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.
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,…
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.
My first week of (f)unemployment took me to the New Forest for a few days of walking, cycling and harassing wild horses. Culminating, last Sunday, with the Oxford half marathon. Oxford appealed to me for two reasons, firstly because back in 2010 I lived there for a period of 3 months, but secondly and more importantly, because the Oxford half takes place on the same day as London Royal Parks Half Marathon.
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.
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.