I ran 5k for the first time in my life last night.
We started out later than usual. My daughter ( /trainer/drill sergeant) is studying hard for major exams in 4 weeks time and we wait until she's finished studying to go. So we found ourselves in the car at 9:15pm heading for the 'Crosshaven walk' which is a stunning public walk, built on an old riverside rail track, near our home.
It should probably be noted at this stage that I have diligently avoided this local beauty spot for years. I actually loathed it and allowed it to become my nemesis, totally 'opting out' of any walks with friends etc that took place there. (Clearly I was avoiding the exercise more than the geographical location....but hey - hindsight!) Then, a couple of weeks ago when the programme's step up in distance became more difficult, I was forced to overcome my irrational loathing and run there on the seductively flat route.
The air of excitement owing to this being our 'graduation night' was tempered by the deserted carpark and the fact that we would be hard pressed to get back before dark. Off we went. Abbie was her usual chirpy self, peppering the first 10 minutes with little stories and her funny observations about the run and at this point I could even answer her (ok maybe it's only grunting a word or two back but that's a big improvement ok).
The second mile is generally more tense and last night was no exception. This is where the pains in the shins / calves kick in and I start to really concentrate on my breathing. This is where the battle is fought, far enough in to hurt, but not far enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel. This battle takes place not in my calves, thighs or overburdened lungs. This battle is fought completely in my mind. If I allow my thoughts to become negative, this middle mile becomes my own private hell. At this point the mantras that I have developed over the last 9 weeks get repeated over and over. After around 100 repetitions of 'No opting out!' followed by a similar amount of 'just one foot in front of the other' and my personal favourite 'just follow her, you can do it!' I see the railway signal that is one mile from the finish.
After that, it get's easier. Well, maybe easier is the wrong word but my internal barometer goes from stormy to a kind of calm. I hear Abbie's voice again (I swear I hear nothing that middle mile!) and she sounds happy too. Every glance she makes at the distance tracker and every 0.1 of a mile is lifting me higher. Her 'keep it up Mum' and 'going really well' comments have me smiling now. Then she says 'only 0.3 of a mile left Mum' and I think to myself, I'm not beaten - sprint finish! To Abbie's delight I crank up the pace and go that last leg faster than I have run before.
All that in 35 minutes - 3.2 miles or 5k. Check that off the list!
Next stop 4 mile run 17th May. Now, logically maybe I should wonder how I'm going to increase from 5 to 6.5k in a week, but actually I'm not. I've got something stronger than logic. I've got BELIEF.
See ya at the finish line ;)
We started out later than usual. My daughter ( /trainer/drill sergeant) is studying hard for major exams in 4 weeks time and we wait until she's finished studying to go. So we found ourselves in the car at 9:15pm heading for the 'Crosshaven walk' which is a stunning public walk, built on an old riverside rail track, near our home.
It should probably be noted at this stage that I have diligently avoided this local beauty spot for years. I actually loathed it and allowed it to become my nemesis, totally 'opting out' of any walks with friends etc that took place there. (Clearly I was avoiding the exercise more than the geographical location....but hey - hindsight!) Then, a couple of weeks ago when the programme's step up in distance became more difficult, I was forced to overcome my irrational loathing and run there on the seductively flat route.
The air of excitement owing to this being our 'graduation night' was tempered by the deserted carpark and the fact that we would be hard pressed to get back before dark. Off we went. Abbie was her usual chirpy self, peppering the first 10 minutes with little stories and her funny observations about the run and at this point I could even answer her (ok maybe it's only grunting a word or two back but that's a big improvement ok).
The second mile is generally more tense and last night was no exception. This is where the pains in the shins / calves kick in and I start to really concentrate on my breathing. This is where the battle is fought, far enough in to hurt, but not far enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel. This battle takes place not in my calves, thighs or overburdened lungs. This battle is fought completely in my mind. If I allow my thoughts to become negative, this middle mile becomes my own private hell. At this point the mantras that I have developed over the last 9 weeks get repeated over and over. After around 100 repetitions of 'No opting out!' followed by a similar amount of 'just one foot in front of the other' and my personal favourite 'just follow her, you can do it!' I see the railway signal that is one mile from the finish.
After that, it get's easier. Well, maybe easier is the wrong word but my internal barometer goes from stormy to a kind of calm. I hear Abbie's voice again (I swear I hear nothing that middle mile!) and she sounds happy too. Every glance she makes at the distance tracker and every 0.1 of a mile is lifting me higher. Her 'keep it up Mum' and 'going really well' comments have me smiling now. Then she says 'only 0.3 of a mile left Mum' and I think to myself, I'm not beaten - sprint finish! To Abbie's delight I crank up the pace and go that last leg faster than I have run before.
All that in 35 minutes - 3.2 miles or 5k. Check that off the list!
Next stop 4 mile run 17th May. Now, logically maybe I should wonder how I'm going to increase from 5 to 6.5k in a week, but actually I'm not. I've got something stronger than logic. I've got BELIEF.
See ya at the finish line ;)
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