Running Today For The First Time In A Week & Losing A Bag Full Of Running Shorts On The Tube.
I’m pretty fucking annoyed with myself tonight.
I spent two hours inside Decathalon picking out a series of their cheapest running shorts and tonight I left the fucking shopping bag on the tube.
I am a fucking tube.
I reported it to the Tube staff and they were very helpful but I’m not holding out much hope that I’ll see them again.
I haven’t had much joy with running shorts since I moved here.
First of all I only packed 1 pair of them with me on the plane. Then I bought a new pair for the Brighton half marathon and they were 2 sizes too small.
I’m cautious about asking my mother to airmail my old ones over in case a police sniffer god smells them, goes postal and eats the face off his master.
I did no running this week whatsoever up until today.
The idea of this 100k has been preying on my mind. I’ve been doubting my sanity and ability. I’ve been wanting to quit running altogether.
I hate falling into this mindset but I’ve been doing nothing to help myself.
Instead of countering my doubt with action I’ve been feeding my fucking face to try to forget everything.
I need to deal with it better starting tonight. I’m tired of writing sentences like “oh I have to recommit, I have to eat more healthily, blah blah fucking blah”.
Suck a cock, any cock and win a fucking prize.
But it’s not all bad news.
I’ve been here before mentally and I’ve always come back stronger.
The truth is that I do love the act of running. I just drive myself fucking mad with all of the shit around it like time, pacing and weekly mileage.
It ruins it. I long for a simpler era where I can just run for the sake of it and not give a fuck about anything else.
Putting one foot in front of the other is bliss. Thinking about training schedules is fucking piss.
I did run today.
I wasn’t going to.
When I woke up this morning I thought to myself “what’s the point in just recording 6 measly miles for the week? It’s a write-off! Just stay in bed and forget about everything.
I went out and did 8.7 miles in 85 minutes. It wasn’t a bad run in fairness. I wasn’t fast but I did feel strong.
I walked for about 4 miles as well around Central London and my dinner tonight consisted of fruit and a stick of Pepparami.
I am trying but sometimes it feels like one step forward 2 steps back. I shouldn’t be writing a blog offering lifestyle advice whilst I’m this fucking mental.
I want to usher in a new period in my life but to do that I have to start now. No-one is gonna save me from myself. I’m 100% responsible for all of this.
That’s why I bought the running shorts and t-shirts. I’m starting a Pure Gym in Oval tomorrow but unfortunately I’ll be wearing my old smelly running shorts.
In the past I’d have taken this as a sign from the Gods that I wasn’t meant to be at the gym. But now? I don’t care who the fuck I offend with the stench from these bad boys.
I’m getting back on track. It takes far more mental energy to feel like a lazy bastard than it does to just go out there and do it.
It’s never as bad as you think it’s gonna be. Today’s run proved that. I’ve done well for myself this year and it will continue to get better if I breathe, move slowly and love what I’m doing.