There’s been a bit of banter since the last blog! Which I guess means it has provoked thought. It all got me thinking about how I started running in the first place…
I suppose we all started running for a reason. (I promise the BIG Nicky interview is coming soon)
I smoked my last cigarette on 13th January 2007, ten years and counting, I’m very proud of that. I was a champion smoker, a real Marlboro king. Bear in mind I didn’t have the happiness of my wonderful life now, so a sneaky drag in the night, first thing in the morning, on the toilet, in fact ANYWHERE, ANYTIME, gave me a bizarre pleasure.
Anyway, I knew I had to stop. My life was not great. As has been well documented, my Sister was very, very ill and I was feeling increasingly guilty about the healthy body I seemed to have despite my appalling lifestyle.
So the fags had to go.
And I didn’t want Tony Bleedin’ Blair getting the credit for it when his ban came into force. I also didn’t want it to be attached to my 40th birthday which was rapidly approaching. I felt that would have been too much of a cliché.
I’d tried everything, patches, gum etc, but ultimately I knew I needed to WANT to stop.
And suddenly I did just that.
Then what to do with all the time that used to be occupied with the fags?
Go for a run.
Dear, oh dear, oh dear……. how had I become SO unfit. I’m not joking, I thought I was going to die.
I’ve recorded every single step of this running adventure on Fetch and simply wrote next to this first attempt “Nearly F****ng Died!”
And so the battle commenced. I think my weakness was my strength – once I start doing something I won’t leave it alone (stop giggling at the back). It became personal. Running vs Kevin.
It was tough to start with, I used to go out after dark to make sure nobody saw me. Yet after a while I suddenly noticed I could keep going for 3 miles. Then it became an hour. then I did a 10k.
My first 10k. Absolutely heaving down, I’d travelled to Combe St Nicholas where I thought nobody would know me. Because it was cold and wet I wore a heavy cotton sweatshirt and jogging bottoms. I was overweight then anyway, I must have doubled my weight with the amount of water these garments carried. But, oh my, what joy at having that medal put around my neck.
And so it spiralled.
I absolutely love running and the journey it has taken me on.
My trusty Fetch log informs me that I’m up to 15843 miles (including that first one, which may not have been a complete mile but felt like 10!) and I can honestly say I cant think of any I regret.
Some have been painful – the last 10 in my first marathon were appalling. Some have been bleak – Milton Keynes Marathon 2012 (shudders and shivers at the memory). Some have been less than picturesque – Reading Half, why? But so so so many have just been pure bliss.
The best miles though, are ALWAYS the ones ran wife my beautiful, inspirational wife. Just magical.
Anyway, keep on keeping on people……..