It finally... sigh... fuck.
Let me start at the start. Back in August, September maybe, I started running. Properly running. I'd sauntered about Edinburgh before the odd time, but never put any real effort into it. This time I was serious. Went out and bought gear. Downloaded an app on my phone to follow me around the city as if I was Will Smith (Enemy of the State, anyone who's too young to remember. Good film, look it up.). And I went outside and ran.
Don't get me wrong, I was ATROCIOUS to start with. Hilariously bad. You can spend £100 on runners all day long (though the shop closes at five) but they don't make you fit. So I started small. I'd go out and run for a minute, then walk for a minute. Run for a minute, walk for a minute. Run for ten seconds, walk for twenty minutes and lie on the kitchen floor like I'd just fought Godzilla. Can of tuna, post something on facebook about not being able to feel my legs, bed.
And on I went. I got better. Run for two minutes, walk for a minute. Run for three, walk for one. Walk for forty seconds, maybe. Run for five minutes. Run for twenty. I got better. My legs got stronger, and so did my mind. I got more focused, I was able to push myself more. If my shins got stiff or my arches sore, I'd tell myself to man up and push on through. And I did. Monday last week I ran 10km, and I did it in 54 minutes. Besides Tetris and sleep, I've never been able to anything for 54 minutes before in my life.
The way I improved, though, was by being tough on myself. Okay, I'd quit halfway through a lot of runs and limp home, but I'd always go out when and if I told myself I would. Checking my runs on the nike website, I've ran almost every second day. Since November 17th I've went out and floored it around Edinburgh 39 times. Sometimes I'd run 3km. Sometimes I'd run 10. But I always went out.
I've ran in hailstones, in gale force wind. I took runners with me to Bristol and ran about the place with Ed. I went out on on Christmas day and did my first 7km run because it happened to be my running day.
But not tonight. Tonight I don't want to. I told myself on the way home from work that I would. That I'd make a sandwich, put on a wash and go out and do 7km. But I didn't. I won't. It's cold. I need to look up new flats. My favourite t-shirt's in the wash. I should add something to my blog. I can always run tomorrow.
I'm making excuses.
This isn't good.
Let me start at the start. Back in August, September maybe, I started running. Properly running. I'd sauntered about Edinburgh before the odd time, but never put any real effort into it. This time I was serious. Went out and bought gear. Downloaded an app on my phone to follow me around the city as if I was Will Smith (Enemy of the State, anyone who's too young to remember. Good film, look it up.). And I went outside and ran.
Don't get me wrong, I was ATROCIOUS to start with. Hilariously bad. You can spend £100 on runners all day long (though the shop closes at five) but they don't make you fit. So I started small. I'd go out and run for a minute, then walk for a minute. Run for a minute, walk for a minute. Run for ten seconds, walk for twenty minutes and lie on the kitchen floor like I'd just fought Godzilla. Can of tuna, post something on facebook about not being able to feel my legs, bed.
And on I went. I got better. Run for two minutes, walk for a minute. Run for three, walk for one. Walk for forty seconds, maybe. Run for five minutes. Run for twenty. I got better. My legs got stronger, and so did my mind. I got more focused, I was able to push myself more. If my shins got stiff or my arches sore, I'd tell myself to man up and push on through. And I did. Monday last week I ran 10km, and I did it in 54 minutes. Besides Tetris and sleep, I've never been able to anything for 54 minutes before in my life.
The way I improved, though, was by being tough on myself. Okay, I'd quit halfway through a lot of runs and limp home, but I'd always go out when and if I told myself I would. Checking my runs on the nike website, I've ran almost every second day. Since November 17th I've went out and floored it around Edinburgh 39 times. Sometimes I'd run 3km. Sometimes I'd run 10. But I always went out.
I've ran in hailstones, in gale force wind. I took runners with me to Bristol and ran about the place with Ed. I went out on on Christmas day and did my first 7km run because it happened to be my running day.
But not tonight. Tonight I don't want to. I told myself on the way home from work that I would. That I'd make a sandwich, put on a wash and go out and do 7km. But I didn't. I won't. It's cold. I need to look up new flats. My favourite t-shirt's in the wash. I should add something to my blog. I can always run tomorrow.
I'm making excuses.
This isn't good.
You should consider entering blogawards for personal blogs. You'd win.
ReplyDelete