And that’s the point isn’t it. I’m not going to win. Shit, I mostly come last lately. But I finish. I’m in no hurry to get to the end and maybe that makes me not a runner. But I’ve got enough going on without worrying about that too. I’m out there, I’m moving and yes my running pace is currently that of an average walker (trust me, all my fitness app tell me I’ve been for a VERY long walk not a run lately) but it’s me, moving.
Why are we all in such a hurry anyway? I hit those times a couple of years ago that I’m sure many runners would die for. I don’t expect to hit them again. It’s not the game I’m into. If I’m going to spend £50 or more entering a race or event I may as well get my money’s worth! And if I’m going to train for those races knowing that, then what’s my hurry. Why am I so keen to reach the end, when actually I’d quite like to enjoy the journey. I’m still moving. I’m still doing the distance and I am not walking!
I’ve given up anything that goes against this ethos - my runs still post to Strava but I’ve turned off notifications, I don’t open the app, add photos, give my jaunts pithy titles. Yes I collect the data from my garmin and actually I still take photos on a run. (No selfies currently) but I don’t want to put myself in the target of those that may not get what I’m doing. 3 hours for a 10 mile run....is probably less speed of chat and more speed of in-depth conversation. But at the moment I’m doing nearly all my running alone. So it isn’t hurting anyone. Race day, I’m sure there’ll be people who won’t understand. But I’ve discovered quite a little crowd of us at the back. We have a lot of fun. We look around, we take it in and we put our hearts out there. I’m not saying others don’t do all that too. But I promise you when the crowds have all gone and they’re packing up the finish - it’s a lonely place to be so we may as well get what we can before that point!
My new therapist asked me last week “why on earth are you running so far?” - what was I trying to prove? It was a fair question. Some of my races have been very long, but actually not as long as they could be. And this year, I’ve got my longest ever. I didn’t think I was trying to prove anything. Other than that I’m alive. Maybe it is a weird test of endurance, to say - “hey, look I’ve got through life so this shit ain’t ever going to beat me!” But I don’t know, really. I do know I like running far. I hate 5k. I’ve talked about this before. It sucks. Slow, fast, walking. Blah. I’ve discovered I warm up at the 8 mile mark. And cause I don’t care how long it’s taking me, well I can just keep going. Every race I’ve got now has a cut-off that allows for this, those that don’t. Well I may not start. They’ve been my DNS this year so far. Tight times. I’m in no place to push a pace and I don't’ know if I ever will be again.
Everyone has been kind since my last blog post. I can’t say things have got better. But I am running. Jules spotted actually I’ve gone over 80 miles now this year and maybe by the end of the week I’ll hit 100. I’m sticking to the plan. And I’m being me. A plodder. A walk/runner. A jogger. Whatever. Kick me out of your race cause I’m too slow, that’s fine. But I’ll be found up on the North Downs or the Greensand way pootling along. Cause I can. And cause right now, it’s all I’ve got!
If you’ve read this and relate and fancy helping me hit my targets, Breast Cancer Now would be really grateful.
