Yup I went missing pretty much straight after starting this blog. That’s mostly because I didn’t have anything running related to write, given that a couple of days later my colleague stood on my pinky toe and managed somehow to break it (still hurts months later!). No running for me for six weeks.
After this, I caught the flu and came down with bronchitis – happens every winter. Another two weeks off.
By this time I was feeling pretty damned sorry for myself. The last thing I felt like doing was running. I wanted to curl up on the sofa with a glass of wine and a good book, not go running. Because I’d forgotten what it makes you feel like.
Some people say they don’t understand runner’s high. Don’t get it at all, or have to run for hours to benefit from it. It hits me about 20 minutes into a run, and on a good day it makes me feel like I could run forever and ever and ever. It’s my Red Bull. It gives me wings.
What reminded me?
The invention of the Blerch by the Oatmeal. Or rather, the putting down on paper of a real entity (I believe in the Blerch!) and his account of why he runs. Which is so terrifyingly similar to why I run that it makes me think that all runners might just secretly have greedy, lazy dysfunctional fat kids inside them just screaming to get out. Or maybe that’s just me and the Oatmeal, although given the resonance the Blerch has had I think the former scenario is looking likely.
So off I go again, running, from fat to Florence, for Strathcarron yes, but also to beat the Blerch.