Big-Teeth Critters and Little-Stingy Critters
The illogical panic. It's a strange and powerful thing which usually creeps up on you then kicks your feet out from under you with a snigger.
For the last few months my training has been trundling away just dandy (why has it been going okay, it never goes okay, am I trying hard enough?!). I had taken to splitting a run in two during a day and doing, for instance, two 1 hour runs rather than one 2 hour run etc (I'd Googled it...maybe I shouldn't have done that, maybe it's all hocus!). And thus I hadn't run any further than 14 or so miles in one go for...well....for quite a few weeks actually.
Now, as with every year, my figure was definitely a little curvier throughout December and the beginning of this month (and that's fine, it's Christmas and I like a drink or 6). However, as I stood in front of the mirror the other day - almost at the end of January - I noted my hips were definitely holding onto a few gins. Now, I don't mind this as long as I can still career down a mountain side and lowp the odd river on some stupid length of run. But what if I can't?! Shock horror, here comes the panic...
What if I've actually been neglecting my training for the last four months?! What if I've wasted four months training time?! And so with this panic in my mind, I planned out a long run to do this morning...arguing with myself the whole time.
With no work until this afternoon, I could start at the oh so late time of 6.30am (very almost sociable hours, get me). As I settled into the run I began thinking about the upcoming Jungle race - now just a ticky over 4 months away - and the list of things I still need to do occupied my mind for a little while. I began to wonder about the worrying lack of detail so far on how to deal with the big-teeth critters and the little-stingy critters out there. "Watch where you put your hands" seems to be the most advice I've received as of yet. With nothing but my own thoughts to occupy me I soon decided the chances were I'd be coming back missing a limb. And it probably wouldn't even be from anything impressive. Some little buzzy fly would bite me and it would get infected and I'd have no choice but to take the arm off with a pocket knife and then...oh god. It can't be my right arm. I'm 24, that's far too late to learn to write with my left hand. What if it's a leg?! I mean, there are miraculous people who do things like climb Everest with one leg...but that would be tricky.
By the time I'd considered all the options and decided my best aim would be to come back with all four limbs still attached, half of the 21 mile run was done and I was still trundling along just fine. The route was scenic and took in Glenisla, Balintore and Kingoldrum so I came back with a smile on my face.
Of course, the very sensible and likely very exasperated wise old angel on my shoulder was not surprised when I got back from the run feeling fine. And the fretting, panicking, slightly psychotic devil was silenced once more.
Balance has been restored... for perhaps a couple of weeks. Next week I'll start my training in the lab at Abertay and see if they can turn me into Ironman. I'm thinking this is unlikely.
For now, over and out, the (still) four-limbed runner with the (still) curvy hips.
For the last few months my training has been trundling away just dandy (why has it been going okay, it never goes okay, am I trying hard enough?!). I had taken to splitting a run in two during a day and doing, for instance, two 1 hour runs rather than one 2 hour run etc (I'd Googled it...maybe I shouldn't have done that, maybe it's all hocus!). And thus I hadn't run any further than 14 or so miles in one go for...well....for quite a few weeks actually.
Now, as with every year, my figure was definitely a little curvier throughout December and the beginning of this month (and that's fine, it's Christmas and I like a drink or 6). However, as I stood in front of the mirror the other day - almost at the end of January - I noted my hips were definitely holding onto a few gins. Now, I don't mind this as long as I can still career down a mountain side and lowp the odd river on some stupid length of run. But what if I can't?! Shock horror, here comes the panic...
What if I've actually been neglecting my training for the last four months?! What if I've wasted four months training time?! And so with this panic in my mind, I planned out a long run to do this morning...arguing with myself the whole time.
With no work until this afternoon, I could start at the oh so late time of 6.30am (very almost sociable hours, get me). As I settled into the run I began thinking about the upcoming Jungle race - now just a ticky over 4 months away - and the list of things I still need to do occupied my mind for a little while. I began to wonder about the worrying lack of detail so far on how to deal with the big-teeth critters and the little-stingy critters out there. "Watch where you put your hands" seems to be the most advice I've received as of yet. With nothing but my own thoughts to occupy me I soon decided the chances were I'd be coming back missing a limb. And it probably wouldn't even be from anything impressive. Some little buzzy fly would bite me and it would get infected and I'd have no choice but to take the arm off with a pocket knife and then...oh god. It can't be my right arm. I'm 24, that's far too late to learn to write with my left hand. What if it's a leg?! I mean, there are miraculous people who do things like climb Everest with one leg...but that would be tricky.
By the time I'd considered all the options and decided my best aim would be to come back with all four limbs still attached, half of the 21 mile run was done and I was still trundling along just fine. The route was scenic and took in Glenisla, Balintore and Kingoldrum so I came back with a smile on my face.
Of course, the very sensible and likely very exasperated wise old angel on my shoulder was not surprised when I got back from the run feeling fine. And the fretting, panicking, slightly psychotic devil was silenced once more.
Balance has been restored... for perhaps a couple of weeks. Next week I'll start my training in the lab at Abertay and see if they can turn me into Ironman. I'm thinking this is unlikely.
For now, over and out, the (still) four-limbed runner with the (still) curvy hips.
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