with Tam when it comes to run reports (or the actual running), e.g. Dancing in the Storm or RR: Endeavour 500km Summer Challenge but I can use them for inspiration.

I never liked the idea of “not winning”. I rarely did TT’s. A Personal Best didn’t count near as much as if I was first across the line.

This has changed since I arrived back in London, after my cycle tour. The bike sits in the loungeroom and I find myself heading out into the cold to run rather than to ride. Given that I hated running such a short time ago, I really can’t explain the change. Different country, different conditions, different attitude – perhaps undertaking a different sport doesn’t seem so odd? Wait.. what am I saying?! Get me my roadie!!!!! 😉

Where was I going with that? Oh yes, PB’s. I know I am slow compared to everyone else that has ever run. I’ve seen suits, laden with briefcases and laptop bags, running towards departing trains faster than I run seriously. The thing is, not racing against anyone means I can happily take pleasure in bettering my own times, regardless of the fact I am not a ‘weedy stick-bandit’, um, I mean.. ‘serious runner’. (The anti-runner in me lives on!).

I wasn’t going to run tonight, evidenced by the fact that I’d just scoffed two egg-custard tarts! (So nice!) Then the guilt kicked in (Sheila) and I decided I should at least try to do something active. I hadn’t done anything since the double Ealing Run Loop (EARL) on Monday. Even Wednesday’s Spin class was too scary to face with my legs as trashed as they were. I’d jogged to the gym last night (Thur) to see if they were still sore. They were.

Tonight I didn’t give myself a tester, I just put the shoes on, put the arm-warmers on and left (Yes, I was wearing other clothes too!). I noticed no immediate pain and for some reason I was going much faster than my usual starting pace. Being a big lad who doesn’t have a background in running I am in constant fear of injury. It doesn’t stop me doing stupid things if I’ve set my mind to them, but it does mean I err on the side of caution most of the time.

Tonight I just went out harder than normal. I blame Tam. Sometimes, she actually makes running sound like.. dare I say it.. fun. 😉

The first part of the run is the dodgiest. The streets are dark and the footpaths over here are shockingly uneven. I trip regularly when walking so I’m super-careful running. Doing a “Superman” and landing face-first on the concrete (ala Croydon!) or hitting a pile of wet leaves, sliding out and rolling an ankle aren’t high on my list of things to do. I slow down going up the rise in front of Northfields tube station, duck around some turning cars and then continue past a smokey pub, actually glad I’m doing this rather than sucking down another pint or five.

Now I’m feeling the fast(er) start – I have to slow down. It’s different to the bike. On the bike I know my body much more accurately. I know I can go all out and probably not hurt myself. Heart rate limits me more so than my legs. Running is the other way around – my legs fail me well before my heart and lungs do. If I ran flat out, I’d probably be on crutches for the next month with all kinds of joint, tendon, ligament, blah, blah, damage. No fun, so I deep breathe to kill my stitch and try to ensure my legs aren’t getting too beat up.

The third quarter is nicer. The road I follow goes past two sides of a square-ish park which means I can see across said park, perhaps a kilometre ahead, making it feel like I’m on the home stretch much earlier than reality dictates.

I think about Dancing in the Storm and how her words paint a lovely picture. A picture that is nothing like what I see and how I feel now!

I think how sick in the head Tam must be to enjoy this “running” thing. I think about how much stick I gave her and others for doing this to themselves. Then I think about what I am doing, laugh out loud at my idiocy and run faster! 😀

I thought about beating my PB once I’d had the fast start but then gave that idea up once I’d got tired and slowed down. I now check my watch and think “perhaps I can beat it by a little bit”. I’m into central Ealing now and I run faster simply because people are around to see me – don’t want to look too slow. There’s lots of footpath traffic on Friday night so I check over my shoulder and run in the bus lane or on the road whenever it’s sensible to do so.

My stitch has left me but my legs are hurting now. I pretend the pedestrians are a home-straight crowd and push myself harder. Diving across the road and through the Green I note my breathing sounds like some kind of steam engine (can steam engines mis-fire? :D). I up the pace further, knowing there is only one more road to go..

BEEP! Stop the clock. 35.44.

“Awesome!”, I think to myself, as I keel over and try desperately to inhale that lovely gas mix we call “air”.

“That’s (inhale) gotta (inhale) be about (inhale) a minute (inhale) under my (inhale) previous best (inhale) time. Sweet!”

I find my way inside, sit down and some time later check my diary for the last PB – 38.30. Hey, better than expected! A 2min 46sec improvement!

Runner? No, not yet, not even close. This could all stop, soon as I get my hands on a road bike and race license. But, at least I can type “run” now, without feeling a strong urge for self-harm.. hang on.. running IS self-harm! hehehehe See? I haven’t changed that much! 😛