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A frost-bitten mediocre runner writes...
Here in my part of downunder we are in the grips of a very wet, very cold, extremely miserable winter. The kind of weather Andy revels in, but which I, as a mere plodder find, if not detestable, then at the very least extremely de-motivating. In fact, the thought of running in these conditions is so mentally disturbing that I have been known to do washing and ironing rather than pull on the running shorts.
However, late this bitingly cold, wheeze-inducing evening, whilst returning home from a nice warm coffee shop cappuccino with my wife and a few friends, the old dread returned - that feeling of utter helplessness when you know that despite the colossal and overwhelming mountain of logic that normally keeps one indoors with a good slug of Jamesons (or equiv), I was quite inexplicably going to go out running. It's like a malevolent force takes control of my body and sends me into the streets. The fact that it has also been 7 days since my last run probably had a lot to do with it, but the notion still strikes me as absurd.
Anyway, it wasn't pretty, in fact far from it, but the endorphin buzz afterwards brought me here and rather foolishly has me penning (keyboarding?) these few words. My running log simply says "very late, very cold, very tired, but at least I did it". I'm not sure if that is in any way motivating, although I suspect Andy is drooling even now at the prospect of an icy winter's run again.
Personally, I think society is to blame. If not society, then Andy. Though which of the two is the softer target I'll leave for you to decide.
MLC Man.
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