Sunday, May 27, 2012

Run, sort of.

My lungs feel like they are scarred. From some sort of fire. I've just run around 2km. Well...walked/run. Up and down some little hills though. So...hard...for me.


Legs are shaking, arms are weak. Head is floaty and face is scarlet.


Afterwards, had a fabulous bath. Have decided I will "bathe" from here on. As opposed to "have a bath", I shall "bathe". With scented oils, and candles, and music and a book and lovely soaps and gels and savour the moment. Gods knows how many I have left, so by all the gods I'll enjoy as many minutes as I can.


This running thing has come from an article I read in an online blog thingy. The lady who wrote it could have been me. Example:

"As a child, I was a reasonable sprinter and was usually able to score myself a coloured ribbon of some kind in the 100 metre or 200 metre races at school athletics carnivals, but anything further than those distances had me gasping for breath, clutching at my chest and begging to borrow an asthma inhaler off a nearby student "


and again (apart from the cigarette/beer):


"“I can’t run,” I would tell people, probably with a cigarette dangling from my mouth and a beer in my hand, “I’m not actually physically able to, my lungs pack it in after about a minute.” As though I was built differently to every other human being on the planet, a flawed version of the factory model that had somehow, accidentally, been released onto the market with all the rest of the functioning people."


Anyway, she goes on in the article to explain that humans were born to run. And that being human, that meant her. So she starts with a 2km run. A while later she's just run an 8km fun run.


The visualisation that helped her - Cliff Young doing the shuffle in his gumboots. Which is EXACTLY what I was visualising as I stumbled my way around my 2km circuit.


I used to do 50 sit ups and 50 push ups no problem. In the past I have run for 40 mins straight and felt fine. I can get back to at least that.

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