I've started pounding the pavement again. And on Saturday I pounded it hard - two hours. And here are some observations:
- I love, hate, worship and denegrate my sports bra. It is all that is evil, and I've no doubt when it eventually parts company with me, I'll shed a tear. The instructions to get into it almost require a degree in engineering, but you literally.do.not.move.
- When did I forget that running + chewing gum + no water bottle is the worst idea ever?
- The Evil Sports Bra removes the need for band-aids. Runners will know what I'm talkin' about.
- I am the only person I know who could get lost running in an area they've lived in for a year and a half and the second they walk through the door realise the phone they've taken with them and were using as a walkman has GPS. If I'm not, please tell me, because I felt very, very dopey.
- Where I live, there's no real way to avoid running on both pavement and hills for quite lengthy periods. Exactly what my ankle is going to think of that long-term, I have no idea. I pulled up a little propy on Saturday, but considering it's the first real pain I've had in it in a year, that's a slight concern. I suppose the only other options are driving to a running track or joining a gym. But will I be able to habit myself into the gym by myself? I used to go with my ex, and I was significantly fitter than now, because we'd cajole each other into going if one of us couldn't be bothered. Is a personal trainer the answer, perchance? Do they nag you? I have no idea. (I don't know anyone in this area, so buddy-ing is out)
- I am amazed, so very amazed, that given how long I have neglected my body for, if I start doing the right thing, it responds and does what I ask it to, and more. Why didn't I remember that? Why didn't I keep the endorphins in the front of my mind? Yes, it hurts, but it's good. GOOD. Although I have to be honest and say when I came in on Saturday from my run, I lay on the floor for a few moments because my house is tiled and I was very hot.
I used to be fit. I used to relish the idea of soccer or netball a few times a week or the gym or all of the above. I ran cross-country the day after some stupid idiot brought the exposed metal edge of a fold down chair down on my knee and it was being held together with steri-strips. I came fourth. I used to love this.
And I refuse to lose that completely. Enough neglect. Enough.
Oh, and if anyone has any ideas, let me know.