There is a moment, no a whole time, when you can feel that ‘I can’t do this, I don’t even want to do this’ creep over you. That was me yesterday. I spent the entire day dreading the idea of the run in the evening with Attila. The last decent (for decent read more than 100 yards) run I did was with him at the end of October, hmmmmm a wee while ago. Let us also remember the amount of pringles, chardonnay and the like that has mysteriously found its way into my person in this time – way too much as my beloved pink jeans can attest.
So it is with something akin to glee that I notice that it’s raining at 4pm and send the man a message to remind him of said weather conditions and possibility of flash floods, tsunami type waves etc. Blackberry doesn’t cooperate (obviously in the pay of Attila) and won’t oblige by sending the message.
Am now faced with fashion dilemma (Oh God not again!). Do I wear my joggers and sweatshirt and risk getting wet, or do I opt for T shirt and waterproof. Both options hide the flab but it’s a case of weather now, what a to-do! Try on the latter and head for the door. Bloody cold outside so back upstairs to take off the t shirt and don the sweatshirt and the jacket due to rain.
Check phone and still not sent message and no nice message from Mr A to say that plan is rained off. There is nothing for it I have to go.
Drive to town and wait by the running track. Now realise that I’m already a tad warm in my sweatshirt/waterproof combo but can’t do without the jacket as raining. The simple solution would be to take off jacket, remove sweatshirt and replace jacket. That thought did cross my mind but was swiftly deleted when I remembered I was in Tigger and a 2 seater sports car is not the best place for an impromptu striptease. Nor was the fact that I was parked at the side of the main road a help in the circumstances. I just knew there would be a security camera trained on my car and I’d end up on one of those dreadful tv shows where some unfortunate is caught doing something perfectly innocent that looks a tad dodgy. Decide discretion better part and all that stuff and stay with the full outfit.
Attila arrives and I feel it is only fair to point out that I am very unfit (need I say this, the guy isn’t blind after all) and only want to run 4k. Will run to the 2k marker and back. He agrees and we set off at what I would call a brisk pace and he would probably call a crawl.
After the first five minutes I am panting but determined to keep up. The rain is being pretty determined too and I’m glad of the waterproof and the cap (did I mention the cap, oh yes I am all for the full prat look when running), am actually congratulating myself (silently of course don’t want Attila to think I am totally mad) on my choice of outfit.
Maybe I am now a tad over confident but when we reach the 2k marker I gasp that we should carry on. After what seems like an age and I feel sure the marker has been lost in the fast fading light I croak (yes I’m down to croaking now) that we really MUST turn at the 3k point and head for home. Attila smirks and says we are almost there.
A few steps (staggers) further on and I see the marker painted on the side of the track, strangely enough it says 4k and not 3k. Good Lord we ran right past the 3k marker and I didn’t even notice. More to the point Mr A didn’t bother to tell me.
Turn on heel try to hit Attila over head and haven’t the strength and we start the long run homeward.
Buoyed up by my achievement it takes me a little while to realise I am now sweating like the proverbial piggy and really, really hot. Whinge about this to A. Take off your hat is his advice. Point out that it is not my head that is dripping but rest of me. I am ignored. Take off hat and am surprised at the lovely cool breeze and how nice the rain feels on my sweaty hot face. Strangely the wet hat in my hand is cooling too and almost comforting to hold. Realise I am getting delusional and apply self to the job at hand. It is now sheer slog and a gritty determination is my only coping mechanism. That and the little mantra I am sing songing in my head. Won’t embarrass myself completely here but suffice to say it is something about being fit and fabulous.
We run on and it is now dark. You can see the houses outlines ahead and welcoming lights of the main road. They are like a lighthouse, a beacon drawing me in. The final push up the hill almost kills me and I feel like one of those tired out horses in the Cheltenham Gold Cup race struggling up the famous hill to the finishing line while the commentator points out that it looks like the poos beast is going backwards. I am that horse, I am going backwards.
We make it. We did it. I find enough strength to high five and jump about a bit. I’m as red as a radish and as sweaty as a pig, but by God I did it. A full 8k run, not bad for one whose only sporting activity for past three months has been popping the proverbial pringle tube.
I am now determined to run regularly again. I’ve got my mojo back. Wow it feels good.
Sorry to drivel on today but it feels so good, and I honestly didn’t think I could do this again.
Have a great weekend whatever you’re up to.