Or I guess they do at least once: ‘One foot in front of another.’
I wanted to go for a long run, I did. But when I got out I didn’t. This never happens to me, I am the person who doesn’t want to go until I am out there and then I am fine. I can count the amount of times I have turned round in under a mile in 18 years of running on just a hand or two or three. But it was cold and windy and grey and blahhhhhh.
3 miles I thought, I will get to the three mile mark, turn round and I will have done six, that will be fine. It might just be one of those days, I might be going down with a cold, I might subconsciously be protecting myself from the pterodactyl attack that will occur just outside town. But it was still cold and grey and bllllaaaahhhh.
I made it to a mile, and a mile and a half. It is downhill from 1.5 to 2 miles, so that was fine.
So that you can suffer the blahs with me I took some photos of my view, as I plodded along.
Out of town now, the path is a bit more rural. About 3 miles. At this point, I realised that I was probably just not feeling runny (ie not sick or having a pterodactyl premonition), so I thought I would go and have a look at mile 4 to see if I fancied it.
This is one of the perma-puddles on the A281. You have to time your passage so as not to get soaked.
This isn’t strictly mile 4, but about 4.25. I had chirped up a fair bit by now and decided to press on a bit to see if the chirp increased with the miles.
This is the view from mile 7.5. I had developed chirp to the point where I was doing backing-singer arm movements to B52’s Funplex as I ran (the mimicking waves to both sides ones). No idea how passing drivers felt, but I was quite happy. So overall I did 16 miles (well 15.97, turns out that my GPS refuses to acknowledge walking up and down indoors as movement, even though it thought it had a signal, perhaps it has a cheating sensor).
So the moral of this post is: it is always worth putting one foot in front of another just in case your blahs turn to chirps.