Capitulating In The Month Leading To My Flight Back Home For Christmas & How My Next Flight Is Going To Be Different
In the month leading up to my flight back home for Christmas, friends had asked me to come out on multiple occasions but I was reluctant to go anywhere or do anything.
It was pretty much my own fault as I’d isolated myself to the point where it was difficult to make any appearances outside.
Around this time I got a little media attention for the book and I felt like a fraud as I’d put on about 14 pounds since the marathon in Vegas I didn’t feel like the same person and it all seemed like a lie. I stopped responding to calls and emails from newspapers as it all seemed like a real fucking joke.
Flight back home for Christmas
I had to leave the house at 4am and catch the King’s Cross night bus for my flight back home from London Luton. I dressed in the baggiest clothes I could find. I was excited about coming home but was deeply uncomfortable in my own skin.
It should have been a time for celebration but I couldn’t help feeling self conscious. My gut ate into my t-shirt and I had to keep pulling it back over my torso. I couldn’t stop fidgeting.
The train up to London Luton Parkway was fucking miserable. It was the first time I’d been to anywhere but Sainsbury’s for about 2 months and I just had this terrible feeling of dread all day long.
This unease persisted over the entire Christmas period.
I didn’t want to run as I was embarrassed by how much my fitness had capitulated in such a short time.
I managed one run on New Year’s Eve but it was to be my last one over the Christmas period. And I did it under the cover of night.
What’s the point of this post?
Well I’m 31 years of age and time is passing by very quickly. Going back to being a recluse isn’t a fucking option. That’s why I’m determined to eat better and run further over the next month and prove to myself that I can break out of this rut.
In 25 days I’m flying back home for the weekend and I’m not going to go there feeling self conscious. I’ve only one chance left to get back on the right path.
History doesn’t have to repeat itself and I can get back to how I was this time last year.
I even managed another run last night in the rain to try to keep the momentum going. It was slow as fuck as I’m only concerned about finishing this 100k on August 30th. All of my miles from this day forth will be so-called ‘junk’ miles.
Only they aren’t fucking junk mikes. They are my therapy. I don’t give a fuck for speedwork, hillwork, intervals, repeats, or any of that other tomfuckery.
I started running to cope with the outside world and to do that I need to go outside and stay there for as long as I can on each run.