Run Run As Fast As You Can

I must admit to hesitating about writing this post.  I've unfollowed people on twitter because they constantly write about how much exercise they do. "Just off for a 10K run!"  I felt exhausted just reading about it and when I found myself wondering if I too should be out there doing the same thing, it easier to switch off the stream of conscience.

So why would I hesitate about writing that?  It's no big deal, just personal preference.  Well, I do run and I can see why people so many people (running perkily past my house) would do it.  It's just for me, every step hurts, my lungs want to explode, most of the time my shins feel like they are being stabbed with glass and today, by the end, there was a sharp pain in my left shoulder (what was that about?!).  But that's just the physical side!  On the mental side, there is the consent worry that someone you know will see you staggering down the road, parts of your anatomy wobbling with a life of their own, your face bright red, huffing and puffing like a buffalo.

By the end of my circuit, instead of looking off into the distance, setting myself goals to reach before walking for a short period, wondering if I'll ever get round without the walking parts, I'm looking down, watching with detached interest every rise and fall of my feet.  I don't know if it's because I'm nearly home, or if I've gone through "the wall" but this bit I can do, I morph into a running machine.  Everything is in harmony, my legs feel powerful and I could run for ever.  My brain registers new pains, accepts them and thinks, well if you think that hurts, Ha! you should have felt the back pain when we reached the allotments and she's still going!  Then I'm home and suddenly that's the last memory I have of my hideous exercise.  Until I set off on my next attempt, and run about 100 meters down the road.  Then it hits me like a sledge hammer, this isn't fun and it hurts and I sweat and it's really undignified.

So today, as I was staggering round and not quite meeting the targets I've met on previous runs, I did wonder why I do this.  I'm still (relatively) young and fit, what am I trying to prove to myself?  Watching my foot as it moves through the air to strike the road, feeling the impact absorbed by my leg before the muscles tensed in my thigh, as they pushed down, propelling me forward, it suddenly struck me. I tackle running as I tackle writing.  I've set my self goals and I'll push myself.  Sometimes I fall short of the goal, but I limp on until I've finished.  The words and ideas often bound like a gazelle, elegantly flowing onto the page, but mostly it's a careful, deliberate word by word effort, which with practice becomes easier and less laboured.  Running also gives me the space to think, to leave my everyday world and move into a different head space.

I'd just like it to be less painful and less wobbly!