Running 55 miles In A Week And Recovering From An Almighty Slump.
Well it seems that spring has finally arrived here in the UK and I for one am fucking glad.
It has been a very long winter and I love nothing more than the longer sunny days as it is so much easier to fit a run in without resorting to excuses.
Anyway enough of my hippy fucking babbling.
This week was great for running and exercise in general. I managed 43 miles of road running and another 20k on the treadmill in the gym.
I did a little bit of everything including some speed work on Wednesday and Friday, an excellent 17 miler through Tottenham on Saturday and then an additional 10 miles today through Hyde Park.
I’m delighted that my fitness has seemingly improved in my month here in London when by all accounts it should have decreased with all of the new food that I have been eating.
Arguably the worst run was today’s I was exhausted after yesterday’s long run and the additional 5 miles I walked through London after it.
I made the mistake of starting out after noon which meant the park was already thriving with fellow runners and families.
Unfortunately this brought out the angry side in me. Every time I tried to run past someone who was staring down at their smart phone I squirted out some Lucozade Sport past their heads as a way to try to make them wake the fuck up.
I have nothing against those who use their smart phones in public. It is just the silly absent minded cunts who stop in their tracks with headphones in that make me want to run amok.
I wasted at least half a bottle of Lucozade through squirting which was unfortunate as by 2pm it was quite hot outside and my mouth was as dry as a nun’s crack. By the last mile I came perilously close to squirting a 6 foot 4 Latino male in the head with a blast.
Fortunately I missed otherwise you would have heard about me on the news.
About 100m further down the path I got mocked by a bunch of skinheads who saw me attempt to throw the empty drinks bottle in the garbage, only for me to miss and jog around the back to throw it back in.
I did this all without stopping. I wanted to shout ‘suck it up you cunts I’m styling!’ but I like living.
I ended the run in the highly congested Speaker’s Corner which is a place in Hyde Park where fucking nutjobs of all stripes get to debate who is the greatest fucking nutjob of them all.
Several of the orators by the side tried to stop me for a chat about God, Allah or Krishna but I basically told each of them in my thick Ulster drawl that ‘I don’t honestly give a fuck.’.
I came away from Northern Ireland partly to escape religion but it seems that there are just as much or even more fucking mentalists here.
Finally moving forward.
I wake up every day with my fears for the 100k as the first thing on my mind. Instead of letting it break me I channel my fear into action.
I try to do all of the little things right.
Instead of catching the bus to the Tube I walk the mile there.
Instead of having a footlong Sub for breakfast I go for the 6 inch.
Instead of calling my morning runs off because of a lack of time I turn those sessions into speed runs.
Instead of telling myself that I am too tired for the gym I say to myself that the exercise will make me sleep better and I’ll awake feeling great.
Instead of drinking my fears away from regarding both the 100k and the book I go home after the gym and try to read as much as I can to improve my writing.
I used to consider myself my own worst enemy and sometimes I guess I still am. It is only recently that I’ve considered the possibility of becoming my own best ally. 30 years of self hate and confusion didn’t lead me anywhere good.
It is time for a change and a time to end the blame.