Falling off the Wagon, and climbing back on

On Tuesday as I prepared to go to bed I realised two things.

As far as I could tell my knee was all better.

This is the precise moment my exercise regime falls apart and I go back to eating myself out of all physical fitness.

Last week my weight hit 78kg at one point. (back to 80 currently).

My metabolism is back on track making me eat two lunches per day just about. Unfortunately this puts me in a state whereby I start finding exercise a pain in the arse when all I want to do is eat, continuously, until 3 months later when I suddenly find my metabolism has slowed down so much I struggle to finish a happy meal.

That too and I didn't do a weekly post last week, because again I just couldn't be bothered. It is very hard to arrest yourself when you just don't notice that you subconsciously let all routine go.

Indeed, perhaps it is because I was going gangbusters, injury (even minor) was inevitable and the learning curve was going to taper off steeply. Getting up to 20km runs into week 3 of a training program is climbing everest in a half step.

Furthermore the benefit to running 800m is questionable. It has occured to me that whilst running 20km is physically taxing, particularly on my joints, it is not particularly mentally taxing. In fact I have concluded that counterintuitively I have taken to running longer and longer distances in my old age because they are much easier than running middle distance.

If you run 6 km then you have to worry about doing it in less than half an hour (5 min per k) to even look at yourself in the mirror. 3km you want to crack 14 min. But 10km maybe an hour is decent, and if you do it in an hour and 5 hey who's to say where you went wrong, head-wind, drink break, whatever.

I find running long distance I have generally stopped thinking about pace all together. It is alright to slow down to a shuffle-shimmy to tackle a headwind or an uphill because all you are worrying about is finishing the distance and anything that isn't a walk doesn't count as a failure.

Indeed, I now just plug in the ipod and simply switch off my brain, it only has to become active to say 'half way' and 'almost home' for those little pushes. Such that when I hit a wall on a long distance run my mind either wins straight away or gives up straight away.

On a middle distance run though (and this is what I need for the 800m) you start caring about pace and mentally you have a constant job. Only when I was really fit, and by that I appreciate now just how fucking fit I was, could I go into a trance and think about the chorus to Red Hot Chilli Peppers 'give it away now' ad infinutum, because my feet were turning over about as fast.

Right now at my current fitness, my mind has to say constantly:

You are a fucking pussy, come on you cunt, you fucking cunt, you are the biggest fucking cunt you are going to make it to that tree you fucking vagina, oh you made it to the tree congratu-fucking-lations you can't stop there you little faggot, you little bitch come on you are going to fuck this little corner like you fuck your mamma in your dreams, you run up there or I'll skull fuck you you fucking anal-cream-pie faced fucking fucktard, you fucking gimp, If you stop now I'll tattoo a vagina on your arse and post you to a mexican prison horhe, you cunt puncher fucking keep it up, COME ON go fucking faster, my fucking grandma runs faster than you, you taco munching bitch...

Etc. today's run was not yet about pace though, instead I kept reminding myself about posture.

I ran 4km today and it was just about doing it. This is what must be done when you fall of the wagon, namely... something. Something, anything must be done. And so I went through the ritual of getting changed and then making myself run, just to fucking run.

I vow hereby to run at least 3km per day for the next 20days, (next 19 including today) and that doesn't mean averaging it, or doing a 20km run and resting for 6 days. I may still do a long distance run, depending on how I am feeling, but this is simply aboot exercising consistently.

I will continue on my core exercises, and hey I may even gun for 100 consecutive pushups too if I'm going to hand John's ass to him in December. But the rest of the numbers can fuck themselves.