In January, Fatpatch and I didn’t lose any weight on our lockdown sausage and Advocaat diet, and I hate being fat, so with a sparkly new month starting today, we joined the Strava February 100km challenge.
We’ve been watching the old Rocky films, so that’s my inspiration – I’ll put on gross old tracksuits, put my head down, and nail this thing.
Dog’s excited. I mean, he’s really excited.
(*Some of these are combined daily totals, usually when I’ve run with the kids then topped up)
1/2 – 0 km It’s a start* (*it’s really not)
2/2* – 10.18 km
6/2 – 4.10 km
8/2* – 8.69 km
13/2 – HALF-TERM, WHOOOO! Just worked about 50 hours while also home-edding the kids and looking after the OH/house/admin. So, back to this. Erm, 22.97 km done, that’s not good… I could curl up and sleep and just not eat so much, but it’s time to ditch the fat suit – 10.07 km
14/2 – Happy Valentine’s Day! Traditional day of love and snuggles and pounding through southwesterly gales and horizontal rain on sore, aching legs and creaky knees 😘😏🙄 11.02 km
15/2 – 3.21 km
16/2 – 3.30 km (actually a game of night rounders, does that count?)
17/2 – 11.05 km (61.62 km so far, 38.38 km to go)
19/2 – 10 days to go and I realise, I’ve been doing this all wrong (for me). Instead of running for pleasure and and to care for my body, I’ve been running to achieve a target, despite the potential to disrupt my holiday and hurt my shin. This exercise was intended partly to be an escape from stress, but it causes a stress in itself and doesn’t relieve any of the other causes of stress in my life. I’ll run, because I always do – but this? This challenge doesn’t make any sense to me right now.