Full disclosure: I am not typically the girl who would take up any sport, let alone something as intensive as running.
I'm not really into - fitness. I like books, and nail varnish, and you know - FOOD. And wine. Exercise did not fit into my lifestyle.
So how did I come to be here, blogging about running? Well, I started running just over a year ago, in April 2013, when my then-housemate asked me if I wanted to go for a run with her in the park we lived nearby in London. I'd just been lamenting that I needed to do some form of exercise, and I couldn't think of a good enough on-the-spot reason not to go out with her, and so I found myself in a grey H&M hoodie, a David Bowie t-shirt, some leggings and my battered Converse (I know), 'running' around Brockwell Park.
After about a minute, I couldn't breathe. My lungs were useless. I was red in the face and probably everywhere else. I'd never sweated so much in my life. I told my housemate, about a third of the way round the circuit, that I hated her, in that particular moment, and just to make sure she knew it, I MEANT IT. Why was she subjecting me to such TORTURE?? Why did people do this for fun?!
After I'd survived that torturous 2.8k (if that), and recovered most of my sensibilities, I decided that, at 27 years old, I should be able to run the circumference of a park without feeling like I was going to die (I really felt like I might just die).
So I kept at it, slowly. I kept running. I stopped running, sometimes. I did a lot of walking, and a lot of huffing and puffing and sulking. I ignored advice from friends and family members who ran, and then I slowly started taking it on board. I experienced a lot of pleasure, happy surprise, determination that I could - and would - manage another minute or two. I told myself if I could just get to the end of this song, the end of this street, to the next bench, I would let myself stop and walk for a bit. Or maybe I'd keep going. I did 1k, 2k, 3k. The first time I ran round Brockwell Park without stopping, with the same housemate a few weeks or months later, I've never felt so excited and ecstatic. It kept me going, and it felt good. I did 5k. I did 7k. And so on.
One year later, and thanks to some friends, I signed up for my first 10k - We Own The Night in Victoria Park, London. This evening as part of training for WOTN, for the first time I ever, I did a run that went into double digits - 10.98k from Kings Cross to Brixton.
I had considered, a year ago when I did that first hilariously bad run, starting a blog about my running journey from Day One, to see how I progressed and if I got better and if so, how. I never did and now I wish I had. And so this evening it occurred to me that maybe achieving 10k was as good a milestone as any to start documenting my running progress, to have something to look back on, and maybe talk to some other people who like running around.
So, this is exactly what you'll find here. I'm going to blog every run I do, how far, how it felt, what I listened to, and everything in between.
Wish me luck!