Another idiosyncratic communication from Aussie Graham H-M today. Trying to read one of his emails is like running uphill for half the morning. Despite not being English, or even British, he has some interesting opinions, though finding them in one of his emails is like searching for your glass eye in a swimming pool full of the marbles he appears to have lost along the way. One observation was that I’ve sentenced myself to some Sisyphus-like existence. (He was the dude doomed to spend his life pushing the huge rock up the hill, only to see it roll all the way down again.) An inability to hang on to my fitness gains means a constant battle against my nature was, I believe, the general drift. Guilty, m’Lud.
But I did at least go running this evening, and I suspect I wouldn’t have behaved so irrationally without the earlier correspondence.
The new pedestrianised Leeds might be bad news for the driver, but the freedom hasn’t been lost, just redistributed. Runners get plenty of benefit. I’d no route planned, but it didn’t matter. I was able to wander where I wanted through the empty streets. It reminded me what British towns and cities used to be like on Sundays.
I really am unfit. Yep, here I go. With my running routine so disrupted, and the shocking temptations placed before a man in a strange city with (in effect) someone else’s credit card, it’s not a surprise. The killer blow is hotel breakfasts. As I’ve mentioned before, I can resist anything except temptation. It’s got so bad that I’ve deliberately booked a place that doesn’t include breakfast in the price. It’s the only answer.
I struggled to do my 3.5 miles, but I did it. Or to put it another way, it wasn’t a huge struggle to do the distance, but the pace was about 1½ minutes a mile slower than the mark I regard as a reasonable level. It’s to be expected. It will be the same next time, and the time after that. But as long as I manage to stitch a routine together, I know it will become easier from then on. I’ve got to do it. It’s all about momentum. As the runs get slightly easier, and a few encouraging pounds melt away, I’m encouraged to eat better. The running will make the world a better place, and even my job might become more interesting and less terrifying again, giving me yet more appetite to run. This is the snowball phenomenon again, as often expounded here.
So perhaps it isn’t a rock I’m pushing up that mountain, but a bloody great snowball. Whatever it is, I do know is that it’s not so bad when you have friends to help. So cheers Graham.***
*** Note: But please don’t take that as an invitation to write to me ever again.
