I hated running today. No reason at all really. I slept quite well. I was a little reluctant to get up but it was a gorgeous, sunny day and I wasn’t too concerned about 10 miles. We set off and unlike last time I attempted the 10 miles, I settled almost immediately. I found my ploddy pace and it all felt fine. Except that I hated it. From the first few steps I was really not enjoying myself. It felt like a colonoscopy, or as I put on Facebook, a colonoscopy while having my teeth pulled without anaesthetic, would be more enjoyable. Running, even though it didn’t feel particularly hard, was absolutely the last thing I wanted to be doing.
Eventually a mile was done. Hm, still hating it. At about one and 3/4 miles we got to the end of the footpath and walked a little to cross the road. Hating it. I tried not to show it. I didn’t want to let Kath down. I managed to run the slope (I walked most of it last time) and eventually we started the downhill. Easy running. Hated it. 2 miles done, 3 miles done. Hating it. I thought I’d try and run to 4 miles and then have a little walk break but for some reason – I can’t even remember why – we walked a little earlier at just over 3.5 miles. I’d been trying so hard to not let Kath know that I was hating it but somehow I blurted it out. We tried running a bit more but I couldn’t make myself go any further. Maybe if I hadn’t walked I would have slogged it out, hating every step but slogging – but I couldn’t bring myself to start again and go back to each stupid f-ing step being so f-ing bloody awful (except it wasn’t really awful, running had been relatively easy actually, just not in any way enjoyable). I gave up, I stopped the watch at 4 miles and walked the additional mile home.
Sometimes running is just crap.