September 4th 2017

Today I ran for the first time in a month. It was our monthly 5km race at work, and the last time I even attempted running was at last month’s race, where I ended up having a sit down halfway through.

Although that race was directly after a particularly boozy weekend, my poor performance knocked my confidence and motivation, and I didn’t go out again for the rest of the month. To be honest, I’ve not even felt particularly bad about having a month off. Until today, that is…

I felt very unfit. I felt like I hadn’t been for a run in four weeks. To be honest, halfway throughI kind of wanted to mirror last month’s performance and have another sit down, but instead I just slowed right down, and jogged the remaining couple kilometres.

Look… you can see the exact point where I decided “Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope.”

The monthly 5km race is part of a competition/series. We do 6x5km races, and the person with (effectively) the lowest average finishing position wins. Because my first four races were actually pretty good, I went into today’s race knowing that if I won today, I’d win overall. (Assuming the person behind me in the leaderboard finished third at best.)

I didn’t win today. And to rub it in, the person behind me finished third. Meaning if I won today, I’d’ve won overall, and claimed the £75 voucher.

Fuck.

To be fair, based on my performance and level of commitment over the last six weeks, I didn’t deserve to win.

I’ve just lost interest in it. I was doing quite well before then, averaging 40km a week. Now, I’m averaging a grand total of zero kilometres per week.

Shambles.

Until tomorrow, maybe I’ll get back into it…

Jacn