The Pink Shorts

This wasn’t the post I was planning to share this Saturday. I crashed and burned last week, a combination of doing too much, saying yes to everything, and not saying no loud enough. Which annoys me in myself, because I’ve always been such an advocate of NO being a complete sentence, and yet I find it almost impossible to say myself?

I’m going through a funny transition at the moment. I feel this instinctively, and I’m desperate to let it happen to see where it takes me, but each time I take a step further forward I feel a pull back, like there is only so much rope that “allows” me to go a certain distance with it before BOING!… like a bungee rope is invisibly tethered between my heart and my backbone, pulling me backwards.

The reason I know I’m going through this shift is because (and you might need to sit down for this) I’ve missed quite a few runs recently.

Last week I bought myself some new bright pink running shorts just to prove that I can wear colour (not sure why I do this, I mean, the evidence is clear, I wear black all the time?). But I like these shorts, I really do, plus my husband says they look funky which is always nice.  

THE SHORTS.

So last Saturday night I laid them out ready for my Sunday long run. I was excited to wear them, or I thought I was at least. But I get up on Sunday, my new shorts waiting for their new owner, excited about their first trip out, lying there in all their fluorescent glory.

But I ignore them… in actual fact I can’t look at them and avoid all eye contact (which isn’t that easy because they are, you know, neon) and busy myself with the so many more important things to do like… putting the washing away (what?).

When I do venture downstairs my husband notices me still in my dressing gown, he’s surprised, he’s all “What time are you going for your run?”. He doesn’t ask it accusingly, there is zero pressure in his tone, but, you see Jamie knows, no matter what happens, whatever I’ve eaten or drunk the night before, whatever emotional stuff/work stuff/family stuff I’ve got going on, I always go for a run. Not for one second does it even occur to him that I wouldn’t be going.

“Mmmm, I don’t know,” I reply, “I’m not really feeling it.”

“You’ll feel better once you’ve been” he says rather dismissively, not really grasping the seriousness of the situation. I shuffle back upstairs to my waiting pink shorts, I know he’s right, but…

I go through the motions of putting my running kit on. It’s not even second nature, it’s so much more than that by now… like brushing my hair, or putting my make up on. Putting my running kit on is a ritual, part of my DNA. I take the label off my new shorts, and step into them hoping for a gush of energy or inspiration, but nope, not even a flutter of excitement. Black top over my head, ankle socks (just to show my age)… still nothing, I don’t feel the usual surge of excitement. Please don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t happen every time I put my running kit on, but usually, on a weekend, as I’ve spoken about before, putting my running kit on is similar to putting on my armour, it’s where I get my strength from, dressing like a warrior, it makes me feel powerful, strong, independent. I’d even downloaded my  usual favourite playlist, I was ready for action in every way except… I wasn’t.

Then something happened that to my memory has never happened before- I took my running kit back off again. I shocked myself, but what surprised me even more was that I didn’t spend the next hour beating myself up about not going for a run.

I just didn’t want to go.

And yes, in the past I’ve fallen out of love with running, lost my mojo, forced myself to go for runs and hated every second of them. I’ve written about running turning into a frenemy, but this was different- there wasn’t that powerful turmoil and entanglement that can sometimes accompany our relationship, this time there was just… indifference. The absence of effort was all on me. I mean, those shorts were trying their best to make an effort, but me? nothing but an emotional detachment, and so I completely avoided the usual inner conflict by quickly shutting the pink shorts away.

As a child I point blank refused to wear bright clothes, and I’m still the same as an adult now that I’m “allowed” to wear whatever I like (yes mum, if you’re reading this, I still haven’t got over being forced to wear that bright yellow dress). But surely it wasn’t about the pink shorts?!

I spent the day just being, and it was a lovely day. I didn’t do anything groundbreaking, and the day was all the better for it. I obviously needed to listen to my body and rest but isn’t that something we find incredibly hard to do? No matter how many times we tell other people it’s the right thing to do?

On reflection (ok ok, and a few wise words from my husband) I have spent the last two years training hard for three marathons, running long runs every weekend, come rain or shine, and whilst I’d had a loose goal of a half marathon in September, this goal now isn’t going to happen. I invariably have a running goal, a race to strive towards, but just like that it vanished, and maybe I felt momentarily untethered… a bit adrift and disconnected, looking over the horizon to the next planned spring half seems like such a way off.

Since coming back from Vegas and the amazing high, I was unable to ride those waves anymore, the strength to stay afloat requires a significant amount of emotional resilience and I felt completely overwhelmed by so many things in my life that were out of my control.

This September marks the 10 year anniversary of my running club, RunVerity. It feels like a huge milestone- one that seems to be enabling me, at long last, to breathe a sigh of relief and I’m finally able to allow myself to celebrate the success; as well as acknowledge the challenges, but also to plan for the future.

As I write this I realise that perhaps I too had fallen into the trap of thinking that every run had to serve a purpose, that it had to be perfect and perfectly aligned with a goal. This shift feels, if I can put it into words, like I’ve taken some pressure off myself, allowed myself to have a day off running, the world didn’t end, it was ok. The pink shorts can wait until tomorrow.