“Go for a run” is something which has been looming over my to-do list like a disapproving relative who’s just caught you twerking against the Brownies’ coconut shy, at the local village fête.
It’s been hanging around like that tin of sliced pear halves in the deep abyss of my kitchen cupboard. It’s not that I don’t like you, pears, it’s just that I’ve sort of neglected you for a bit, and every time I catch a glimpse of your familiar silver pull ring, I have to slam the drawer shut and retreat very slowly, hoping that you won’t notice. And so you remain at the back of the cupboard, and at the back of my mind.
It had all got a bit stagnant.
But today was different. I awoke to a vicious torrent of rain, and yet again, I made my usual excuses and put the thought of running to the back of my mind. However, I found myself feeling unbearably restless all day and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I tried cleaning, unpacking, tidying, reading, cooking – I even attempted to start Absolutely Fabulous from Series 1 to see if that could ground me. But, for the first time in my life, it occurred to me that Eddy and Patsy might not provide the remedy for all self-induced ailments. Huh. I then caught sight of my long-neglcedted runners peeking out from under my bed, and like a well-timed cliché, something just clicked and everything seemed to fit into place.
Within 30 seconds I was scrambling about trying to organise myself, my limbs not quite keeping up with the lightbulb that had just switched on in my head. I couldn’t find my favourite sports bra (y’all ladiez know what I’m talking about) or my running jersey or my sassy Nike ‘RUN’ shirt. My running playlist was going to be nauseatingly familiar and to top it all off, it had just started to rain. ‘No excuses’ I thought to myself as I scrambled to blast Sia’s ‘Chandelier’ through my tangle of headphones. No excuses.
And suddenly I was assertively pounding the pavement in time to ‘Everything is Embarrassing’ and I didn’t care about anything other than the stretch of road that separated me from my finish. And there I was, that familiar wave of euphoria crashing over me as I was informed by Paula Radcliffe that I’d completed my longest run yet [she spoke through the automated Nike Running App, I don’t have her on speed dial, soz]. Oh endorphins, how I’ve missed you.
It was a slow and steady 5km, but it was a start nonetheless; a rebirth into the running world of which I can be proud. I’m sure I’ll ache a bit tomorrow, but at least I’ll have this narcissistic blog post to read back to myself, sweetie darling.
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