Now, many people may scoff at 5K and say that they, seasoned exercisers and runners extraordinaires, could run that distance twice before breakfast and not break into a sweat. Maybe so. I, however, was not made for running. This body can dance, move smoothly to the beat of an aerobics teacher's drum and has even attempted a few martial arts classes (well, the softened down versions they offer at the gym, anyway). What this body does not take kindly to is running. There seems something disjointed and awkward about the way that I react when I start running; my thighs feel heavy, my neck slumps forward, and my breathing becomes panicked and laboured.
This last point has much to do, no doubt, with the fact that I've been terribly lazy recently and haven't been to the gym, and so am extremely unfit. I do walk everyday, and have of course lost almost 2 stone over the past two years, but..still...
Anyway, this was not my first 5k - I've done the race for life twice before, both times before the big 'weight loss', so I was cautiously optimistic that today, even without the benefit of training and despite the fact that I CANNOT RUN, would be more enjoyable than the last two.
And, drum roll please...it was! I loved it! I completed the course in 38 minutes; no record for the masses, but a record for me, and actually ran at least a third of the course, with just small intervals of walking interspersed. The atmosphere, as ever, was amazing. I was standing behind a lady at the start who had pinned a note to her back, as many participants do. Whereas most people write down who they are running for; those who have passed away, those who are still fighting cancer, this lady had written proudly in huge black letters " I'm here to celebrate - I survived the big C four years ago and I'm still here." Gulp - that nearly had me in floods of tears before I'd even started.
However the emotional part for me was the end; I found enough energy to sprint the whole last 500 metres, which is a great achievement as just the mention of that figure brings back horrible memories of PE lessons at school. I pelted down that last strait and took my medal as if I'd won the olympics - after all, I (and my family) know why and for whom I was running today, and the thought of them pushed me right through to the line.
Shame I've now gone and ruined it all with a chinese takeaway and a homemade sponge cake. Ah whatever, I've deserved it!!
