Tuesday afternoon. 4.13km. My plan to make it five kilometres today did not withstand the overwhelming desire I developed to just stop running. My Nike Run app tells me I started out fast then slowed to a grandma crawling. But, in the wise words of the iconic 2007 Miley Cyrus, “everybody has those days”.
Why the self-torture? Well, non-existent interlocutor, thank you for asking. I’m training for a half marathon. Both my parents compete in the Rotorua Iron Man, a border-line psychopathic level of fitness. This may help explain their Christmas gift this year: entry into the Rotorua Half – for my whole family.
I seized the challenge earlier this summer, but then immediately stopped seizing it because it was hot, way too hot to run and like… I’d probably get sunburnt and stuff. So, I did what university students are infamous for, something of a personal forte of mine, I procrastinated.
I now have nine weeks to train, and all the training programs I’ve found online were at least twelve weeks long. Guess it is truly time to get running again. I’ve got to get my puffing red face from my standard 5km fitness level to 21km before the time is up or be the Most Unfit in My Family – beaten out by my brother, my brother’s girlfriend, my little sis, and both my crazy ass fit parents.
In the interest of full disclosure, this is not my first venture into running. The first (and only) half marathon I’ve run was in my first year of university. I ran it with my flatmate, who pulled out halfway through due to overhydration – something neither of us knew existed. We camped out at the med tent for the morning, and I may have sneaked a medal for her from one of the lovely people at the finishers line. But my running fell to the wayside over my Uni Exchange, along with my fitness motivation.
Now, I’m moving into a new flat, into a technically-post-grad stage of my degree (is honours post-grad? am I ‘post’ something yet?), and into everything else that comes along with this strange mock adult stage in life. But when I’m fit, everything else falls into place. I find myself with more time, not less. I just have to get there.
Thursday morning. 5.km – on the dot. I made it to the mark that I couldn’t make just two days before. And, surprisingly, I felt good the whole way. Running is a great way to explore this new area of Auckland. The only problem is, with these unfamiliar streets, I end up running down dead ends, circling back, then surrendering it all to Google Map. I still have a long way to go. But sticking with the sage words of the great philosopher of our generation, “it’s all about the climb”.