2019 is so far the year of the DNS - all the races I’ve entered so far I’ve deferred or not been able to run. No Pilgrims, no Lenham Marathon, not even an Ashford 10k and now no Dartford Half. I’m still entered in to Folkestone 10 and obviously the biggies. But I’m not entering any more races and next year I’m not entering any at all.
Fact is I’m not running. Barely a step. My year to date is 54 miles. That should almost be my weekly by now. But I’m holding on that i can still do this. All the races I’m in allow for walkers and with a run/walk pace I think I can get round within the cut offs. Plus I hope that I’ll find it in me somewhere to start again, get fit. Stop eating and piling on the pounds.
But it’s hard. Life is really really hard. I’m at the lowest ebb I’ve been for many many years. But not ever, so there is some light. And I’m stuck in the broken mental health system of this country. Bounced from place to place and apparently relying on tablets to fix it all, when actually they can’t.
I’ve found some solace in joining the local Mind running group - they were doing couch to 5k, which felt a suitable place to start. Until the last session when they sent me off with some very skinny looking runners as they thought I was above the walk/run. Of course this wasn’t what I needed or wanted and I had to swallow the anxiety at running with folk who clearly can run faster than my 38 min 5k! But I made it through alive and perhaps learnt something along the way too.
I’ve got London in 8 weeks. I trained for Loch Ness in 4 but was a stone lighter. A good deal brighter and wasn’t feeling the intense pressure that London, with the funds I’ve raised and long gone dream of doing a London sub-5 (my best there is 5:04:03 so at least aesthetically pleasing). I know I can make the start line. I know I can make the finish line. At least I think I do...see there it is. Who knows?
At the moment all I’m doing is locking myself away, hiding from the world, social media. Anything I put out there is probably a false front to make it all seem okay. But i wonder if as I fall out of love with life, I’ve truly fallen out of love with running. It used to be my solace, my place of enjoyment. Being outside, with friends, laughing, taking selfies, sharing selfies, stories, medals, races, meeting people. Keeping me in those 36 jeans....none of it seems to matter any more or push me out the door. Yes, I know, it’s just the dreaded “D” word making me feel like this. It will all be okay, I’ll find my “that hideous expression I refuse to use” again...perhaps. I’d say I hope so, but I’m not sure I do. Running has become part of my problem, not a solution to it.
So, I’ll do my races. The ones I’ve dreamt of. I’ll give them all I can. Which may not be all I’ve got. And then I may just stop. At least for a year. Perhaps take up walking. No more medals. No more races. No more selfies. But first I just want to keep taking one day at a time. And to let all of you know, we aren’t all perfect. We don’t have perfect lives. We have flaws and cracks and fears. I’m sorry this isn’t a motivational, whoop whoop blog post. But it is me and at the moment, that’s all I’ve got.
Thank you to Sow Ay for the amazing illustrations - as always, see more at http://sow-ay.tumblr.com/
