I’ve had several titles for this blog post going through my head for most of today. Amongst them ‘9 Mile Meltdown’, ‘No 9 miles’, ‘Can’t do 9 miles’… As you may guess, today didn’t go well. Of course it didn’t. I have been doing far too well generally, feeling pretty good about running, looking after myself, sleeping better and eating yummy healthy stuff for most of the time. So just to avoid any sort of complacency  and to remind me that I have some way to go to regain my mental health fully, my mind decided it wasn’t going to play nice today.

I woke up fine, Kath even brought me porridge in bed and then I got sorted. I felt more nervous about the distance than I expected and my tummy was a little unsettled but we were going and that was fine. We left the car at my Mum’s because she lives at the bottom of the hill and we thought at the end of 9 miles we might not want to have to drag ourselves up the hill. Then we were going to catch the bus to the station and the train to Skipton and then run back. Well the bus didn’t come when it was due and the live departure board suggested it was still 12 minutes out. We waited a bit longer and there was no sign of the bus which meant that we would now miss the train and would soon be in danger of missing the next one too. So we gave up on the Skipton idea and decided to just run along the canal towards Bingley and then back. I felt relatively settled and ok with that idea.

With that we set the watch to 3 minute running and 1 minute walking and set off. We’d run less than a minute when I burst into tears. Not really sure why but I was just overwhelmed with the feeling of not being able to do it. Not just a few little doubts and tears, you understand, oh no, full blown sobbing, snotty, blotchy face kind of a mess. We gave up, went to the co-op for cheesy rolls and bacon, went home, made sarnies and coffee and sulked. Well I sulked.

Actually the rest of the day hasn’t been too bad. We got our shopping done and have deep cleaned a lot of the house in a, probably futile, attempt to get our cats’ fleas under control. I’ve spent a lot of time dusting, vacuuming, and combing cats with a flea comb and drowning fleas in a glass of water. Doesn’t sound like much – BUT  I have spent maybe 10% of my day on the sofa and when I have been on the sofa, like now, I’ve spent it watching the dressage phase of the Olympic 3 day eventing. This is good. This is progress. So although my mind had a bit of a hissy fit this morning, I don’t feel too bad now. The 9 miles will still be there another day. We may try tomorrow but Kath has a sore knee, so we may not. We’ll see. I’m a little grumpy about the run and I think the title of this post sums it up nicely. Hmph!


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