During my brief stint as an invalid/ occupant of the living room floor/ person who other people fall over because you are lying in the kitchen doorway hoping that someone… anyone… will make you a cup of Yorkshire tea (with three sugars just in case you’re brewing up) I decided to catch up on some reading. If you read my last blog (if you didn’t I hope you have a really good excuse) you will know that I am a little bit addicted to this whole running thing… but I couldn’t run. My family, friends, casual acquaintances and even the postman had tired of hearing my pitiful wailing and general bemoaning of the ‘not running’ condition… In desperation, my husband bought a book that had the word ‘running’ in the title, threw it at me then shepherded the kids away from their increasingly volatile Mother. For once, he chose well. He bought me a book called ‘The non-runners marathon trainer.’
After I had recovered from the fact that, despite my spandex rashes and fanny pack, he didn’t consider me to be a REAL runner, I started to read. The book is epic, a revelation, truly sensational. The authors of the book talk about how to prepare mentally for running long distances- that is to say, how to stop yourself from becoming mental when you run long distances. You know me, I love nothing more than flexing my mental muscles (only because they don’t hurt as much as my real muscles) so when I read about visualising success, mantras and focussing on developing a positive mental attitude, I got so excited that I actually sat up- yes dear readers, me with the broken back… I actually sat up! Such is the miraculous ability of this book!
And so, with a sore back and a brain full of positive mantra’s to test, I ran 5 miles tonight. I had several prepared, they are listed in order of preference…
1) I am a marathon runner
2) I was born to run
3) I am strong
4) I am healthy
5) This feels great
6) I love running
… if asked to describe my attitude to life, no-one, not even my Mum would describe me as a ‘positive, can-do’ kind of girl. Whilst the peppy angel on my shoulder was telling me how wonderful I was, am and always will be, the devil on my other shoulder (the one who makes me eat 10 Flumps in a row and/or 6 KitKats) started talking… and his voice was really loud…
1) Angel: I am a marathon runner. Devil: “No you’re not, you’re not even a half marathon runner, Yesterday you couldn’t even get off the floor to go to the toilet! Geek.” (My Devil is VERY insulting.)
2) Angel: I was born to run. Devil: “To the toilet when you’ve drunk too much Coke/ Wine/ Beer/ Gin… You have a driving license for a reason!”
3) Angel: I am strong. Devil: “Your back was much stronger when it stayed on the sofa all night every night. The sofa misses you!”
4) Angel: I am healthy. Devil: “Is it healthy to spend an entire weekend lying on the living room floor because you can’t move? And a bank holiday weekend at that.. when all of your friends are going to the beer festival. Is that healthy? Is it? IS IT?”
5) Angel: This feels great. Devil: “If you compare it to being hit by a bus.”
6) Angel: I love running. Devil: “LIAR!”
Damn that Devil on my shoulder! When I actually nearly got hit by a bus at mile 3 (I was concentrating on trying to remember my positive mantras and didn’t realise I’d come to a road) I decided to just plug in the earphones and obliterate all thought with a good dose of the Foo Fighters.
One good thing though-I no longer have backache- or leg ache for that matter, because I have no feeling in the lower right hand side of my body at all. Hey, maybe running isn’t that bad after all. Repeat after me, “I love running, I love running, I love running…”
...I love running...I love running! Hey, it's works!!!
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