First Runs

So, I have finally been out for my first two runs. 

Matthew came with me for the first, a 20 minute slow jog around the roads of Frampton Cotterell.  It actually wasn't as bad as I thought - I managed to keep moving for the full 20 minutes which surprised me - and I didn't walk either!  I was quite impressed with myself until I 'mapped my run' and discovered that it was a mere 1.67 miles!  A half marathon is 13.1 miles so that's almost 8 times as far.  Eeeek!

Anyway, I was still feeling quite pleased with myself after my first running experience in many years and felt that I was ready to brave the roads alone for my second run.  This is when something rather strange happened.  I was going into work last Friday for the day so was intending to drop Noah off at my mum's at 8am.  As the birds were merrily singing away at 5am, Noah decided that 5am was, in fact, morning.  After an hour of lying in bed with a very awake baby, I thought to myself 'What a lovely morning for a run!'.  Since when have I ever thought that any time of day was a lovely time for a run?! 
And that is how I found myself hopping out of bed at 6.30am (on my first day back in work!) for an early morning jog around Frampton!  

Here are the before and after pictures to prove it....


This time I managed 1.93 miles.  Well, you've got to start somewhere!

Why a half marathon and why now?!

I'm quite lazy when it comes to physical exercise.  I've never really challenged myself physically before because I always find a reason not to.  Getting hot and sweaty is not something I enjoy.  It's always too hot, too cold, too expensive, too early, too late...really just too much effort, to exercise.  

But things have changed massively in my life in the last 6 months. 

In December I gave birth to my scrummy (and very cute) little boy, Noah.  This has spurred me on in two ways.  Firstly, I now have even more of a flabby tummy than I did before and it has to go.  The only way that is going to happen is through exercise.  Secondly, I figured that if I can give birth and manage to survive the first few weeks with a newborn then I must be able to do a half marathon.

The other massive change is that my Dad passed away in April after being diagnosed with a brain tumour at the end of February.  For anyone who knew my Dad, you will know that he loved sport, especially cycling, running and walking, and was always a very active person.  In fact, he was due to run the Bath Half Marathon this year but was too ill to be able to do so.  This has obviously also encouraged me to start doing some exercise.  Firstly, I think my Dad would have laughed if I had told him I was going to run a half marathon but I also know that he would be very proud if I ever completed one!  Secondly, I want to do something for one of the charities that give support to individuals and their families who are diagnosed with a brain tumour.  And finally because it's made me realise that you just have to do things rather than talk about doing them! 

So that's my motivation.  Now to start running....

Background - Why I don't do sport.

Let's get one thing clear to start with.  I do not run.  By that, I don't mean that it's just not something I do often, I mean that I have done everything I can to avoid running pretty much since the age of 11.  At primary school, I quite enjoyed running.  I even managed to win the sports day sprint a few times with the help of my long legs.  Once I started secondary school though, it all changed.  I think it probably had something to do with the fact that I was completely turned off any form of sport by totally uninspiring P.E. teachers who made us run around the netball court in the middle of winter with a ridiculously short skirt on whilst they stood there shouting at us wrapped up in their warm tracksuits and ski jackets.  They also had a clear preference for girls who were what they perceived to be 'good at sport' and those of us who may not have been the most sporty but were willing to try hard were not ever given the chance.  I was pleased to see in the news a few weeks ago an article that pretty much sums up my feeling of P.E. in secondary schools:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-17873519

There aren't many memorable experiences for me from P.E. in secondary school, but those I do have are certainly not positive.  Here is a summary:

1) Cross country runs - the P.E. lesson everyone dreaded, running around the school fields.  Finishing in the top 10 meant an invitation to cross country running club at lunchtime!  I avoided these on more than one occasion by 'falling over' somewhere near the start and being unable to run!

2) Hockey lessons where you were repeatedly and purposefully hit around the ankles by girls who thought that was fair play.  I resorted to always opting for a defence position on the best team so I could stand near the goal and chat to my friends.

3) Sports Day.  I entered the long jump in Year 7 and after that never entered again.  My tutor was a P.E. teacher at the time and after stating in Year 8 that everyone must take part in at least one event, I told her that I wasn't very good at P.E. and would rather not enter. I guess I was expecting some kind of encouragement but she told me that was fine and so it continued.  My sports days were spent eating ice lollies, chatting with friends and watching the boys compete!

At university I once decided to take up running and think I managed to go out twice before deciding that it really wasn't for me after all.  As for other sport, I have had phases of quite enjoying badminton and I do like swimming when I can be bothered with the whole getting wet thing.  I went through a phase of 'playing' squash with my now husband but I probably wasn't the best pupil because at the first sign of getting hot and sweaty I pretty much refused to play anymore! 

Don't get me wrong, I like to be outdoors and love a good walk in the countryside but anything more than that is just not for me.  Especially running.