After scraping myself out of bed this morning I knocked on Miss 15’s bedroom door, and quietly enquired if she might be running. No answer. I then wandered down to Miss 19’s room, knocked on the door, and repeated the enquiry – with similar results.
Running alone again.
After finding a pair of running shorts from the washing line, and pulling yesterday evening’s t-shirt back on, I wandered out into the road – wondering if my recently broken toe would continue complaining as much as it had since getting up. I switched on STRAVA – an idiotic mobile app that keeps me accountable to myself – and set off.
I knew it was going to be warm. I don’t think I really registered quite how warm. After only a few minutes, I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my neck.
After perhaps a kilometre, approaching the high street, I had a decision to make – either be sensible and turn back across town – taking the safe option and not doing any mischief to myself – or keep running in a straight line and double the length of the loop – taking it out to five kilometres. I kept going straight on.
At the half-way mark, an argument of sorts was forming in my own head – between the rational me, and the idealistic me. I was calling myself an idiot for doing this running business at all. The stubborn me had also turned up to stoke the argument, and was busy telling the others not to dare let him give up and start walking.
I ran all the way back through town.
During the last kilometre I could swear all sorts of aches and pains appeared – I imagine warning lights were going off all over the place in front of the idiots arguing in my head.
I made it. Of course I made it – because I’m stupid like that. I ran 5K, and can get that particular monkey off my back. It was probably a bit stupid, jumping from week 5 of “Couch to 5K” straight to week 10, but then I had already run the first half twice in a row with my daughters.
I get the day off tomorrow. I’m guessing I’ll do it all again on Sunday though – because like I said – I’m stupid like that.
