Why I love/hate running

It f*cks you up, running. It may not mean to, but it does. 

You know those people (me) who talk about how great running is for our physical and mental wellbeing? And those people (me again!) who write about the positive impact it’s had on them? 

Well, forget all that for a minute.

Let’s talk about frustrating it can be. How it messes with your mind. How, at times, it’s a love/hate relationship. 

I’m saying this after a race didn’t go to plan. 

I’d been focused in training and felt absolutely ready to take it on. I even wrote a blog about it. Ahh those heady moments of self-confidence!  

Then I developed a scratchy sore throat and cough. In my less-than-resilient state self-doubt crept in. 

The day dawned bright and icy cold. Frozen patches meant tricky conditions on a fast and flat course.

I finished in a slower time than my target. If you run, you’ve probably experienced what it’s like trying to catch your breath while swallowing bitter disappointment. 

I got home, jumped in a hot bath and let the emotions wash over me.

Later on, following pep talks from my husband, and my friend, Helen, I felt a more balanced. 

I reminded myself:

– I couldn’t do anything about the icy paths.

– I couldn’t do anything about my sore throat.

– I tried my best.

So I was frustrated? It’s acceptable. Things don’t always go according to plan. 

So I didn’t quite hit my target? They’ll be other races. 

Then I remembered:

– The words of encouragement from my lovely running club mates as we passed each other on the route. 

– I didn’t fall over (ye gods!).

– Despite feeling ropey I didn’t quit. 

– I tried my best.

Then I entered another race.

Yes running is joyful and fun and rewarding and all those beautiful things. 

But it’s also a massive pain in the glutes.

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