Today saw me achieve the most I’ve done so far, yet return home the most disappointed. I covered 1.43 miles in 15:49 minutes, absolutely no great shakes in comparison to what I have to hit in September, but the furthest I’ve done to date. Yet still I came home devastated.
Things were looking up when I eventually got my arse outside. I sat indoors for an hour or two waiting for the weather to chill out and let me run. It was chucking it down with rain when the thunder came. Call me a pussy, but my route takes me along a path covered either side in trees. Big trees. Like “yeah lightening! Hello! Fancy having a go if you think you’re hard enough?” kinda trees. So I wimped out and waited for the storm to pass. Only it didn’t.
I spotted an opportunity when the rain calmed down and bolted. In went the headphones, on went shuffle and straight away I felt good. The rain continued to beat down but I was feeling good,, nicely refreshed and the music was loud and pumping. A bit of The Strokes, a bit of Kasabian and I should have been headed for home. Instead I thought I’d keep running for one more song before heading back, meaning I should hit the two mile mark that I’ll be doing next week. So I continued running and guess who should pop up as the rain lashed in my face? Natalie fucking Imbruglia.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s alright, but it’s hardly the sort of stuff to get your blood pumping as your body says no. Love songs don’t help you run up hills. Just as I was panicking, a bit of The Enemy came on and normal service was resumed, although I tired towards the end and was looking for something fresh to push me on towards home. So just as I was waiting for that moment of inspiration… on came Buena Vista Social Club. Now I love them, and their chilled out, relaxing, summery music. It’s delightful. But it’s not what you want to hear to keep your legs pumping and your body going in the pouring rain.
I ran up one last hill and gave in, around half a mile from home. Soaked through and depressed that for the first time since starting this training, I’d started walking. Sure, I had a look at my distance and felt a tinge of pride that I’d hit a milestone I’d not hit, but it was mostly disappointment that I couldn’t find that last few percent to push me on towards home. What’s worse was the feeling of failure on the long trudge home, with a t-shirt almost as heavy as me, it’d absorbed so much water. Yeah, I’d still hit my goal for the day, but I wanted more. It’s a bitter taste in my mouth right now. Fuck the three jokes I promised last night.
I’ve tried telling myself it’s a good measure of how far I’ve come, but I’m not having it. Tomorrow I run two miles, like it or lump it. And I’m deleting all the fucking slow songs from my phone!