I’m aware that lately I may be coming across as a bit of a bore, banging on about my newfound love for running. But I don’t care. So there.
As I was saying … I love running I do (see pic above of a sweaty me after my fastest 4k run!) There’s five words (yes, I had to count) that I never thought I’d find myself saying. For those of you who personally know me, it’s pretty obvious why I have always found running difficult and I talk about that here. For those of you who don’t know me, suffice to say me ‘& the girls,’ aka my Widdecombe Boob Shelf, have just always hated running. Which is why I’m finding this whole running thing surreal.
I was always the ‘tall girl with the big boobs and big hair’ at school. The one who always got put in for the shotput on Sports Day. I was the Goal Shooter in Netball because that meant just standing under the net and occasionally putting the ball in. A lifetime of feeling like running was never going to be possible left me, at 40, having never run further than to the local sweet shop/Off Licence.
This week, I forewent (what? it’s a word!) watching My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding to plan out a new running route for tonight’s run. I know! Instead of reading a magazine in the bath from my magazine rack (aka the broken bidet,) I went onto Google and calculated the distance for said new run. When I went to Bluewater at the weekend, I drooled over sports bras (ick – that doesn’t sound right … I just mean, well, you know .. my priorities have changed.)
And I suddenly realised this whole running malarkey had the potential to become my new obsession.
As you may have read here I even spent two hours choosing a new pair of trainers, embarrassing myself in the middle of a shop by getting my running technique (I use the term ‘technique’ loosely) analysed by the staff. And that was only when I was power walking! Imagine if I was let loose in Nike Town now! Lord have mercy!
My obsessions have usually revolved around food. My last phase was eating Star Bars and I ate one every day for approximately three months. Usually in bed. Or whilst watching The Biggest Loser. Ironic eh. For me to be so enthusiastic about something that’s actually good for me, has me a little nervous.
What if I can’t do this new long run? What if (God forbid) I have to walk part of the way? I’m in my groove and I hate the thought of not succeeding. Fear of failure has always been one of my many isms.
As you can guess, I’m a tiny bit competitive. And as Monica from Friends would say, the best competition is the one against yourself! Every time I run, I have to beat my last time. Runkeeper Pro’s coach is egging me on! I blame her.
I have to remember that the fear of doing nothing is worse than the fear of failure and so I am going to try this run out tonight.
If I don’t make it round in one go … there’s always tomorrow. Or the day after.
Anyone got a Star Bar? Purely for energy of course ...