There are a million reasons why, in the moment, you might not want something badly enough, even when you thought you did. You might have other priorities. You might not be able to give what is being demanded of you right then – and, that’s ok.
Somewhere, over the past couple years, I’ve started to focus less on finish lines and finish times, and more on the journey in between. And honestly, it’s transformed my attitude to running, and alongside that the enjoyment I get out of it.
I created this blog several years ago as I felt like I had something to say. Having created a platform, at the point when people started to actually engage with it, I dropped off. Why did I do this? Honestly, because I felt like a fraud.
After the disappointment of Brighton Marathon, and in spite of the fact that I can’t mentally keep my sh*t together for 26.2 miles, I sensibly decided that I wanted to do something even more challenging – I wanted to run further, I wanted to run harder, I wanted to run trails. I pitched the idea…
In terms of running, it’s been a pretty epic start to the year. It’s the second week of February, and I’ve run 4 races and got myself 4 PBs. (10km, 5km, half marathon, and 10km again.) It’s a phenomenal achievement, it is. And of course, I feel proud. However, it was right in the middle of all of this that I realised that while PBs are awesome, they’re not what it’s all about. At least for me.
For me, running is about the people you meet, the places you go (physically and figuratively) and the journies you take getting there. Running has quite literally taken me places I’d not been before; up hills in Iceland…
At the start of the year, I set myself the following running goals: To run the London Marathon To run a sub 2 hour half marathon To run a sub 50 10km To run a sub 25 minute 5km Now here we are at at the end of November, and since my last blog update,…
It’s taken me a month to get round to writing this. Partially, yes, because I have been busy, but partially because I’m not very good at facing up to failure. I’ve sat down and started this post several times, before deciding that it’s more important I do this-that-and the other and putting it off yet again.
Sometimes blogging feels like a chore, and when it does, I’ve started to leave it lately rather than force something out. My main aim with both running itself and writing this blog, has always been to enjoy myself and to just have fun with it. If I can inspire others through my experiences along the way then that really is the icing on the cake!
So, I’m just going to say it. Since the London Marathon, I have really, really struggled. Not so much with exercise in general (I can still muster up the enthusiasm to get out climbing or swimming) but in finding any motivation whatsoever to get out there and run.
So, as I’m sure you know, the London Marathon took place on the 23rd April 2017. For the last 10 days I’ve been a little bit naughty, and put off writing this blog post as the day exceeded all my wildest expectations, so much so, that I’m not sure my words here can ever do it justice.
As I sit here on Easter Sunday the London Marathon is just 7 days away! In fact, if everything goes to plan, this time next week I will hopefully have finished or be imminently finishing my first marathon.
Training for a marathon is tough. I feel like that’s an obvious statement as I’m not sure anyone goes into a marathon thinking it will be anything other than pretty bloody difficult, but you know, just in case. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that training for a marathon can (at times) be (almost) unbearable. An almost unbearable moment, or more accurately 3hrs and 2 minutes worth of moments, happened to me on Sunday, when I left the house planning to do my longest ever, 20 mile, run.