I'm a work in progress... trying to get fit and get healthy, by eating right and exercising. I have lost weight, but the biggest bonus is the energy I have now, and how I have a focus in my life. I like to blog, I'm inherently lazy, and I get paid to be fit- it's in my job description. I live in Darwin, Australia, and I'm a waddler. I run because I enjoy it. I like to be a bit faster than I was 12 months ago, but I'm not a racer. I would like to run 250K through the Gobi desert before I turn 50, but after only 100K in 1 months (as opposed to 2 days!), I realise my feet will probably snap in the process. *sigh* Facebook: hinuk shines email: firstname.lastname@example.org wordpress: hinukshines.wordpress.com (and no, it's not my name - it's two random words) Peace out.
Although I would’ve liked to do the 10, I am painfully aware that I haven’t run for months, and have a 12.7 this Sunday - plus I feel like I’m coming down with something (cold or dust related I’m sure, but the ear is wonky and the nose is running), so I chose the 5K.
How bloody hard did it have to be?
I felt like my lungs were burning out of my chest before I’d gone 500m, and people actually overtook me in the first k! WTF??? Every shitty meal I’ve had for the past month and a half felt like it was riding around my waist, my ankles, my shoulders, and I thought seriously that it was far FAR harder than it needed to be. The fact that I can eat 5K for breakfast meant I wasn’t going to let myself stop, but it seemed so slow - and I was so bitterly disappointed at the end of it I just wanted to lie down in traffic and die.
Drama queen much? Then the lush of my life pointed out that we’d actually got out and done it, which was the entire objective - and always has been - of joining the running club. That I was going to be crap after so long off and such shit food, and that it’s actually okay. That it would get better faster than it took me to get better the first time round. And I felt like a dork for coming down on myself for something so silly.
And I realised that as bad as I am now, it’s circumstances that are driving this, not me. Not my lifestyle choices. Not my ‘lack of drive’ or laziness. That I can do better than what I have been, but I’m still going to be shit for a while yet. And I realise that I can accept this, and work with it.
He’s a very special person, that lush of my life. I’m lucky, and grateful :)