Before January of this year, I had never ran before. Sure, I'd gone on short jogs around the block... but nothing more than that. I'd never ran properly. When I was in school I hated sport, I was always the girl stood on the netball courts, totally unfocused, biting my nails and fiddling with my hair. I came last in athletic races, hated cross country and bunked off PE lessons because I couldn't be bothered and wanted to save myself the embarrassment of failing. If my teenage self had been told that at 24 I would run a 10km, I would have laughed in my own face!!
But something inside of me this year made me want to start running. I'm not sure what it was, I just had this urge. Running is such a universal sport, so many people get into it. After all, it's free! Watching so many people I know achieve 5kms, 10kms, half marathons and even marathons, inspired me to give running a go. If all these people could do it, surely I could too?
First things first, I joined the gym. Living in a large, modern block of flats has it's perks as our gym happens to be just downstairs, so "I can't be bothered to get myself to the gym" is never a valid excuse. I started off by running for 5-10 minutes at a time on the treadmill. It hurt. I would leave the gym red in the face and panting, embarrassed that such short bursts of exercise would leave me so broken. But somehow, amidst the pain and embarrassment of it all, I felt somewhat liberated. It felt good! I was actually using my body for once and began to feel weirdly stronger for it. I continued to run a couple of days a week, plodding along on the treadmill, slowly building up my pace and time, going from 2kms to 3kms and then to a mighty 4km! My first 5km on the treadmill took me a whole 45 minutes and I nearly collapsed afterwards but I remember feeling so proud of myself. I still couldn't believe that I had achieved a whole 5km... I mean, that's a 'race for life'!!
