Apparently my last post was my 200th post on this blog. Well if I’d known… actually who am I kidding, I wouldn’t have done anything different at all.
Our 10k plan quite clearly states that today is a core strength or rest day so I think my fire breathing, looks could kill sort of response when Kath suggested we should run today and tomorrow was perfectly justified. She wouldn’t let up though, pointing out how gorgeous it was outside (yeah, the sun just blinds you so you don’t see the ice patches…) and how much better we’d feel (hmph, I don’t want to feel better). When she said ‘Come on, try and be positive’ my amazingly positive response of ‘If I run, slip, break my neck, I don’t ever have to run again?’ just got an eye roll and a’ oh for fuck’s sake’.
I got changed – is it possible to get changed in a stroppy sort of way? If it is then that’s what I did. I can sulk. No, I mean really sulk and today I put every little ounce of sulkiness I had into this and drew on years and years of practice. I did not want to go out there and run. But I also knew that Kath was right. I would feel better, it is gorgeous out there… so just saying no wasn’t an option. But going and embracing it wasn’t either. Sulking was the way to go. Sulking would work.
We had decided (well Kath had and I refused to agree or disagree because I was sulking) that we would repeat the 6 minute run, 3 minute walk session from the other day. So off we trotted and very quickly something happened – I forgot I was supposed to be sulking. We weren’t even 2 minutes in and I allowed myself to notice how lovely the sun felt on my back, I started looking around a bit and noting the snow on the hills on the other side of the valley. We had turned and were going uphill so running took a bit more concentration and I remembered I was grumpy about this. Then came the walk break. After the walk break we were heading downhill – I’d never run down this particular hill before. We don’t usually turn down the road here because we don’t often run on the road but the paths and tracks we do use were likely to be icy or at least muddy and slippery. Ah yes, I’m sulking aren’t I, I remember, I don’t like downhill. Running is stupid, I remember now.
We turned the corner and started up the road that looks almost flat but it’s not. I think you only really know this when you run it – it’s a slope. It’s a pull. I should be grumpy but I was actually feeling that little twinge of satisfaction and pride you get when you know you’re running uphill but your pace isn’t slowing, your lungs are burning that little bit more and you can feel your legs pushing. I was working bloody hard but enjoying it, really enjoying it. FFS I am supposed to be sulking, remember.
Last 6 minutes, there it is, stride pattern, breathing, movement – everything fits. Just like that I have time and energy to look around, to see the dogs playing, the old ladies standing in a driveway nattering away, a woman running in the opposite directions really pushing the pace and the drivers getting irritated and impatient with each other as they navigate their way around parked cars. I notice the blue sky and the birds in it. I notice how the sun feels on my face. Then it’s over. The run is done. We walk a little and then decide to run the rest of the final walk break. That takes us to the co-op to pick up some milk. Then we walk home. I’ve forgotten I’m supposed to be sulking.