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
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