November 29th 2016

Today I’m in a reasonable amount of pain because I went running in the wrong shoes. I left my running shoes at home, but still really wanted to run today, so I wore an old pair of trainers that were just chilling in my car. This, I later found out, was a mistake. These shoes are full of holes, are very difficult to tie tight (insofar as the knot in the laces is so tight, it’s impossible to undo, so I just slip them on) and are probably too small for me anyway.

Ideal running shoes, then.

At one point, we ran on leaves that were still covered in the morning’s frost, and I slipped and stumbled a bit.

The hole in the front meant that at one point my toe was sticking out. And it felt like -5 degrees out, so I was fairly sure my toe was going to fall off. I was running with my thumbs tucked into my palms, it was that brisk out there.

The onset of cold weather has demotivated my running plans, and made it easy for me to find excuses. But today, I actually wanted to go out, so I didn’t let the incorrect footwear stop me.

It’s weird that as I get fitter and fitter, things have started to hurt more. My feet, my knees. My back and shoulders have hurt a lot recently as well, but I think that’s mainly because of the unideal ergonomics of my chair at work, and the whole hunched in front of a screen all day thing.

Of course that puts more weight behind the reasoning that I should run every day. But, if you remember, it’s fucking cold out there.

After a mile and a half you don’t feel the cold anymore because your heart rate increases and so does your body temperature. But it’s that first mile that hurts. And it’s the thought of that first mile that puts you off going out the next day.

And I wake up in the morning, look outside. “Looks cold,” I say. “Can’t be arsed to run.” And then my lunchtime-self rues the decision that my morning self made to not bring any running gear in.

There is a gym round the corner from work that is perhaps an option, because I assume that it won’t be -5 in there as well, but my track record with gyms is not great. In my first year of University I paid £155 for a 10-month gym membership – I went twice. And one of those was the mandatory introductory session.

The alternative solution here is to, of course, man the fuck up.

Until tomorrow, man the fuck up.



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