Often over-rated and seldom to visit the Naughty Corner, I am giving myself a firm dose of logic today.
It is the eve of my first fun run.
To say I am shitting myself is putting it mildly.
So I thought I would try to logic my way through this one.
1. What if I can’t do it?
Oh, please. You do this distance every day on the treadmill and follow it up with the rower or the bike. You can do it.
2. What if I get flies on me?
You probably will. But you can douse your shirt in that stuff that keeps the little buggers away and is meant to have no smell but really smells like death. Problem not solved, but definitely decreased. Besides, if you have flies on you then so does everyone else.
3. What if I come last?
Shut up. Last year you were learning how to walk. You’re doing it, aren’t you? Fuck it.
4. What if people laugh at me?
See the answer the question 3.
5. What if people notice me and think I’m crap?
If people notice you they’ll probably just think, “Good on her!”. I mean, really. Are you going to be doing it and judging everyone you pass? No. That’s right. So you’ll be fine. And I know you think differently but you’re good at being decent to other people. So don’t worry.
6. What if people make jokes about my belly making me look like Santa.
Those people are dicks, don’t listen. Besides they should have seen you 20 odd kilograms ago. Fuck that.
7. What if I hurt myself?
What if you don’t? Besides there will be first aid tents, they would have made sure the course was flat and safe. And you don’t fall down now. Your ankle is fixed.
8. What if I can’t run?
Then you’ll walk. Plus, see the answer to question 3.
Ultimately, you will be fine and you will finish it and you will piss it in. Honestly. And it is less about the time and the speed and more about getting this first one out of the way. Then you’ve done one. You’ve done one! Besides, you’ve raised money for Variety (if people want to donate they can do it here), and you know what? There probably won’t be many other people there who have learnt to walk in the last 12 months. That’s you. This time last year, this was you:
This is you now.
You run. You walk. You do stupid heavy weights. You row, you bike, you run up and down stairs. You’ve been training hard for the last 3 months. You have an army of people who are backing you all the way. You’ll be wearing Bessie, you’ll look as silly as everyone else in a beard and hat.
And you’ll do it.