Tuesday, 12 November 2013

My legs hate me today

Last week I ran a 10k, and in the flurry of a runner high - I dreamily decided that it would be a brilliant idea to sign up for a marathon in April. And much like making a drunken purchase using Amazon one click, that brilliant idea suddenly felt utterly absurd as soon as the adrenalin had worn off.

A marathon? The most I have managed before is 10k, so I may not be starting from scratch, but when my race results came in for the run on that Sunday - my name seemed to be surrounded by a large amount of women in the over 40 category. Not that women over 40 are bad runners, in fact I can tell by looking at my own time (I hour 8 mins if you must know), they clearly aren't.

So like any self-indulgent runner, I decided to write a blog - mainly as a outlet for my frustrations, confusions and naval gazing.

Today my legs hurt - they really bloody hurt. They hurt in that way that it is almost hysterically funny how much they hurt, because every movement feels like someone is shredding my thigh with a steak knife. Ok, so its not that bad, but it is the unfortunate issue with running a 10k, followed by a 5k the next day.

My body isn't used to this kind of pressure, it has come rather used to sitting or lying down. I once perfected the ability to lie on my bed, while watching endless episodes of 30 rock on Netflix eating crisps, without having to lift my head at all.

So now my body is on strike, it is refusing to go on, it is picketing the fence that is my upper thighs and sneering at my feet for even trying to get me anywhere. However this shall of course not deter me. I am mildly amused by my bodies resistance, like a toddler throwing a tantrum – it will eventually pass and I shall keep going.

I am a mild reprobate – I drink beer (I live in Brussels, its basically their water), I can’t hear the words 'free food' without the urge to stuff it all in my mouth, I have spent days not leaving the house, but I am a runner.

Welcome to my blog.


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