This blog isn’t about weight loss, if I’m honest, I don’t remember the last time I got on the scales, because quite simply ‘what I saw every time fucking depress -ed me’ When did I start measuring my self worth based on a couple of digits? (actually when you think about it, it is rather insane)
Its my second week of getting up at 5.45am, getting me kit on, ‘its not a good look, let me tell thee’ I bang my Spotify on, set me run keeper app and I’m off. – sounds so easy and simplistic doesn’t it, but I’ll let you into a secret, this is a BIG deal for me, when I started running last year, it was winter, so them early morning runs were mainly in the dark ‘This was why I ran in the morning, because it felt more comfortable’ because no one would see me AND me kangaroo pouch bouncing up and down. However the more I ran, the lighter the mornings became, the more comfortable I became ‘in my own skin’ I love jogging pass the morning dog walkers saying ‘Morning’ and no longer worry about what they think about me, I mean really who gives fuck? well I did, but my point is, I don’t know these people personally, so why am I allowing a complete stranger make me feel ashamed, well in theory I wasn’t, it wasn’t them, it was me….
I’ve started to love going for me early morning run, this morning I did just under 2 miles (1.93 to be exact) when I was training for the half marathon, I was happy with the 12 minute miles I was attaining. When I decided to start going for a morning runs again, I set off out of the house and headed up my road (small incline) and did a fast walk, to warm myself up, at the top, I upped me pace into a gentle jog. I remember thinking ‘fuck me I’m unfit again, that didn’t take long!’ But then I reminded myself (Had a word) ‘Christ Tracey, gi thee sen a break, you’ve just been on holiday, drinking everyday sunbathing, do pretty much fuck all exercise, why are you surprised it feels uncomfortable’
With that in mind, I decided to just take me time (after all its not a fucking race) at the top of the road, the road starts to decline ‘great a reprieve, now that feels better’ at the bottom of the road, I take a left turn, another hill but, I reason with myself its shorter and if I take my time, I’ll soon be back onto flat surface.
Half way up, I’m breathing and sweating like a fucking xxxxxx (xxxxx is what really wanted to say, but it was highly inappropriate). so here I am pushing through it! I’m telling me sen ‘I don’t like this, this is not, nice!’ then I had a light bulb moment ‘WALK THEN, ya fucking weirdo’ simple eh? after all:
- its not a race
- im not holding anyone back, I’m on my own
- I look round and the views are impressive – take the views in, take a mental photo
I’m supposed to be enjoying this – well I am now I’m walking, I actually started to laugh at myself, if anyone had seen me they would have thought I was a weirdo too!
I picked up my pace again, nice and steady and started to get me own little swagger on, and continued at that pace all the way home. I get home check my runkeeper app, 14 minute miles. ‘I’ll take that’ because you know what? as soon as I #had a word wi me sen, I loved every minute of it! I didn’t lose half a stone, i certainly didn’t look healthier (in fact, I looked like xxxxxxxxxx) I’m still not saying it!
BUT I felt fucking amazing, sometimes I do feel like shouting ‘stop the fucking world I want to get off!’ I sat on the back garden, wi me black coffee and vape, making the most of the post exercise come down, that natural high, you get after doing something slightly energetic and I felt bloody amazing, OMG i am having a day ja view moment… ‘Ive been writing this blog before, weird, but a nice weird.
Anyway, back to me blog, the point I am trying to make is, it was a subtle reminder to self that, I can make anything as hard or as easy as I want.
‘Do I want to measure a successful run by how many minute miles I did? or how hard it felt? Nah do I fuck,
The only person putting pressure on myself was ‘ME’. Does it matter how fast, or how far I ran, at least I DID IT and now I’m sat here at my little Ikea desk writing about it and sharing it with you, before have to get of me ass and to work.
Love Tracey x