body. It felt like i was running on open stumps rather than feet.
Basically only 3 miles from the end I looked as if Steven Hawkings had just noticed that he could walk, but was out of practice. But I soldered on. Only to be abused by some fat S.E london chav kids eating crisp and drinking Tizer (if ever a drink was suited to the salt of the earth..)
'Your ment to run the race not hop it.."
I thanked them for this bit of information as somewhere around the 10th mile I must have forgotten why the fuck I was there ... the little shits!
As i crossed the finish line i was a broken man. Looking like I'd come out of a scene from Cold Mountain, an injured soldiers from the American civil war returning home. Some of the crowds cheered me to a heroes welcome , while others diverted their gaze, the horror the horror!
One child offered me a flower, i bent down with the last ounce of energy left in me - 'Its alright now .. your home mister'
A tear ran down my cheeks but it was washed away by the rain.