Have You Ever Experienced The Jogger’s Low?
Hope all is well with you.
I got called a silly jogger by 2 kids in Tottenham today on my 19k run. I wanted to shout ‘I’LL SHOW YOU SILLY!” at them but they looked young enough to have knives.
I dunno why I let this annoy me, but for the next few miles I felt pretty awful.
So I’m writing tonight about the jogger’s low.
Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy running and on very rare occasions I’ve experienced the runner’s high, but it’s always fleeting.
The jogger’s low is something I’ve experienced all too often.
It’s when you cringe about something emotionally painful whilst jogging alone by a canal, leading to unwanted thoughts of body slamming a swan against a towboat and wearing it’s carcass as a rain coat as it’s cygnets honk for mommy.
She ain’t coming home. She’s my new shower curtain.
It’s about never running for long or fast or hard enough and never being at peace even when you do (pain is just weakness leaving the body. Or the symptoms of a near-fatal brain haemorrhage.)
It’s about counting down every single fucking mile or kilometer you’ve left to run before you can stop and eat cake.
It’s about sticking to joyless plans and always being behind schedule.
It’s about knowing the futility of exercise when your diet’s been shit and you’re trying to burn off 3,000 calories worth of nachos on a 4 mile jog.
It’s about calling yourself a “fat cunt” when you think you’re alone but in actual fact someone is behind you and they are gonna have genuine questions about your sanity.
It’s about the cancer of jealousy and envying those who have worked hard for results, whilst you sit around eating Haribo and drinking craft beer like a dead end cunt whilst expecting to be Haile fucking Gebreslassie.
It’s about feeling incredibly alone out there when you nod to jogger after jogger but none of them reciprocate as they are too tied up in their own plans.
It’s about constantly performing the 2 finger test when you’ve been farting on the run and all of the self hatred you feel about being an incontinent adult.
It’s about seeing all the grinning lobotomised cunts on the front of the fitness magazines and wondering why you feel so empty and slow.
But despite all this I continue to fucking jog.
72.5k for the week. 7 weeks now above 60k.