Anyone who knows me know I’m not the biggest fan of getting off the sofa and actually doing something. In fact tonight, in a bout of forgetfulness and cold and flu symptom induced idiocy, I completely forgot it was aerobics night, until Mum phoned me at 6 o’clock (when the class was due to start) at which point I was sat watching telly with a whole pizza on my plate about to tuck in.
However, and largely because I do regularly eat whole pizzas by myself, I am trying to get into running. Changing my eating habits would be hard – I figured starting an exercise regime would be the lesser of two evils on two counts. One, it would probably be easier than dieting (I really like cake) and two, I thought it would be better for me in the long run.
So, as long time readers will know, I joined a gym, and except when I completely forget to go, I’d been having a reasonable time with it. But our gym is small and stuffy and not terribly motivating, and it costs a lot of money. When my membership comes up for renewal in september I won’t be forking out £300+ quid for another year.
To this end, I am trying to get into running.
Now, perhaps foolishly underestimating our ability, Mum and I signed up to do a 5K Race for Life a few months ago, figuring by the time we got to do it, we would be fit enough. Now, a whole catalogue of things have transpired against us – including my dodgy hip injury and various illnesses, but we also didn’t train as often and as hard as we should have.
However, when we came to do the race last sunday, we were both very proud of our achievements.
It was a beautiful day – a little bit too hot for running up a great big hill, for my tastes, but I couldn’t complain about the beauty of the summer sunshine and the location, Weston Park. The sight of 3000+ women dressed in pink was very motivating and despite some trepidation, I was excited to get started.
We ran (very slowly) for a good 1.5K. Which in itself was an achievement, as many of the ‘joggers’ underestimated themselves considerably more than we did, piling to a halt at about 200m. Dodging in and out of the crowd was difficult, and after a while proved impossible as the terrain turned to hill and narrowed considerably. I got cut off from Mum and was unable to catch up with her for the rest of the race, which was a bit of a shame, but as she so succinctly put it: by the halfway mark, we were in no shape to be talking.
It didn’t seem to take very long to get round, and though I walked a fair way, I still had the energy to do a mad burst of proper sprinting running at the end. Mum had already made it to the finish a few minutes before me and cheered me through the finish line.
It was an emotional and inspirational day, and I have surprised myself by wanting to do it again. Which to me suggests that I might actually be getting into this running lark.
To that end, I’m not going to tick off the ‘Run 5K’ on my Day Zero list until I can do a Race for Life and actually run the whole way. We’re going out for a jog this saturday to pick the training regime up properly. This time next year maybe we’ll be thinking about running 10K!
(Picture ruthlessly stolen from QWERTYmum who did a much better write up than me. I blame illness.)