Once more unto the.....

Despite an attempt to soundtrack my life with a musical score by Paul Simon (Mainly Graceland, obvs, but also Rhythm of the Saints), the bubbling over of positivity and motivation is fails to last more than a few minutes, and I'm finding it really hard to actually begin running again...

I've had the odd run since the winter, but nothing that resembles any kind of regular commitment. When I'm into a running schedule, there's nothing easier then getting up and outside, in the mornings, when I'm home from work, lazy sundays, whenever. When I haven't been running, the excuses are plentiful: my knee, my self-conciousness, my hair, I'll somehow manage to convince myself that a 5 km run can be equated by half an hour of cleaning my kitchen. I've drawn up a training scheme, the first part of which begins officially in May but I'd like to be running 2-3 times a week before I start that. However, at the moment I feel massively fatigued. I've had a couple of busy weeks but I still feel that I'm more tired than I should be - especially as the springtime is usually when I feel at my very best.

I'm possibly being a little hard on myself as I was in loco parentis of two (sometimes three) dogs last week and consequently walked over 25+ km in the space of a week, which is not to be sniffed at. However, walking is one thing (and one thing that seems to result in inordinate tiredness....), actually running is another, and my mind appears to be interpreting for my body, and making it sound like a teenager: "Guuuuuuuuh.... I'm TOO TIRED!". It does literally feel like my legs are full of concrete whenever I entertain the notion of popping out. And even when that's not the case, all those other excuses pop up. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself how good I will feel afterwards, or promise myself ice cream, or how certain I am of how ineffably easier it will be to continue than it was to start. Basically, I need something to force me to get out and pound the path around Roath Lake. Happily, there is brightness on today's rainy horizon: Wednesday is my day to walk Spud the collie, who needs to lead, loves running and won't take the piss out of me when I stopped jogging halfway round the route. So this evening, come rain come shine, I will be, in all my bright pink-faced glory, panting my way with a stony expression, past the swans, geese, ducks and pedalos to a new, bright future, the main difference of which is that it contains me running more frequently. Rome wasn't built in a day, people.