I’ve been remiss. I’ve not blogged for a couple of weeks. Perhaps three…? In fact it might actually be four. Eeek. Looking at my timeline you could be right in thinking that I’m turning into a virtual recluse. No major twitter banter / ribaldry / witty repartee going on. Nothing to see here folks. Move along please. Which to be frank is unlike me – given the fact that I am a usually a verbose creature.
I’ve got myself bogged down in a few things. Primarily work orientated stuff, which has played out into long hours, bad decisions made in haste and an inbox that just won’t quit. Ultimately this means that I’m taking things far too seriously, and not taking any time out to have some fun. To add to this my wisdom teeth have decided that it’s time to have a good old wriggle around and generally inflict some malaise. Plus I’m moving house in a few weeks, and recently decided that giving up smoking was a good idea.
I did a 10k run on Sunday. My second major outing since #vlm. I’ve trained a lot over the last couple of months. Exercise has been the one thing keeping me on the right side of the sanity line. I’ve started losing a weight again and some bits of me are beginning to look toned too. Yay. However what with the annual Glastonbury shenanigans and a few work orientated soirees I haven’t trained much over the last couple of weeks. Ergo I was a bit nervous on Sunday. Rightly so. It would be naive to NOT be nervous before the off. After all, you never know what is going to get thrown at you (literally, emotionally and mentally) whilst you are trying to put one foot in front of the other in a running stylee do you?
The run was an unmitigated disaster. Hot – early 20s by half nine in the morning – and no breeze. As I ran I started to get worried about how I’d deal with the heat. I don’t cool down quickly you see. As I ran I got hotter and hotter, and then I started to get stressed about how hot I was getting. And then worried about how I was going to cool down…
Put those three things – stressed / hot / worried – together and my heart rate goes up. Astronomically. During #vlm my heart rate was a pretty constant 152bpm. According to my personal trainer (the lovely JC) that whilst my heart rate is naturally high, it’s ok because my recovery rate is excellent for my age. On Sunday I peaked at about 182bpm. It was at that point (about 7km for the record) that my breakfast reappeared. Nice.
Running is supposed to be fun. It’s something I do because I enjoy it. Sunday was NOT enjoyable. However the only person to blame for the lack of enjoyment is me. I got my knickers in a knot. Mentally, not literally.
I’ve had 48 hours to beat myself up mentally about what happened on Sunday. But I’ve stopped that now. I think that it takes moments like that to force you to yank on the brake and stop – JUST STOP – for a second. The light bulb moment this morning (whilst listening to Chris Evans – top of my *shouldn’t but would* list btw) is that I’ve lost sight of the fact that I’m in charge. No one else is accountable for what goes on – and more importantly how it affects me – other than me.
So a decision has been made; yesterday is done, lessons have been learnt and a line has been drawn underneath it. Today can be everything that I want it to be; bigger, better, bolder and generally kinder to me… It simply depends on what I make of it.