Finally, I have done my first run (well, sort of). With last week being snowy and then very slippery with all the ice, I was thoroughly bummed out that I finally had everything I needed and couldn't run. Saturday was going to be "the day", until partying people in the flat above kept me up till 3. Saturday was not going to be "the day", Sunday then.
Feely anxious and a bit guilty all of yesterday, I woke up this morning at 7. As a student, I haven't been up this early since I quit my summer job and, by Jupiter, I did not want to go. After throwing myself out of bed and getting dressed, I was out to face the freezing air. With its steep landscape, and this morning's added bonus of a 1 degree tornado sweeping me off my feet, I concluded that pre-dawn northern England was going to be challenging.
I noticed that running for 1 minute was all this couch potato could take, though running up hill sometimes forced me to stop a few seconds earlier. Also, walking briskly down a street that would function as a black piste during the Winter Olympics nearly made me trample over my own feet. Clearly, I needed to make some adjustments: I paused the podcast and started again at the bottom.
All in all, it was not as bad as I’d expected. No people looking at me weirdly – those lucky ones were still in their warm beds – and only a few cars, so running on the street was not such a big hazard. Let’s hope that next time I won’t have a side pinch and that the muscles in my feet get used to the fact that overpronation is no longer accepted and that they stop hurting.