Why are you doing it?

Haven't heard from MGF S for a while. Not since I announced my 1,000km challenge and started writing this blog. Admittedly, it's not as if we meet every day. You see, S lives in HK and, in all honesty, it is MGF D, her better half, who I speak with regularly. And yet, I did expect to hear from her. You see, S is one of the most generous people you'll ever meet, so I thought charity and all would strike a chord.

Anyway, I mentioned this to D earlier today and was met with deadly silence. You know, one of those uncomfortable moments when you know you stummbled on something you shouldn't have. It appears that the reason for the radio silence is that S does not appreciate blogging that much. In fact, she considers the fact that I am addressing the unknown masses and sharing with you all my inner-most secrets, an indication that I lost my marbles. You see S is one of the few people I've managed to deceive into believing I had marbles.

Now, the young boy in me was hurt. I always blame him for my less than mature behaviour. "Me losing my marbles? What's wrong with S! Is writing a blog too common for her?" However, as I was running today, I asked myself: "Why the hell are you doing it? Why AM I writing this blog?"

I know why I started, and there is no nice way of saying it: manipulation. Worse still, I was trying to manipulate the few people who've been kind enough to know me relatively well. You see, as I was asking people to empty their pockets for charity, I thought I would get more buy-in if I managed to establish an emotional attachment . If I got you hooked, I thought I would get you to fork out more. This blog was supposed to be the hook.

The reason I am carrying on is different. [And for all of you expecting remorse and an apology for the attempted manipulation, I am sorry to disappoint. I would do it all over again to raise £10,000 for the NSPCC. ] The reason is, I have found the joy of writing.

Until January 1st, I've never written anything more poetic than a cheque. I always wanted to but it never worked out. Being somewhat self conscious I had two concerns. First, what am I going to write? A novel? You gotta be kidding me. Poetry? Is there anything more pretentious? A letter? Pity the poor sod who's gonna have to read it. Which brings me to the second concern, who will I write to? The drawer? I don't have one. The newspaper? Come on! As if anyone who doesn't care for me would really want to read anything I write. This blog is giving me the perfect medium. I can pretend I have an audience (thank you, if you are out there) yet allow me to feel I am not imposing. It is open to whoever wants to read it but will never be read by anyone I wouldn't want them to.

So, for giving me the excuse for writing and the pretence that I am not alone out here, I thanks you all.

J

PS 200km down. 800km to go.