Warming-up: in more ways than one...

So. On Wednesday, I went for my very first run in a long while, which marked the beginning of this thing for me. Unlike James, I’m not entirely a running virgin, but I am pretty inexperienced. My ‘running career’ (pffft) up to this point has mainly revolved around a well-known charity race, which I’ve done a handful of times now (you can probably guess which one from the colour of the shorts shown below). But, somehow, this feels very different. I am running alone, without an ally, and without a friendly group of Zumba instructors at hand to do a warm up. Where’s the inspirational messages pumping out over a loudspeaker? Why can’t I hear David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ playing in the background? And why, oh why are there no stewards around to hand me much-needed bottles and snacks?

I guess I’ve been living in a fairytale running world, up until now. This is reality, I think to myself. This is gritty. This is what it’s like to be a common jogger.

I tried to make it as fun as possible for myself. I can’t really do exercise unless it is heavily sugar-coated, and disguised as something completely different to its painful reality. Okay, so I didn’t exactly go running in fancy dress, but I did make sure that I would have every chance to look as nice as possible by buying some snazzy new sports gear. 

I'm not sure why I bought these, either.

It’s pretty difficult to get excited about Lycra, but prior to leaving I honestly thought I didn’t look too bad at all; almost a bit professional. Perhaps my attire alone could make a super-runner out of me, and I would have the ability to fool the whole world (or at least the population of Aberystwyth) that I know what I’m doing.

However-it took a mere 2 minutes for the illusion of my capabilities to fade. The weather wasn’t exactly helping me along-with the sun beating down at 24 degrees, my little Welsh body was being stifled by a humidity which felt entirely alien. I became tired very quickly, and was sweating buckets; literally dripping with sweat, which isn’t attractive by any degree of the imagination. Then, things gradually got worse-I was granted with the mother ducker of all stiches, I felt sick, and I was sure that I was going to throw up on someone’s front door-step any second. ‘It wasn’t meant to be like this’, I kept thinking to myself sadly. ‘I’m meant to feel on top of the world, not like I’ve had a fight with a dodgy kebab after one too many jagerbombs’.

When I got back home, I had to lie down in a darkened room for 25 minutes, playing dead, in order to make a full recovery. When I finally felt like a human again, I went downstairs to the living room-and  quickly descended into becoming 75 year old by falling asleep in front of the telly. Pathetic, really, considering I’d ran a grand total of 0.5 miles.

However-the experience wasn’t all bad. I ran into a handful of people I knew on the seafront (not literally, may I add), and although this had previously been something I was dreading they actually cheered me along a bit. That’s one of my favourite things about running-that feeling that everything and everyone wants to push you along, to help you out in your personal mission, in a non-committal manner.

I also learnt that putting your belongings in your socks is a great way to keep them safe whilst running; my house key didn’t budge. It’s the little things.

So-run number 1 was interesting, to say the least. If this heatwave continues, I’ll stick to shady areas next time-gaining a local recognition as being ‘the beetroot-coloured girl’ is something that I’d like to avoid.

Hope xx

Whoops, there goes my virginity.

I've never run before. I never planned on running in the near future, but here I am a running virgin.

I'd planned to go running this afternoon with a friend, but due to the unusual hot weather and other commitments our plans fell through. But as the afternoon wore on, the sun dipped appetisingly behind the first row of houses and the washing up mounted on the faux granite work tops I decided I had to run today. I had to run now. Besides I'd allowed myself 3 more rich tea biscuits with lunch on the proviso I'd be doing some form of physical assertion.

So, I got myself ready. Most beginnings require a costume change and this was no different as I headed upstairs to change into my brand new Nike "Zoom air" shoes (clearly named by a sporty person) and my David Hasselhof red shorts, it dawned on me that this project was really going to be tough. Not just physically but I was going out in public wearing polyester gym shorts, like what is this? Senior school P.E? Those who know me are aware I enjoy a nice tailored short, or a Capri pant at best, not some flailing 'active' number. The most active thing about my day is usually staying stood up long enough to make risotto (and that's a while).

But there I was, stood by the entrance to Plas Crug, the polyester nipping at my knees in the evening breeze. Nothing but me, the open road, a couple of giggling school children, an old lady with an Alsatian, a man slurping something out of a brown paper bag and my planned route. 

I was out of my comfort zone.

 

I've never looked like this in my life.

I would be lying if I said it was easy, I would be lying if I said I'd chosen the right route, I would be lying if I said I didn't nearly vomit and pass out near the entrance to the university farm. It was awful. Not in the "I'm never doing that again" sense of the word, but the gruelling "whens it going to end" type. To those of you who run or perhaps 'seasoned joggers' (sounds like you've been covered in salt and pepper) my lamenting may sound like hyperbole, but really: I nearly died.

It's funny that it's only when you finish one of the most exhausting experiences of your life that people decide to give you advice. "Oh, you shouldn't be running up hill in this heat" my mother retorted, as I lay crumpled on the laminate wooden flooring, "You need to work up to that, start on the flat". Yes thank you mother.

Of course, this advice seems so obvious but I'm a dreamer I thought to myself "I've walked up all these hills before, surely running is no different", but I literally can't feel my legs.

I decided early on (because even though I was in pain I still wanted to conquer my pre-planned route (I'm nothing if not loyal)) , that I'd stop little and often along the way. It was then it dawned on me that standing by the roadside, in little red shorts, bent over double was not a healthy position to be in. One man offered me a lift in his tractor, I kindly declined.

When all is said and done, you can't beat the thrill. Jogging round the corner and seeing my house on the horizon I felt a sense of achievement, I felt a fire burning inside me, I felt a tightness in my chest (maybe a sense of pride, maybe asthma. We'll never know). The feeling of completion, of joy, of euphoria (no I'm not Swedish).

Perhaps that feeling of fulfilment is what motivates you to do anything, be it physical, mental or otherwise. Yes, 4.6 miles was maybe a little too much for my first attempt and yes, I'll probably be in a lot of agony in a minute but I feel proud to say: "Look what I did".

And so, in a roundabout way, that's how I lost my virginity. Let's just hope I can walk in the morning.

James xx

What's this, then?

Hello, whoever this may be (probably one of our many Facebook friends). Firstly, thank you for trusting us enough and having the curiosity to click on the link. You've made it to a little corner of the internet that's really rather boring at the moment, but we hope to make it pretty exciting. 

This is because we've all just decided to take on a challenge by becoming runners, jogging regularly for at least the next 2 months. Our aim is to uncover our inner joggers, and to create something wonderful out of what we find, eventually. We're prepared to sweat, stretch, starjump, win, fail, drink, gasp and get our our legs out. We're even prepared to run in the rain.

This isn't for charity, unusually, and we won't ask for your money at any time (probably). Rather selfishly, this is something we're primarily doing for ourselves. None of us are natural runners, but we all love testing our limits, and we want to feel our bodies morph into those of amateur athletes. We want to go back to our roots and to be as instinctive as our ancient ancestors. We want to find out why it feels so easy to run, and yet so difficult at the same time. And we want to explore why we, as human beings, feel the need to run our lives away-both literally and metaphorically. 

This blog will act as a documentation of our experiences, our research, our ups and our downs. We also hope that it will act as a springboard to create a fantastic piece of theatre out of our experiences, which is our end goal. If you have anything you'd like to share with us, at any time, then please feel free to comment. We'll be setting up all means of social media so that you can have your say-as loudly and clearly as possible.

But for now, we still stand at the starting line. Please follow us as we start to run.

Hope, Emily and James x