Alternative title: When I was younger I had this dream of running a marathon before I reached the age of 30 … It’s safe to say that didn’t happen considering I’m now 31 and I am still a marathon / half-marathon virgin. I get tired running up the stairs for crying out loud … Which is part of the reason I own a house with a downstairs crapper.
I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with running … That said I think I’ve had a love-hate relationship with most forms of exercise. But for some reason I always end up returning to running, determined to be better, determined to break my own expectations of my bodies capabilities … Proving it is stronger than I give it credit for. Proving it is not going to vomit at the sight of running shoes (well, much … Maybe a bit of dry retching).
As I mentioned on Twitter I ran with my local Couch to 5K group recently and instead of face planting in the warm up (which is totally what I thought was going to happen) or kneeing myself in the face (which totally has happened – don’t ask me how, just accept I’m a clumsy arse) I actually managed to clock up 2.65 miles. I ran for 20 minutes, with a brief breather at the 17 minutes mark when I ended up with a stitch and thought I was dying. I even considered lying on the floor and crying about it but my trainer told me to yank up my big girl pants and quit whinging before she stuck her foot up my ass.
Now to some of you folks, 20 minutes doesn’t sound like an awful lot, but to me even getting up for a pee in the middle of the night is a dash too far so I’m taking that 20 (technically 17) minutes and rolling with it. I was tempted to retire with it as my personal best, I mean, I could very well have peaked and every run from now on will just be an utter crap fest in comparison but (I’ve been told) that’s not the way of the runner.
Apparently I need to find my running zen, remember to breathe, remember to keep hydrated and just go with the flow … And not trip over my own feet. The last one being the most difficult given that my feet are assassins in disguise, I swear they have minds of their own.
Anyway, I’ve agreed to give this running lark a fair dabble as I now own 3 pairs of running shoes that still live in their respective boxes and I can no longer justify walking around the Asics shop under the guise of ‘research’ … After all, there are only so many times you can wander around aimlessly in a fitness shop without thinking that you need to get serious about it or stop nosying!
So yeah, maybe, just maybe, I’ll kick marathon butt before I reach 40. Definitely (maybe) by 50 … ok so 60 at the most.
Come on runner peeps, share your motivational tunes and tales to give me a swift kick up the backside!