I’m not exactly well-known for my love of heat. In fact, evidence that the sun and I simply do not get along has been very much clear since my childhood, and peaked when I contracted sunstroke aged 13 whilst in Provence on the year 9 French exchange. Last Sunday my boyfriend (who, if I know one person even worse in the heat than me, is him!) and I were signed up to do the Hackney half marathon.
In the summer of 2013, my whole world fell apart. The universe has a chilling tendency to chuck a curveball when you are least expecting it and on the 20th June 2013 my life took an unexpected twist.
1. Endorphins. This is the the primary reason running makes me so happy. I mean, it’s scientific fact. Running gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy and people generally are a fan of things which make them feel good, right? Seriously though, running massively improves my mood, particularly if I’m in a bad one.
Last weekend I ran a half marathon. Except ran isn’t really the right word for what I did for more than half of it. I hopped, limped, shuffled, hobbled and dragged myself around the final 11km, exhausting every last ounce of my physical and mental energy in the process.
From time to time everyone struggles for motivation, from the newest runner training for their first 5 or 10km, to the seasoned ultra-marathoner, and everyone in between. Perhaps particularly everyone in between. For me, a lack of motivation tends to often tie in with lack of time.
Whilst a certain amount of stress is a natural part of every day life, I’ve always been something of a excessive worrier. Despite the fact that I was pretty young when I first came to acknowledge that I probably do worry somewhat more than is normal, or indeed, healthy, it was only last year that I was actually diagnosed with anxiety.