5 Periods Of Time As A Runner Which I Hated (Or Hate)
After working somewhere where our office got repossessed and countless house moves since, I have really struggled with my motivation to run this month.
I often think back to the day where I decided properly to move over here for the first time. It was a Tuesday and I was unemployed and came to the realisation that I’d never be able to make a full time living off the site as I’m too fond of the word cunt.
Anyway on that day I ran 16 miles easily. I had so much hope for my fitness for the 100k.
Since then life and my own compulsive personality have caught up with me and I kinda long to be that fit again.
Kinda filled with regret that I struggle so much with this haha.
I lost the plot altogether in May with grief from Dad in March. With the marathon over I headed straight on a holiday to Magaluf that was pretty much disastrous in every way.
I got home from the holiday and didn’t know what to do with myself. So I stopped running and just drank like a dick.
I went through an awkward music of only listening to dance music which is quite embarrassing now as I have always liked Rock.
Still hadn’t acknowledged my grief from Dad and lost my mind on a mad cross country dash through Spain. Missed the Dublin Marathon which was really very humiliating at the same time.
Had to reset my mileage altogether and just start from scratch but I’m many ways I was reborn from that experience.
Paris Marathon brain rape. Had a terrible race where my plastic running bottoms were melting into my skin and I finished in absolute agony. Stressful and shit and ultimately all my own fault.
I was running 60 miles a week but I was eating so much horrible shit that I was gaining weight and getting slower. Ironically it was around this time that most of you started reading the blog.
So thanks and welcome.