Well. Here we are. I have teetered to the end of the C25K plank, and jumped.
I have found myself unmotivated to run these past few week 9 runs. I think part of it is due to reluctance to leave the safety net of the structure. What next? I’m not in the oat-fed thoroughbred racing stable, itching to go; I’m dozing off in the donkey ride section. I have had painful runs where for the last minute I have gazed at the countdown on my wrist, then lurched to a stop on the dot of coach’s ‘now slow to a walk’. The idea of breaking free and scanning new horizons doesn’t quite compute.
I got home and it was getting dark. I felt a bit tired… perhaps I should wait until tomorrow? Then I thought about running after C25K, and how easy it would be to slip out of the routine, if I didn’t run when there wasn’t really a good reason not to.
So I donned the clobber - thin leggings, thin sleeveless top (I have finally learned my lesson), and stepped out.
I was determined to try to enjoy this run. I didn’t want to grind to a hot gasping halt at the 30 minute line. I wanted to finish with something in the tank, so the engine will start again, even if the SatNav is gone.
My mantra was, slow down, stay comfortable. If I started to feel uncomfortable in any way, that is, breathing got a little ragged, temperature rising, knees tweaking: slow down; stay comfortable.
So that’s what I did.
I had planned to do a circular route, but it was so muddy that I turned round and retraced my steps, sticking to the road. It felt peaceful. I felt comfortable. I got to 20 minutes, then 25, and 30, and continued to feel comfortable. Why not? I thought. There is running beyond week 9, run 3, after all. So I kept plodding on, into the setting sun, with Rodriquez playing in my ear. It was all rather poetic.
I ran 5K today, and I felt good the whole way. The doctor said I would never run again.
He was wrong.
Thank you for all the support, gang.