Following my first long ish run a weekend or so ago, I followed it with a trip to the Lordshill Road Runners Club the very next day. My drive to keep on running even stronger now that I managed a 5.2k route, I just wanted to do more, to get back to where I was in October when I was doing practise runs of 8 miles.
Of course I didn't expect to sprint off like Jessica Ennes but, to be out in the brass monkeys weather with a still slightly twingy knee is kinda liberating. Inside my head I'm strutting like the Fonz, well chuffed with myself, out in the freezing cold, ard as nails. Imagination is a wonderful thing, but then delusion can be as well. It was tough, it was cold, my knee complained a couple of times, but I had a word with it, was a little more gentle and finished the evening without a limp. So I was pleased, at last, pounding my stress out through my feet.
A crazily manic week ensued and my next run didn't happen until the Sunday by which time I was feeling a little stir crazy, a little twitchy, eager to don my glamorous running outfit. Sunday morning arrived, outfit donned and I planned my route, all 7.19k of it, around the houses and common and off I set. I ran all the way, no stopping, no walking, all the way home. And I felt amazing when I got back, that cocktail of drugs: epinephrine, serotonin and dopamine (so Wikipedia will have me believe) and it's a wonderful feeling. Like you're having the best day you could ever have but just a little knackered, knowing that I could still do it and I wasn't going back to my pre-running self, knowing that I wouldn't give into the sofa and allow it to meld around me and suck me down. And I have to wonder, why on earth didn't I get this years ago? Why didn't I twig in my 20's how great exercise can be, why is partying hard, so much more attractive in your 20's . I bet natural drugs are far better than any processed drugs?
But the drugs are paying off
It seems that this healthy 'ish' lifestyle is paying off. A quick visit to the GP for those female checks that you have to have from time to time include a blood pressure check, your weight as well as the god awful lolly pop stick test. Yeuch. Anyway back to the blood pressure. It appears I have the blood pressure of a teenager. Picture smug Fonz strut. Yep, the blood pressure of a teenager, I've no idea what that actually means, but I'm presuming it's good and it's the closest I'm going to get to feeling like a teenager! The other part of the check-up is the dreaded scales and the scales declared that I had the weight of someone who likes to eat cake, cook good food and go out to dinner. Bugger, I knew there was a reason that I didn't replace the battery in my scales. Unfortunately I cannot un-know what I know and now I have to do something about that too. Add expletive of your choice.
Mothering Sunday
This weekend will see a visit back to Southampton parkrun, somewhere I haven't ventured this year. I will be laying out my running garments on the floor next to my bed, ready to slide into first thing, to ensure that I get my arse running 5.2k. With my drug cocktail flowing round my bloodstream I will then get myself up to my lovely Mothers and Step Dads for some family get together time this weekend. And this is where I'll enlist the help of Mum to take some crucial measurements so that I can no longer hide from the truth.
Hypnosis for Running by Adam Eason
While reading this book I realised that I was lacking in goals. Yes I was running, yes I was eating healthy food the majority of the time, yes my wine consumption had dwindled to a glass or two a week and yes I was still off the fags. But I didn't have any goals. And so I've got a couple of good SMART goals now. To reduce my weight by 18lbs and to run 5k in 30mins. As yet I haven't planned the end date or how exactly I'm going to do it or over how long. But I will post on here how I'm doing, and what my plan is. I may not put my weight or measurements but I will post my losses.
There, I've done it now. Committed myself to blog, and it's a little scary but as the teenagers say YOLO!
Now where's that Justin Beiber CD . . . .
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