Yesterday morning marked my first proper run since Christmas. Yes I’ve been dabbling in the gym this week but that’s the easy bit – it’s warm, there a variety of activities to do and if you nab just the right machine you can watch Star Trek The Original Series or The Simpsons as you get that cardio in. Running, however, is an entirely different beast.
You know those people who really love to run and it is what keeps them sane and they love it and they’ll just tell you relentlessly with a slight smile on their face and a wistful sigh escaping their mouth that really, running is what makes them feel alive and is their true ‘me’ time? Those people are not me.
Here’s how day one back running on the road after a Christmas break panned out…
3.00am The worry of having to be up promptly to fit in a run before work has resulted in the inevitable restless sleep. Fabulous. It’s okay though, I put on an episode of Sh**ged Married Annoyed (excellent ‘company’ listening if you know what I mean?) and drift off again.
6.15am There she blows. It’s wake up time. I’m pretty lucky in that I can sleep until after 6.00am and still squeeze in a good amount of run time and a shower before I need to be at the station. Later on that might change as I try and extend the length of my runs more and more. We’ll see. I’ll be honest, I spent a solid ten minutes in bed, stretching, looking out of the window trying to tell myself it’s far too windy to go running (what kind of logic is that?) and gently dipping one toe at a time out from under the comfort of my duvet. It gets to nearly half past six and finally I get myself up and dressed and I almost feel okay about the idea of a run.
6.45am I’m out of the house, having crept past sleeping flatmates and I’m feeling a bit better already. Maybe I haven’t lost all my fitness? I go full Mark Corrigan and declare I AM A RUNNER!
7.00am I’ve doubled down on my Mark Corrigan-ness and now feel like maybe I’m done with running. This isn’t for me. Should I give up? Do I really need to run the London Marathon?
7.05am I’ve met up with my friend who is a far more experienced runner than I am, and seeing him keeps me motivated. We do something vaguely representing interval training for twenty minutes or so which keeps me occupied and definitely passes the time quickly. We pause to do stretches that we don’t know if we’re doing properly and admire the view over London.
7.30am It’s time to turn around and head back home which takes around 15-minutes but somehow I speed through it and get back earlier than I anticipated so in a fit of optimism and energy I decide to power-walk on past my front door and take myself up to a full hour of exercise.
7.50am Flopped on the bed and waiting for the bathroom to be free for a shower. I feel better in that sort of endorphin rush kind of way but 26.2miles feels longer than it has in a long time. However, at least run one is done.
11.30pm Made it back to bed. Legs are just starting to develop that faint throb, but otherwise I’m pretty chuffed with getting myself back out there again. Friday rest day, then Saturday back at it again.