Drama and woe-is-me alert.
Getting up this morning, gathering up my kit, dropping HtB off at the gym and making my way to the park, I was really looking forward to the final day of week 6. When I was told it was 25 minutes without stopping or walking, I was a bit daunted but tried to push past that and started off. 12.5 minutes later, I had a headache taking up residence behind my left eye, aching legs and the burning desire to throw my phone into the nearest bin if my virtual trainer piped up, interrupting my music and attempts at pacing just. one. more. time. After 6 weeks of hard slog, weight loss and pushing myself to finish the previous weeks, I only went and hit the bloody Wall.
I spent a few minutes standing stock still in the middle of the path and staring into space, I only realised i was doing so when a good samaritan tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was OK. Assuring the good soul that I was, I attempted to start running again, only for my legs to refuse to move. Another attempt yielded the same results. I couldn't get moving again. Once I managed it, I couldn't seem to get going beyond a walk and the programme's timer seemed to be crawling along.
Completely and utterly disappointed and disgusted with myself for, what I saw as, this spectacular failure of my stupid, lazy, lardy, worthless body to keep going for a simple 25 minute run, when I know it can do 20 without stopping, I miserably made my way back to the car, Goblin Cecelia following behind me in shock, even shouting after me: "Oi! You've been ignoring me for the last 6 weeks! Why in the hell are you listening to me now? You could finish your run, and...did I just say that?"
"Just leave me alone, Cecelia" I mumbled back, sliding quietly into the drivers seat and finally bursting into tears because I'd failed so badly at this hurdle then sending a quick 'woe is me' text to Mam to let her know just how badly I'd messed up. Honestly, all I could think about at that point was going home, deleting C25K from my phone, donating my nice purple and silver running shoes to someone better than me, someone who would complete the plan perfectly without even turning a hair or getting a stitch, before curling up on the sofa to nurse what was left of my self-esteem then returning all the sponsorship money to the nice people who gave it to me as there was no way I'd be able to do the Rainbow Run if I couldn't finish week 6.
HtB tried his best to cheer me up when we met up again, giving me hugs whilst telling me he thought my fitness and weightloss had come along in leaps and bounds over the last 6 weeks, to think about how much I could run for now compared to 6 weeks ago, how proud he was of me for it, how it was OK to finish it with a walk, but it was falling on deaf ears, as all I could think about was how much I'd achieved before and how it made failing today that much worse. I still resolved to finish Wk6D3 even if I died of a brain hemorrhage at the end or my lungs actually exploded in my chest when I was done and he could then at least put it on my grave marker "ran for 25 minutes without stopping' (HtB's response was "I care if you die of a brain hemorrhage or burst lungs. Please don't.")
He then put in a call to Mam who told me that she thinks part of the problem is that I run/jog too fast, which is part of the reason she stopped running with me as she found that she was pushing herself too hard to keep up with my rapid pace. She thinks the reason I couldn't finish is that I must have been going too fast to start with and hit the wall because I'd worn myself out halfway in. She then offered to go with me tomorrow morning, to try again, which would put us back into sync together, she's even offered to grab the back of my shirt if she thinks I'm running too fast. I agreed but still feel down about how I hit the wall today.
*deepsigh* hey-ho. Tomorrow is another day and there will be another way.