The RunWay: Definitely Not An Early Bird

So this week, I have mostly been feeling guilty. Guilty for eating rubbish (what happened to my good intentions?). Guilty for not sorting out my life admin (hoover, still broken, lightbulbs, still broken). Guilty for not wanting to run in the freezing cold (does anyone?).

There was me hoping, after my first triumphant outing, that I would be so hooked on adrenalin, that I would be running all over the shop. But once I'd slept through the alarm the very next morning, my memory of how that small personal victory had felt started to fade at a speed I could only hope to match in the running stakes.

I put it off. I went through a whole sunny weekend without popping out for even a jog (OK, I was busy, but still). I hit Monday morning and couldn't face it. Then I fell over spectacularly on a patch of black ice - legs in the air, flat on my back, hat half way down the pavement -while I was merely walking and I imagined (no, probably wished) I'd put myself out of the game for good. Thankfully, I hadn't.

Because this is where my special RunWay code of accountability kicked in. I knew I had to run, in order to have something to say. I didn't have to want to do it, because I needed to do it. Plus I wanted to test out how I fared between evening runs and morning ones. So I did two back-to-back to test it out. Turns out I am still very much not a morning person.

While for my evening outing, I was OK. It was a bit more intervalled than the first time, but I managed to make it home in good spirits. But in the morning, I was positively defeated. Dragging myself up 45 minutes before I would normally rise to throw myself into the icy air was a very rude awakening. My lungs siezed up, my knee hurt more, I felt a deep sense of negativity. I jogged part of the way, the other half, I walked and wheezed, cursing whenever I could catch my breath. I tried to cheer myself internally by repeating Anne Hathaway in Devil Wears Prada saying 'You're not that désolé at all.' But still little tears ran down my bitchy running face, perhaps from the cold, but also from my irritation with myself.

This was not how it was supposed to be. How would I ever be able to run properly if I couldn't do this? I felt guilty for leaving so long between my first run and now squishing my second and third into the space 10 hours. I felt aware of every niggling pain. I just wanted to be in bed.

When I got back, dragging myself along the road like an unwieldy snail, I actually got back into bed. Morning running was supposed to be a positive explosion of sunrises and empty streets. Instead I just had a moany face, big bags and achy joints. I think perhaps myself and Rosy Fingered Dawn might not be friends. I'll come back to her once we hit Spring.

In the meantime, to cheer me on technologically, I've got a new iPhone 6. On it are a bunch of new Health Kit-compatible apps to push me through those regular evening runs which I am definitely going to do. They promise to improve my endurance and, one can only hope, my positive mental attitude too. This week I'll test a few out and let you know how I get on. Which means I might need to add 'buy a running armband' to my life admin to-do list...