I am of course not talking about my newly found fondness of hugging trees for inner peace, I am referring to putting my trainers on and going for a run. Now, I am the most unmotivated person you can imagine when it comes to exercise. I detest gyms. I suck at HIIT. I tangle myself in a knot with yoga. Water is too cold for a swim and generally too wet really. I don’t like group exercise, because I think Nelson is waiting behind that mirror wall, ready to point and ‘haha’ at every wrong move I make. Which is every single one. I’m a total anti-sports person.
Unfortunately I also love my food. Very, very much. Salad is for rabbits. Vegetables are meant to decorate a piece of meat (apologies my vegetarian and vegan friends I am a carnivore through and through). But when you get a bit older, your body gets a lot less forgiving when you shove in the calories. Something had to give. And it could not possibly be the cake.
So I was trying to find something I would be able to stick with. Enjoying would be the wrong word. Given my gymbunnophobia and general erratic work pattern, a gym or classes where out of the window at once. There are 24 hour gyms of course but still, no thanks. Well, I ended up running. Sort of. When I first started, I was blissfully unaware that prolonged high pressure impact on your foot is not such a good thing. After about six weeks, my foot had ballooned up considerably and hurt like hell. I did ignore it for another couple of weeks then decided maybe it was a good idea to get it checked out. So it was. I had broken two metatarsals. This enforced a bit of a hiatus on the whole running thing which was prolonged by general lack of motivation afterwards, but then I finally got into the spirit again. To a degree at least.
I do admire people who go out every day no matter what and do their 10k. I’m sure they are not entirely human. I still get put of by a bit of drizzle. The frequency I go is a little haphazard too. And while I aim to do a steady four to five kilometres each time, some days I really can’t be bothered. Or I am super motivated and add another two or even three. ~Which does not happen very often and I am generally totally pooped afterwards and wonder what possessed me to be so stupid.
But, surprisingly, I am starting to enjoy it a little bit. It makes me feel good. I listen to random TED talks while being out and as we have some small woodlands behind the house it is quite pleasant to run with squirrels crossing your path and birds singing in the trees. And it keeps the flab at bay. Pass the cake please. I’ll run it off later.