I am training for a half marathon.
This will shock all people who know me as I am:
2. Shit at running
4. Have only just learnt how to spell no. 3 through iPhone auto correct. Technology sure is something, isn’t it?
I decided to train for this event like a sensible person. However I have found that instead of finding it an enjoyable and rewarding experience, instead I fully HATE AND DETEST 98% of all running I do.
And today I had two prime examples of why I dislike running so much.
To begin with, I’m running well and feeling like I look, not to brag but… just wonderful. This is usually at the very start of my run and I amuse myself by imagining all the cars whizzing past are thinking how professional and awesome I look.
But then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I get this deep, intense BURNING sensation in my CHEST.
And for a moment I think:
‘This is it. I’m going to die right here right now in this stupid fluorescent yellow top and restrictive leggings.’
So after I have hobbled/ ‘jogged’ past all other pedestrians on the road (just to keep up appearances) I duck into a driveway and grasp at my poor, defeated chest.
( And before you giggle, ‘grasp my chest’, you dirty minded people, has got nothing to do with me fondling my honky honks, it is merely a physical representation of how much pain is going on in the chest region.)
But nay, it is not a heart attack…this is not the end for me.
It is …stitch.
Stitch. Stitch is not the word for such torture. I suggest we rename it ‘stab’ or ‘surgery whilst awake’.
This example is not quite about running, but other people vs running.
Once I have limped back to my home, my sanctuary, my abode, I fall into the sofa and pine a drink from whomever is near.
But instead of a pat on the shoulder and an ice cold beverage, I get horrendous abuse from the know-it-alls I live with.
‘Stitch? Ah that’s because you… *insert completely scientific reason for my stitch that person has just made up*’
‘Aching? That’s because you….*did not do some sort of exercise that they have NEVER EVER done*’
Nose hurting is it? That’s because, with all the strength I can muster, I’ve just bopped you in it with my feebly weebly arm.
I can’t wait till this is over and I can get back to my normal, lazy existence.
back to my normal, lazy existence.