High five to my younger self

The apocalyptic Brussels canal. Photo by saigneurdeguerre.

Running is not a new activity for me. From a young age each year I would join my father in a 5 mile race – called the Greggs run.

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Running towards the light

So I became that person, I am the person who comes home after work when its pitch black outside and the temperature is barely 1 degree, and goes running.

I never thought I’d be that person who would go running in the freezing cold at night when there are radiators and Netflix, but here we are. It has happened.

Now most things don’t phase me too much when running: I secretly enjoy running in the rain. Bright insanely hot sunshine can be gruelling, but manageable. Freezing cold temperatures can be combatted by long sleeved tops and gloves.

But today I had to conquer my biggest fear: THE DARK. Now I like being female, I very much enjoy it, but sometimes it gets in the way of things. And one of those things is choosing to run at night.

Because pretty much for any female, no matter how unappealing we look in our lycra running gear, can't go running in pitch darkness for fear of scary men lurking in shadows. Its rubbish, and check out Reclaim the Night marches for info on protests around this.

So pretty much all parks are out of the question, and you have to stick to lit roads surrounded by houses. This is a damn annoyance to be perfectly honest. I am happy to wear the reflective gear, and look like a idiot in a bright yellow hat (though I have yet to succumb to wearing the only head torch I own, which is a panda’s face with two glowing eyes that flash), but running on streets doesn't quite have the same exciting - look at all these lovely things, as running round a nice park does.

So I kept putting it off, but with the pressure of 26.2 miles ahead of me, I finally went for it.

And it wasn’t too bad at all – I stuck to lit roads and found a decent 5k. I even encountered another runner, who was clearly much more worried about not being seen than I was and had no less than three separate lights flashing on him.

I’m pretty sure even his trainers lit up. It makes you wonder if people run just for the excuse of legitimately wearing trainers with flashing lights past the age of 8.

Apart from the bright trainers, he was obviously a serious runner, because when he past me, he looked at his watch in a meaningful – AM I PBing??? (personal best) way.

And the best part about running in dark? Less people to randomly mock you on the street. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, but at least once each run you’ll get some moron who is so uncomfortable with the idea of exercise that they feel the need to openly share it with you.

However, those same idiots wouldn’t step outside if there was even the slightest chance of rain, so you get to share the path with much more accepting individuals.

So all in all – despite the problems of being a girl, I still managed to run in the dark!

Evening runs conquered.

Finally here is Wanda Sykes with the perfect solution to the problem:

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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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