When the hard work pays off...

In running and even in life ....

Photo by lucas Favre on Unsplash

The wind buffeted against my jacket, the hood flying behind me like a cape, super powers yet to be enabled. My quads and calfs cursed the undulation, my lungs bad-mouthed my mind for the pace it expected them to handle. I tried to relax the grip from my fingers, the tension in my shoulders. Relax. I focused on each step.

One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four.

My eyes averted to the puddles whose waters were rippling, to the daffodils who were at risk of being beheaded. The wet roads slicked with mud, the lambs in the field watched on.

One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four.

Why had I chosen to wake up at 6:15am to run in these gales when I could be curled up in bed, Jasper at my feet, Sean by my side? I could be sat on the sofa, steaming cup of tea in hand, relaxing before a busy day of meetings. Instead, I’d chosen challenge over comfort. Hard over easy. This ingrained habit of mine too deep to forego. A small part of me burned with regret. We all have those runs. The ones that make you question why you run at all.

I forced my mind back to a day a couple of weeks ago where I had completed a challenging trail half marathon. It was hilly, cold and windy, all of the things I’ve become accustomed to from my weekly runs in the Yorkshire Dales. Nothing however could dampen my enjoyment of being out in the countryside with a bunch of like-minded individuals tackling distances from 13 miles to 50. I was there for fun, the kind of type 2 fun which hurts but leaves you feeling fulfilled. The kilometres passed me by until I arrived at the finish, mud to my knees, sweat dripping down my back, the taste of salt on my lips. The notion of needing to find the loo swiftly removed as I was pulled aside and told I was third female in the half marathon distance. A certificate was handed to me as a photo was snapped of my tired bewildered face. I didn't run to compete, I surely didn’t expect to get a place. I run for me and that day I’d made myself proud.

This is why I run. This is why I wake up at the break of dawn and lace up my shoes. This is why I hold myself accountable with a running plan. This is what it feels like when the hard work and the commitment pays off. You don’t get better at something by doing nothing or by making excuses. So when I’m out on those runs where I’m questioning my life decisions, I remind myself of my past achievements and of my future aspirations.

A week after my trail run success, my husband and I went on a trip to the south coast of England. For me this meant a break from the hills of the Dales and the chance to run on the flat promenade of Hove seafront. Would all that hill running pay off? Saturday came with perfect conditions for a Park Run PB. One thing I’ve worked on this year is my mental resilience. Too often on a PB attempt I’ve talked myself out of it. My mind allowing my body to give in to the pain. But, reader, a PB 5km is meant to be hard. It’s short, sharp, painful. Damn uncomfortable really. Could I suck it up?

I told myself that there was no better time than today. I put myself in the zone, visualising myself crossing the finish line. When I hit 11 minutes at the half way point, I knew it was mine to lose. I pushed on. The last 500 metres I pushed on some more. I finished strong. Did I have more in the tank? Probably. But I’d just hit a 22:05 5km, shaving 40 seconds from a previous PB. Sean and Jasper were waiting for me, with Sean, having timed me himself, knowing I’d hit that time before I had a chance to tell him. “I’m coming for your time” I joked, that feeling of elation running high for the rest of the day.

I remember when I wanted a sub-25 minute 5km. Then a sub-24. Then a sub-23. Now I’m chasing that sub-22 and eventually a sub-21. Each previous goal felt unreachable, some far away place my little legs would never be able to reach. It’s on those days where I’m hating every step, where my mind and body are trying every trick in the book to convince me to stop, that I push through. Hitting PB’s and placing in a race are achievements, and nothing beats that overwhelming feeling of pride in yourself.

I’m not the quickest runner or the most gifted of runners, and it certainly doesn’t come naturally to me. And showing up each day, with nobody else around to spur you on is hard. Nobody sees the early morning runs in the dark or the rain or the snow. Nobody sees the strength training and the yoga that helps keep my body strong and mobile. Nobody sees the effort of hitting a daily protein target. And whilst it seems like everyone is running right now, with people breaking records and taking on crazy challenges, it can be easy for the comparison to creep in. I love that it means there are others to seek inspiration from but the hardest part is blocking out all of the noise and staying in your own lane.

Be your own runner. Be your own person. Do it for yourself.

I do it to prove that I can do hard things. I do it to learn my weak points, to learn where I need to improve or to dig deeper. I do it for those times when I can’t run due to illness or injury. I do it to become more resilient. I do it because the benefits filter into other areas of my life. I do it for meditation. I do it to be healthy. I do it to teach myself dedication and commitment. I do it to see the fruits of my labour and to turn it into fuel. I do it to show that I can even when I don’t want to. And most of all, I do it for the younger me who never thought she would be able to do it.

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On a separate note this week, I feel great for taking a break away from writing on here. I not only took a break from the writing but from Substack full stop along with a break from Instagram. I was feeling too overwhelmed and I think in those moments, it’s good to take a step back. I’m feeling refreshed now and whilst I don’t know yet what my posting schedule will look like going forward, I will be here and I hope you will continue to be here too 💜✨