Today, I gave up. I was halfway thru my third interval (of five), halfway thru my whole session, and I just stopped. I’d had enough. It was too much. I had nothing in the tank – physically I suppose, to some extent – but also metaphorically. I was knackered, disheartened and crying.
So what brought me to this point?
Well, everything has been going pretty well lately. I’ve been quite enjoying my runs, bashing the sessions out and ticking them off the wall calendar each day. Run done? Tick. Done? Tick. Done? Tick tick tick. Three weeks in and I’d completed every session. But today, my little fiends were back.
I’d been late to bed. Slept badly. Overslept. Missed a bus. Spilt coffee on myself. Made it to the gym but didn’t feel good. There were no treadmills. I looked at the time ticking away; I was going to be late for work already, how much longer could I wait? Eventually one freed up and I jumped on. It wouldn’t work. You’ve just been working for that guy, you shit! Work!! I jumped on another one as it freed up. I started running.
Then the little voice started…
This is hard.
My legs hurt.
I’m tired.
What am I doing?
What are you doing?
You can’t run a marathon.
You can’t run at all.
This is ridiculous.
Give up.
Give up.
Give up.
I tried to quiet the voices. I tried to tell myself that everything would be ok. That it wasn’t true. That if was my demons. Eventually, in my minds eye, I was screaming at myself. Be quiet! Shut up! For fuck’s sake shut up!!
In my head I pictured myself like some manic cartoon character, like Calvin, fists clenched, eyes bulging, body leaning forward in a stiff rage. And all the while, in my ear:
Give up
Give up
Give up.
I felt broken as I hit the pause button. What am I doing? I can’t do this. I can’t.
I wish I could tell you that I bucked up and got on with it. Completed my session. Triumphed over the demons. But this time, alas, the demons won. I headed to the showers where I had a little cry.
I haven’t thrown in the towel completely, don’t worry. I’m not done. I texted my coach who said “never apologise. It’s ok. If you weren’t scared I’d think there was something wrong with you.” He agreed that my plan to hit the sack early tonight and come back fighting tomorrow was a good one.
So here I am. It’s 8:30pm and I’m about to go to bed. To come back stronger. And as for the demons – well, the battle may be done but there’s still a war to be won. And after I’ve had a full nights sleep (and a good meal) I don’t much fancy their chances.
Onwards and upwards, hey? Night night. X
*pic is of me pre-session. Already pissed off, not yet broken.
me and the moo 