Why do I do it?
I ponder this question every time I haul on the trainers and see my unfortunate reflection in the mirror, running trousers are somewhat unforgiving.
I ponder this question at the start of the run when I can’t get my breathing right. I heave myself forward and look around for distraction. I can’t speak yet as I haven’t the breath.
I ponder this question in mid run when I start to get tired and wish to God that the damn run was over with. I chatter to distract myself from the almost overwhelming urge to throw myself into the flowers and bushes at the side of the path and just pass out.
I ponder this question when I get home and my feet ache and I have to prop them up on pillows. They burn, I look at them and wonder (sorry I am pondering here not wondering) how much more these poor over operated on and battered feet can take.
I ponder this question when I am stiff and sore the next morning. When I stagger downstairs in a weird sideways fashion because it is easier than bending my knees too much.
I am in this bloody pond a lot aren’t I?
But there is one time when I am not pondering in the pond. When I finish the run and leap about (for a split second before I flop on to my bum and gasp for breath) and whoop, “Whoopeee DONE it!”.
Attila and I are running in the Great Scottish Run in Glasgow at the begining of next month. It is the 10k run I did last year. I’m looking forward to it. We run 10k at least once a week in our training.
What I am not looking forward to is the threat of taking part in a half marathon at end of September. Woah there, that is more than double my 10k distance and will take way over 2 hours. I’ll be honest here, this is scaring me and I don’t really want to do it.
Maybe I just won’t…..
Weekend off running, whew!