The Scribbler

3 February 2009

The curse of the blog strikes

Filed under: run — The Scribbler @ 22:11
Tags: , , ,

So there I go, happily blogging away about the joy of running. The zen like rhythm. The sense of euphoria at the end of a good session. The goal setting and reaching. The sense of achievement.

And tonight, well let’s just say it wasn’t so good. It just didn’t come together.

First off, the excuses…have you seen the weather out there? That meant I didn’t get my lunchtime run on Monday or today. That’s okay though because I planned around it and decided to go for a shot on the treadmill at the gym this evening. 

I’ve already decided I like running outdoors better than the treadmill (the scenery’s more interesting for a start), and when I arrived at the gym and discovered I’ve left my headphones behind, it wasn’t a good omen. I’ve tried out a continuous dance mix download from the Nike+ website on my last couple of gym-based runs and to my surprise, really liked it. It helped me get into my stride, distracted me from listening to my breathing and helped me zone out into the run. It’s also great to get the voice feedback through the headphones, telling you how many miles you’ve clocked up or counting down the metres to the end of your run.  

Never mind, headphones or no headphones, I punch in a distance, pick up the pace and get started. Almost imediately that evil little voice murmurs, “This isn’t happening tonight is it?” But I ignore it. I’ve heard it before and I know I can get through the initial jolts and settle down into my stride.

But a few minutes in and my shoelace works loose. And balancing on the static sides to do it up while the conveyor belt streams away in the middle – well there’s almost a Frank Spenser comedy moment. The evil little voice has a laugh at my expense.

So I slow down to a walk, get my head together, start again. It’s still not good. Still not coming together. Calves feel tight. Sports bra is digging in. Legs and feet stumble to find a rhythm. I’m hot, tired and only ten minutes in.

Push on, stride out, relax my shoulders. Give myself a little pep talk in my head. Find a pace I can carry for a while, but it’s not easy. I can’t settle, focus, lose my train of anxious thoughts. I give myself a minimum goal and push on to meet it, knowing I’m giving myself an easy break.

Stretching out, dissatisfied, I tell myself there will be days like these.

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