Hello all! Sorry for the silence. I could give you lots of excuses about life getting in the way, work, etc;, but I'd be lying. The baseline is that I'd lost my Mojo at the wrong time, and didn't want to come here and feel even less self-confident, or hypocritical about advising others on motivation when Gary the gremlin had taken mine hostage and stuffed it down the back of his settee with his empty crisp packets. Voilà.
For those who don't know, I signed up for my first HM six months ago, and have been training since then to achieve my goal. It is important to me, as it is to raise money for an association that made a huge difference for people I love at a very difficult time.
I haven't done all the runs on my programme, but I did pretty well and had built up to a 17.5k run. Then my progress was considerably hampered by a lung infection that cut down my running, and had me back to spluttering 5ks in walk-run intervals just a few weeks ago.
When you're used to going out there to run and dream as your feet get on with it, and suddenly your body tells you it's not going to happen, the resident gremlin steps up to the challenge.
Gary never refuses any opportunity to strut his stuff. Jubilantly trotting along beside me with his gut flopping and his grainy grey underpants riding up his bum, he crooned "See? TOLD you were an imposter. TOLD you you weren't a real runner. Even I can run faster than you today. Guess you'll have to walk then". So I did.
But then I ran again. Gary rolled his eyes. 'Off she goes again. Just sign up for the 10k, everyone will understand. Looooser. But then again, you know you've alway been one, right? Pretending that you're a runner all this time. Who are you kidding? Can't even fool yourself." I walked, yelling at Gary. Then ran. Then got overtaken by a romantic couple of retirees. And walked again. Gary loved that. I negative-talked myself practically into tears. The cherry on the cake was to get home and be told that I had not met my challenge and that I would never be ready in time.
I had two choices: seize up, or keep going. Time was ticking, and the HM would roll over the horizon anyway. So I stuck at it, kept going out, kept interval training, and gagged Gary for long as I could. The only way was forward with so little time left to train. I used the time to think things out, and on one of those walk/runs, it suddenly hit me: self-sabotage was killing my dream. The fear of failing was so strong that without realising, I had listened to that little voice that tells me not to take the risk of trying to succeed in case I fail. No attempt, no failure. I was setting myself up for failure, just to succeed in proving that I was a failure. Sounds twisted, but once I had understood that, it was a result on which I could build. I could either spend my life treading water, or I could take risks and maybe fail, but maybe succeed. Which was better?
Fast forward to yesterday, when I went out for a 9km run, and for the first time in a long time I finally found myself dreaming as I ran, grinning, and enjoying myself. I'm looking forward to my run on Sunday. I'm proud to be doing it for a good cause. Whatever my speed, whatever my time, it's a half marathon - more than I had ever imagined I could have run when I started C25K two and a half years ago. I'm happy to have found my mojo again, just in time for Sunday's run.
Lesson learnt: "Make sure that your worst enemy doesn't live between your own two ears". (Laird Hamilton).
I shall tuck your best wishes in the 'positive things' compartment in my brain - I'll pull them out along the way for inspiration 
I'm on it, just hoping the weather won't be too hot in the vineyards on Sunday...
slow-mo-mojo-hunting sunset jogette
Graduation 👩🎓 🏃♀️ (at last!)
W6 R3 done - with Michael and Gary
Someone pinch me....
Back in the embrace of my lover!
