June 25th 2018

Today, after wiping away the dust and cobwebs, I put my running shoes back on. I’m not entirely sure why I chose the hottest day of the year so far to restart my running career, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The heat, coupled with my lack of activity for the last six weeks, made it one of those runs where you suffer the entire way but, upon your return, you’re glad that you did it. Although this year that’s basically been every run for me.

It’s not been an illness or injury that has kept me from running, but apathy. For the longest concurrent time since I began semi-seriously running two and a bit years ago, I just had no desire to do so anymore.

I’m still not entirely sure if I have regained that desire, but this morning I made a split-second decision to pack my running kit in my work bag, on the off chance that I went out for a lunchtime-jaunt.

And then I didn’t think about it again until at lunchtime when I made another split-second decision to go on said jaunt.

And then, as previously mentioned, I suffered for eight-ish kilometres. I don’t actually know how far we went because, perhaps proving my inactivity, I couldn’t find my running watch this morning (I did find it this evening, however).

It wasn’t about running fast, or running far, it was about running. And that I did. I stopped halfway whilst the rest of the group did a big scary loop of a big scary hill, but, for the most part, I was running.

And it felt bad. But it later felt good.

Until tomorrow, I might not leave it so long next time.


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