Just walk it...

<Conversations I have with myself no.375>

Last week, I ran the 10k in the Simply Health Great Women's Run in Glasgow. When I say 'ran', I exaggerate – it was more of a shuffle, really. But still – one foot in front of the other, at a pace faster than meandering through John Lewis.

Now, I've done 10k (and a wee bit more) before, and it's always a challenge, on account of not being a lover of running. But for some reason, this particular run did not go well at all.

I started off positively. Totally fine, along with 3499 other women, in every neon colour, all shapes, all abilities and all in it for myriad reasons. Jogging along, Florence and the Machine warbling in my lugs, powering me on. New, fancy trainers on my feet. The man on Strava kicking in every 500m, telling me what pace I was doing, in his deadpan voice. 

And that was it. Suddenly, at around 4k, Strava Man was telling me that I was getting slower. And slower. Which is normal for me, but still. Rather than spur me on to do better next split, I started to feel pretty demoralised.

That's when my inner chimp, Sasha, kicked in. 'Jeezo Diver, What the feck are you doing here?? You can't DO this. Just give in. Walk it. Waaaaalk it. See? SHE's walking. Her over there. You should too. You're not a runner. Give up now. You'll still get to the end. Like, eventually. Haha!' Yada yada.

She's a total cow, my chimp. 

So for the next 4k, I wrestled with her, Sasha. Told her to just shut up, out loud too. Some fellow runnist did look at me a bit funny and ask if I was alright. And the truth was, I wasn't – I was on the verge of tears. All from some running, that mattered to nobody but me!

Thing is, I'm an innately upbeat person usually. I was quite thrown by falling prey to this uninvited level of self-generated negativity, particularly when I know intrinsically (and from experience) that I can do it. Not only that, I was doing something that had little to no impact on anyone but me, thus no-one to let down or disappoint if I didn't complete it, but myself. Why wasn't I managing to drag my mind out from the doldrums?

While walk/shuffling, I started mentally drafting the text that I'd be sending my friends, at the end: 'Oh, it was awful. So slow! Hated every step...' and realised that I very much did not want to be doing that, especially not to my sons. I had so hoped to be able to say just the opposite. I remembered that I am in control of how I decide to feel – each and every point of every single day. So, I tried pretending to enjoy myself. Plastered a smile on my face for the official camera, and shuffled on for a couple hundred metres. (Sunglasses are a Godsend, aren't they??) What a JOY it is that I am running, free, gazelle-like, through the urban streets of Glasgow... That shut Sasha up, so it did. Popped her back into her box. Think the welcome cold mist shower at circa 7.5k mark also helped a bit.

After (well after!) an hour, I made it to the finish line, and instead of the anticipated euphoria, I felt terrible. My time was pretty dismal but at least I'd finished it. Finished! I celebrated with my fellow runnist buddy (who ran a PB) by Having A Pint in a local hostelry.

Hours later and back at home, I showed my two boys my medal. I told them that I very nearly stopped in the middle of it and gave up. My 5 year old replied; 'Yeah, but you didn't quit did you, Mummy? Because quitting would just be silly.'

Quite right, wee man, quite right.

So I've signed up again for next year. And me and Sasha are gonna have words...

#chimpparadox #mindset #goals #keepgoing #notreallyanutter #running