I’ve started doing a bit of running. Ah there I go again, making something small and stupid-looking sound cool and interesting.
It’s actually too strong a word to call what I do ‘Running’. It’s much more of a ‘Flopping and gasping from Point A to Point B in the Most Ungainly Way Possible'.
It’s awful, in many ways, but still I find that I like it and, like one of those old Country and Western singers might mumble as they raise the microphone to their bearded lips, “I wanna tell you why.”
(cue slide guitar)
I’m 48 and I’ve never run in my life, apart from the odd burst to catch a bus or to escape autograph hunters. That’s why I think it’s worth writing a line-or-two about the accelerated shuffle which I can now achieve. You may well be just like me.
I believed I could never run. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with me – nothing that would stop me running anyway. It’s just that, anytime I tried to run anywhere, I would get fifty metres up the road quite fast and then would come to a destroyed halt, breathless and stunned. No I couldn’t run. Not me.
But I needed to be doing something. (That’s an Irish sentence-construction, I meant it). I have a family history of heart trouble that would make a cardiologist blush, plus I’m knocking-on a bit, plus the considerable amount of walking I do never seems to quicken my pulse or knock the wind out me. Maybe I was doing it wrong but walking, for me, was too damn easy and if I was to do enough of it to make it work, then that was taking bloody hours.
So… I needed to try running.
Here’s how I made it work for me.
First, I did it late at night, under cover of darkness, when fewer people would see me. That’s important to me, I don’t like looking like a gobshite. Second, I looked up some beginner-running schedules on the internet. They’re good because you only start out by running for something like thirty seconds and then taking a break – even I could manage that. Thirdly I followed an excellent piece of advice from Eamon Coughlan, one of Ireland’s greatest runners, which I heard on the radio. He said, “Run for as long as you can, as slow as you can.”
With these three things in mind, I set off.
I ran for thirty seconds, I timed it on my phone, and then I stopped. I didn’t need to stop at thirty seconds but that’s what the internet programme said, so that’s what I did. I walked for the requisite time and then ran again – as slow as I could.
I didn’t get very far. My heart was working and my breath was coming hard and fast. It was awful really.
The next night, I ran for a little longer.
And the next night.
And the next.
Six months on, it’s still not pretty – matter of fact, it is decidedly unpretty but who cares? I keep running a bit longer every time. Sometimes I don’t manage it but most times I do. There have been weeks where I haven’t run but I try to go out at least three times a week. I even venture out in daylight now but I hate meeting people and I still find it embarrassing.
These days I run for about 20 minutes then walk a little bit then run again. The odd thing is that I don’t really have to stop running after twenty minutes – my legs don’t hurt, I can still breathe and my heart is not failing on me. It’s my mind. My mind keeps telling me that I cannot run, it shouts it at me as I am trudging along and I have to ignore it. I humour it by only doing a little bit more every time and that seems to be working.
But the mind is a powerful enemy. Every time I start to run/jog/whatever it is, I know I will have to stop after thirty seconds. I know it. It’s just that I don’t. Not these days. These days I keep going, despite what my mind tells me.
And it’s hard. Don’t let me tell you it’s not hard. But I needed something hard to do.
Benefits? I think it’s mostly self-esteem, at this stage. I’m learning how to run, something I thought I could never do. I don’t think I’ve reached the speed or distance where major health benefits would accrue but I’m getting there and exercise is exercise. I don’t know much about Endorphin rushes, all I know is when I’m done and showered and watered, I feel at peace. I know that sounds all self-aware and bullshitty but it’s true. It’s a nice feeling, after the run/jog/whatever it is.
The reason for writing this is obvious. If I can do it, anyone can do it. Start slow, hide from the world, build up slow.
It’s good.
(I did it again, didn’t I? Made it sound all cool and powerful, like a Rocky montage or something. When I run, it’s a horrible horrible spectacle, an embarrassment, an outrage against sporting types everywhere… but I’m running, me, running… can you believe it?)
(I can’t. )