At the beginning of this year I set myself a goal. Technically the goal was to run the Auckland half marathon (happening in November). Mentally, it was to teach myself to love something that I find incredibly difficult.
I have always admired runners. The potential to literally run away with your thoughts seemed not only beautiful, but inspiring to me. But every time I had ever tried it had been embarrassing and just plain hard.
Now, don’t get me wrong, hard things don’t scare me. Sports does. I grew up in a family filled with artists and graphic designers, the closest I got to physical activity when I was growing up was climbing the steps to my front door (don’t knock that Olympic sport until you have lived on the top floor of a Dutch apartment).
So in January of this year, when I set myself this goal, I got on a treadmill and ran. My complete physical exhaustion (jelly leg to the extreme) hit at 3k. It had taken me 30 minutes.
Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, Saturday the 1st of June. That day I ran 10k. In 1 hour and 5 minutes. I am not going to lie, I am bloody stoked. For those of you who know me, you will know that was a challenge for my short legs (for those of you who don’t know me… lets just say I can wear any height of heel I like and I still look up at those around me). I’m fairly sure I didn’t look like my runspiration, but I did it.
There were some moments where I wanted to give in (in a melodramatic toddler tantrum throwing session – of course). And I am not even half way. So I decided I will blog about those times when I want to kick and scream and shout at people who I pass (or more often, who pass me). I think it will help.
At the very least it should give you a laugh.