I hadn’t run for over three months. First I was trying to give my injuries a proper chance to heal and then I got hit by a long-lasting virus, which took a good five weeks to shake. I missed it, then I reckoned I wasn’t missing it that much but in reality I was stressed at work and stressed in general. I’ve had a lot more time for armchair activism and shaking my angry wee fist at the world. Don’t get me wrong, the world has certainly deserved some fist shaking and more, but that aside when I reflect back on the past few months I realise that running is definitely not just my hobby but my therapy. No doubt about it, it’s a stress reliever.
I’ve started back now, gently. Firstly I added little sections of jogging into my dog walks – down a hill, between lampposts and that sort of thing. I’ve now gone out for two actual runs. Short runs, 2 and 2.33 miles respectively. It felt awful and it also felt fantastic.
I have a race schedule and a coach for next year; and my biggest challenge to date – 24 hours of running at Glenmore. How I feel right now is fat, unfit, slow, self conscious but also full of hope and anticipation, because I am running again and I love it. I’m getting my happy place back.