I've actually completed the three Week 1 runs! Without dying! Wooo! (Though if no further posts appear from me, and not that I'm a pessimist - just acutely aware of how unfit I am - you have my permission to assume the worst...)
Didn't think I'd even manage Week 1 tbh, as the last time I tried running, about three years ago, I think I made the 200m mark then my chest seized up and I genuinely began to fear for my life. (Ok, yes, I may have a tendency for melodrama.)
Today I altered my usual route (canal: nice and flat, if a bit scary when you get hissed at by geese and swans) to go through the woods instead. A bit muddy, but I do like trees, so a great plan, thought I...until I came to the first hill.
Ok, so admittedly I can't even really call it a hill. It was a short incline, really. But a shock to my poor legs none the less. At top of said incline I had visions of collapsing halfway through the 20 minutes, but worse was to come: the podcast decided to time it just right for me to complete my 60second run up a very, very steep incline (I actually feel justified in calling this one a short, sharp hill). Again, thoughts of collapse - nay, death - swam through my oxygen-starved brain. Would this be my final hour/60 seconds? Would I fall to the ground, feeling my grip on life waning as I spent my last moments on Earth (mud) listening to Laura's dulcet tones as higher forces guide me towards the light?
No. The sharper amongst you will note that I could not write this tedious blog post from the Other Side (unless BT has made dramatic leaps forward in its fibreoptic broadband project). I am in fact alive and pretty well, to the best of my knowledge, and with this morning's early bird run an hour or so behind me and my legs and lungs no longer complaining pitifully, I'm actually rather looking forward to the challenge of Week 2. Am I mad?