This is the story of my Sunday morning.
I was pottering around my flat doing the usual – avoiding cleaning the bathroom and wondering if I could eat my dinner for breakfast when I noticed a woman out running. And something clicked in my head. I HAD TO RUN.
Since I last blogged, I am ashamed to say that I haven’t done many runs – in fact you could count on one hand the amount of times I’ve been out and still have fingers free. For a long time I used my knee injury as an excuse, and in my defense, your Honor, I did have a pretty painful knee injury. I was still walking like an ageing robot until May.
After the injury phase I moved straight into the excuse phase – of which I excelled – ‘I can’t run because I’m too fat,’ or ‘I can’t run because I’ve still got four seasons of Breaking bad to watch’ and my personal favourite ‘I can’t run because I’m drunk’.
Then life took over and soon enough I found myself in 2015 with legs as weak as a stray cat and the cardio strength of a potato. So it was as much as shock to the world as it was to me when I found myself out running again. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do a long run, but I expected to at least be able to get to the top of my road without stopping. I didn’t. Turns out my road is long and steep, something I had failed to notice when I was running up it five times a week before the marathon.
So now I need to get my fitness back. I need to get some miles into my legs and I need to set a new goal – one that isn’t related to the amount of cheese I can eat without hallucinating.
I’m happy to announce that after all of those excuses, after some serious weight gain and a lot of muscle loss, I’m a runner again. Watch out world.