6 am/ 4 miles/ About 50 days.
So, after a 20 day break I went for my first run. My lungs felt like steel, but I kept saying to myself that I know I can do this, It is hard, but I can do it. I listened to the radio on my phone…what did we do prior to mobile technology? I’m sure jogging with a ghetto blaster on my shoulder would be hard? (But AWESOME) Anyway, back from myself to me… I keep thinking how I need a new ipod with running head phones etc etc, but the truth is I don’t. It’s so easy to get hung up on all the accessories. I have decent phone (as in, it did well to get radio, it is also a camera- but a bit inconsistent and sometimes it also lets me answer calls- otherwise it is a rubbish phone) Anyway, it was a lovely revelation to listen to the radio and a fabulous distraction. It also was the first morning that felt like spring and my 2 jerseys, running jacket quickly proved too hot. There were even zealous, yellow daffodils shouting good morning like the terminally insane. But hey ho. I got home after 40 minutes, coughed for 10 minutes, did 100 sit ups (Ok, actually closer to 50…but I meant to do 100..so does that count? No?) Ok, did 50 sit ups and then went off to work.. still a little puce.
I think I quite like running in the morning and I was in a good mood on the way to work.. it slowly ran out through out the day- Rubbish Day At Work. I really think it is work that is going to be my biggest challenge in training as I cannot seem to leave on time as there is just so much to do at the moment, but I guess I need to learn that balance and if there aren’t enough hours in a day it is because there is too much work. I suppose it is legacy from my old job where lots of work was so rare I would just roll around in it, like the proverbial pig, but now that I’m in fashionable Covent Garden, dahling, and not in the back waters of rural Heathrow,innit, my farmyard lessons will probably need to evolve.
Anyway, it’s now the weekend (TF) and I will need to do a 6 miler and an 8 miler through Richmond on Sunday (NTF). I mean, I’m sure I can train for my first half marathon in a week… 13 miles (lol, keep thinking it’s like 10 and then freak when I realise that I have to run my 6 mile route more than twice…and still can’t even run the 6 mile route- doh! And I have done this mental process more than once, I am sometimes seriously special in my mental capacity- you’d think I’d just realise once that it is far, instead of realising it again and again like the goldfish with the gammy fin) Hopefuly I won’t come last. I think if I didn’t have a pathological fear of being the last one (I’d rather not finish), I’d not worry about the race and let my time be what it will. But my problem is I am really competitive…. AND then, seasoned runners, turn to me and say how they’ve done several half’s and ‘My word, they are harder then they seem!’ LIKE THAT HELPS!
*Sigh* but do you know what? I am actually really loving my life at the moment. I find it very funny about the marathon, knowing how I am going dine out on the story for so long!
But then I recognise the humour, I believe the medical term is called Gallow Humour, mostly common in people en route to the hang man scaffold… but sometimes present in people coming to the realisation that they are going to have to run everyday for the next week. And then the same again the week after that. And the week after that. Increasing the distance, the pace. Everytime. So I guess I’m not on the gallows. I’m just practising it. Like the condemned, but they only walk to the scaffold once. I’ll be doing it every morning, until the 17th of April and only then will it be over. Only then can I have the last supper… hmmm, I wonder what I should have… Seeeee??? I’m doing it again! Even now I can find something blaadddy positive about my imminent demise and pain. Damn my lack of attention, damn it! As soon as I grasp how hard my life has to get, the quicker I forget it…