Prepare to be underwhelmed on an as-yet undefined scale of shodditude. I’m wildly behind. Wildly.
But you can also be prepared for a cheering inspirational last act, probably with the swell of a really well-packed orchestra behind it, so you know – bear with me. Ready? Ok.
First, the truly terrible news update.
My outcomes for this week were not good. I was busy. I was down. There was slight moping counterpointed by “Oh it doesn’t matter, I’m going on holiday” mode.
I’M IN THAILAND! All my moods are excellent and punctuated by a new, fierce regime of one-a-day drinks housed in tropical fruits. It’s also 27 degrees. I’ve injured my foot, apparently just by walking along as normal! I eventually got on a treadmill and managed a whopping 16 minutes before realising I still can’t run on a treadmill! I went swimming and “strengthened my core” by doing sit-ups in the gym and drinking the free water. Then I went sailing and read eight books. Sod it.
As above! Reading total peaks at 11. The extent of my running was going very fast down a water slide.
Back to the grind, in theory. I appear to have developed a fear of running in case it turns out all my limbs immediately fall off. I do the world’s most tragically lame run to work, and into an actual wall on the way. Later in the week, while proudly wearing my new Lidl compression socks (always insist on a trip to Lidl on a romantic weekend away!) I discovered that my old but still completely fine trainers have gone missing. What the hell! The weekend is also a write-off. I sing at a wedding with choir, and as further avoidance/panic spend four hours cleaning the flat on Sunday for house guest stray from Twitter.
It doesn’t look great, does it. On the bright side, my procrastination skills have really been honed in 2014.
One week of being depressed and busy? No running. Two weeks on holiday? Some vague treadmill action. First week back after holiday? One measly tragic run in which I ran into a wall.
The difference between me now, and me a few years ago, is that I can cope with it. Not because I have Grown As A Person but because there simply isn’t the choice to just not do it. And besides, I like running now. My body can do it. I will do it.
While I was away, I read a brilliant book about ultra-runners called Born To Run, recommended by Helen. It did what Running Like A Girl did almost a year ago: it removed the panic and added back some much-needed “Oh I can totally do this!” I’m running 26.2 miles. The people in this book run 300, and then 300 more because it’s a giggle and they are clearly mad.
All my posts about the marathon training so far have been depressing, or mopey, or “oh it’s so hard.” BORING. This book, and a surprisingly good run today (which is Week 10 so I won’t bang on about it too much), reminded me that running is supposed to be fun.
And it is! Look at this face!
I had LOADS of fun that day. And I’ve had loads of fun whenever I’ve done a race since – even if it’s been at lunch afterwards.
So no more mopey angry blog posts. Falf my running group seems to be injured right now. Are they going to give up? No. I’ve made things hard for myself, like a colossal idiot, but I’m still going to run the damn thing, and I’m not going to walk any of it. In fact, I’m going to run two half-marathons as well: Richmond next month, and Hackney in June.
The time of being half-arsed is over. The time for getting stuff done is now!* With a Tina and Amy gif**!
*Technically, it was when I started training, but I was still whingeing and fretting then.
** I read Bossypants on holiday. AMAZING. Dad! I still can’t believe you didn’t like it.
I’m running the 2014 London Marathon for Mind. Will you sponsor me? My page has a cat on it, if that helps either way.