This blog will be a step away from the norm. I will wind in the whimsicality and go for something as straight-up and functional as a pair of Nuns’ knickers. Of course, it will probably hit a 1.5 on the sensibility scale of a rational mind, but hey! I'm trying. Just this once though mind.
See those girls up there? They're my world. I was caught in two minds whether to post that picture or not as it's a bit over-personal, but I love it. Abi (the little cutie in the middle) has just started nursery and they asked us to provide a family photo for Valentine's Day so she could talk about the people she loves, so last week we all climbed into her little cotbed for a family selfie, including George and Rabbit.
It's obviously not going to nestle poignantly with anyone else, but I can't get the image out of my head.
I was blowing towards the end of my second eight-minute run tonight (W5R2), and remembered during one of the earlier runs that MJ talks about visualising the finish line to help push you through, and tonight, this was my finish line. As wet and corny as I know it sounds, the thought of these two waiting and watching for me to come will pull me across some tough kilometres and are my inspiration, motivation and prize.
I've turned my wife into something of a character in these blogs, which is (mostly) to fit the narrative and hopefully provide a few laughs, but the reality of the situation is that she's the kindest, most supportive person I've ever known and I'm ridiculously lucky not just to have her sharing my peculiar little existence, but to be mother to our daughter.
Christ. I am run-drunk.
Ta shi wo de zui ai.
A bit of Chinese there for you. Bet you didn't know that I spreken ze duetsch did you? Well, I don't, but I do speak (a bit of) Chinese. I actually spent five and a half years living and working there. Bet you didn't know that either did you? Don't worry though, I doubt it'll be popping up in any pub quizzes in the near future.
Anyway...what's the point I'm trying to make with all this? Ah yes, motivation. I was wondering what everyone's motivation is. I don't mean for just being here, but rather what is it that can pull you through the brick wall when your mind and body have handed in their notice and scarpered off with the stationary? Does anyone else have such vivid imagery?
Tonight, as I mentioned, was my W5R2. I see a lot of focus on here for W5R3 (and my oar will be well and truly dipped momentarily) but there's a stealthy milestone in run 2 that I guess a lot of people miss. When that halfway bell goes, you are 13.5 runs into a 27 run programme and thus halfway through the entire saga. Obviously, it's the foreplay half of the romp though, before the main action begins.
And it's about to begin.
W5R3. Everyone's on about it. I'm one of those people who, right at the start, clicked on every run to see what's in store. When I saw this one, I was naively excited and thought, "Well, by then all of those other runs would've turned my into a nimble, lithe Adonis and I'd be able to do it with a dwarf strapped to my back". It's only when you get right up against it and you're staring into its yellowing, bloodshot eyes that you realise you're in all sorts of mischief. I'm typing 'you', but I mean me.
I'm not ready for this. Not even close. This programme has led me up to the precipice and all the way there has been telling me I would grow wings. And I haven't. Not even nubs.
I run too fast, I know this, but all the jokes about wayward limbs and discombobulation aside, that's just kind of the way I am. I'm genuinely struggling to find a low rhythm and when I've tried, I seem to tense my legs up and stamp them down by way of restriction. Last couple of runs I've felt really good again, going at a pace that feels natural and sync'd. And, surprisingly, it isn't actually wreaking havoc on my thingamajig as much as you would've thought.
Er, for anyone reading one of my posts for the first time, my thingamajig isn't my thingamajig, it's my knee. I'm just bored of writing knee. Mine's the only keyboard in the world where the 'k' is worn out before most of the vowels.
But going back. When I was young, fresh and foolish (back in week 2), I got coerced into signing up for a 10K run in May. That gives me about 10 weeks to get there and I'm not even going to come close. My old shanty of a frame has already got a list of complaints that could fill a whole episode of Points of View. "Why, oh why, oh why, oh why".
When my colleagues signed me up, I thought I've got to run it, or not bother, but I'm sat here now thinking it doesn't need to be this polarised. I suddenly enjoy running so much that I feel incredibly guilty about taking that extra time away from the family. It seemed OK when it was chore, but now that it's become a hobby, I feel like I'm shirking my duties. But the good thing about it being a hobby is that hobbyists don't need be world-beaters, they just quietly enjoy what they do.
So what if I can't run for 20 minutes straight in a couple of days? So what if I end up walking halfway round a 10K run? Does it matter? I know that the people I care about will be waiting for me at that finish line and whether I sprint across, walk across or do a handstand and my shorts fall up, revealing something that would horrify a nurse, it's all going to be the same. I will have achieved something that I enjoy doing, with plenty of health benefits and they care about it because they care about me. That's why they're encouraging me out the door. I think.
I've dropped the pressure off. If I can't do it in a couple of days, I'll do what I can and go again. And again. And again until I can.
I do really need to learn to find that lower pace though. Two sets of eight minutes and it felt like I was looking through a kaleidoscope.
*PAUSE*
Paul takes the computer off of his lap and walks to the window. He parts the curtains just enough to that one eye can scan the immediate vicinity. He turns back towards the room and walks back to where he was sitting, shaking his head and muttering. He picks the computer up again.
I swear I can hear you tutting from here.