Until now I tried to make a point of not writing about running, for two reasons: If you’re not into running, you’re probably bored by it and have most likely stopped reading this post already. And if you are a runner yourself, there’s not much of value for you in this text, left aside maybe a laugh and a half.
After years (many of them) of doing exactly nothing at all in terms of sports, I was pleasantly surprised to seemingly be kind of fit when I took up running recently. I started with 4km and stretched it day by day to 10km within two weeks. Doing so, I made pretty much every mistake I possibly could.
I never warmed up or stretched, never took a day off, sometimes I ran straight after lunch or after gulping down a pint of water. I enjoyed the fact that I was able to keep going and paid no attention to the worsening pain in my feet. After two weeks my ankles were heavily swollen and so sore that I could barely walk, let alone run.
Thanks to reckless ambition I had brutally overwrought muscles, bones and sinews. The whole locomotor system (what a great word) was not used to the constant heavy pressure and presented me with the bill. To make things worse the gear I had treated myself to arrived upon the forced break to sit in it’s shoebox untouched.
Ten days of limping and being annoyed later, the feet are rested enough and with the intention to take the advice I got* seriously, the new shoes are now being fed mile for mile of solid (often wet) scottish ground. Being patient and building up the routine slowly is hard, but the better alternative. But why run anyway?
The plan is to make it through the Harris Half Marathon next year in July. Before that, and here’s why there is a post on running now, I’ll dress up as Santa Clause and take part in the Inverness Santa Run two weeks on Sunday. The money is going to a charity providing micro-loans and health advice for people and communities. If you can spare a pound please click here to sponsor my run, I’ll thank you kindly.