Dedication Baby

The five mile run went OK yesterday. When I finished work at three forty five I was suddenly exhausted which is a very convenient feeling when you don’t want to run five miles.

After speaking extensively to Scotty Boy in the form of grunts and shoulder shrugging I donned the old daps and pouted until he dropped me off in the garage at the bottom of town.

‘I’d leave it a minute, babe.’ He said. ‘It’s pissing down.’ A fact I was well aware of.

I found shelter under a hanging basket and waited in vain for the big plops to turn to sheer drizzle. It didn’t.

I do not want to do this.

I do not want to do this.

I have to do this.

I must do this.

After listening to John Travolta bang on about Sandy I decided there was no time like the present and I’d be getting wet regardless. And hey, I had a new jacket.

For about the first mile my boobs, knees and feet all seemed to have different ideas about what they wanted to do. So, when I say nothing was in sync, I’m being deadly serious. In fact, it was only Justin Timberlake that appeared to be adhering to the rules via my shuffle. (See what I did there?)

I can do this.

I will do this.

This is fine.

The route I had picked last night was down past Hoovers, into Troed-y-rhiw and then up the Taff trail back to the leisure centre where Scotty Boy would be waiting to take me home.

It’s a run I’ve completed a few times so passing certain landmarks kept me going.

Now, if I thought the rain was bad when I started, I really hadn’t seen anything yet.

As I got to about the half way mark and, in turn, onto the trail itself. The weather must have had a word with the forecast and decided now was the right time to work as a team.

It pissed down.

And I mean, pissed down. Lollops of water banged on my head so hard I wondered whether anyone would think I was a wimp for just giving up there and the?

‘If you give up now, you’re failing in week three. Week three!’ my damp brain shouted through he throbbing of rain drops.

‘Keep going.’ I actually said out loud. ‘Keep bloody going.’

Belinda Carlisle actually thought this was an apt time to scream; ‘drowning’ into my ears and I thought there was a possibility I might cry.

The DRI FIT, new fandangle running jacket, decided this was also a good moment to let me know it wasn’t water proof.

‘Got ‘ya stupid!’ Nike mocked.

‘You need a life.’ the blackbirds huddled cosily in the shelter of the trees sang.

‘Why the hell are you putting yourself through this?’ my subconscious (not in an Anna Steele way) tutted.

And there it was! The question; why?

Because I actually quite like running, rain or not.

Because my body is looking quite good.

Because my brain is no longer addled.

Because I’ve got loads more energy.

Because I like being outside.

‘I’m going to finish this five miles even if it kills me.

And I did.

When I came round the corner to see Scotty Boy waiting with a towel and a smile, I had another reason to keep putting my trainers on and hitting the pavement.

‘Ah girl.’ He said wrapping me in one of out beach towels. ‘You did good.’

I wasn’t so battered after the five miles. Vaseline and the proper bra has meant I am not cut or sore and I had a comfortable evening. I did have another grit based bath, (I don’t care what Radox say; its blue grit.) and a little bowl of chocolate ice cream to award myself for learning what dedication actually is.

I do have quite an impressive blister on my right foot if I do say so myself but I’ll be sure to cover it with a plaster for the ten miles on Saturday.  

So, last run tonight until Saturday. A nice little three miler which I’ll complete in Ponty Park, after work. I’m quite excited for this run. Three miles has now become my favourite distance to run. Like; something and nothing, I suppose.

For those of you interested, I spoke to my father last night too, he has located his sock drawer, hasn’t blown anything up, the animals are all fine and he had chilli for his tea.

‘If I was you Evans, I’d be careful in the rain.’ Was his words of wisdom for me, oh and, ‘your mothers hidden the scissors from me.’

Mother dearest is safe and well in Zakinthos, I received one text reading; brilliant! So, all is good on that front.

I’m off now to advice a homeless person about the importance of not touching anyone else’s laundry. One of them had my sports bra around his head this morning. Not pleasant for either of us.

Happy Running.