About a year ago I decided to dust off my worn out jogging shoes to make another attempt at improving my fitness. I am not genetically predisposed for athleticism and every attempt I made to improve my fitness to a point where I don’t have to sound like I am being strangled every time I run for the 6 ‘o clock train has been a monumental fail. When I decided to make an umpteenth attempt at jogging, I wasn’t expecting much, I was prepared to do what I usually do, jog for two weeks and give up when I realize how shitty I actually am. But this time it was different, the stars were in alignment I guess.
I started out small, and it’s sorta embarrassing when I think about it, for the first month, I only ran a block and I struggled to run that block. I would run for about five minutes and stop just to catch my breath. I didn’t give up though, and I’d be lying if I said I persevered. The truth is, I was unemployed and had a lot of time on my hands, I had no other choice but to keep my regimen, but I’m glad though ’cause running a block turned into running 15 KM effortlessly.
The thing about long distance running, and my fellow runners can’t vouch for me, there’s an addictive element to it. Once you get the hang of it; get your breathing right, find mental tricks to block out the minor cramps during the final two kilometers, you can’t get enough of it. You can’t wait to wake up and do it all over again, and when you don’t do it for an elongated period, you start having withdrawals which is what happening with me right now. I haven’t had a jog in since I started work and I feel like something’s missing. I’m started to be more grouchy than I usually am, especially considering that I had planned to run the Soweto Marathon this November. I have to get my act together and start running again, but not before I buy proper running shoes, my old ones are giving me calluses.