“Be quiet and effective, actions speak louder than words and results speak for themselves. Be a runner, don’t talk about being one.”
This is a quote from one of the most motivating (yet realistic) books I’ve ever handed over money for: Run Fat Bitch Run by Ruth Field. I bought it a few years back, because at the time my husband had (rather annoyingly) gone from ‘never ran a day in his life’ to completing the Dublin Marathon in a very impressive time as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
Right, I thought, if he can do that I can TOTALLY do that. It turned out I couldn’t. Physically, I could run. Psychologically, I could not. I bought fancy trainers, I bought the best sweat-trapping gear from Nike, I downloaded the Couch To 5k plan – I did all the stuff. But I found that when I ran for more than a few minutes, my brain became my worst enemy.
“You’re not fit enough for this… What if you have a weird run and everyone laughs? How come everyone else can do this? Other joggers don’t look like they’re having a heart attack… This is so painful, just stop… It hasn’t even been one kilometre yet and your lungs are on fire… This is pointless you’re not going to get to 5k never mind a bloody marathon…”
My negative thoughts would play on a loop until I gave in and walked (sulked) back home. I tried so many times, but each time I gave up. People advised me to run in a group but the thought made me physically cringe; imagine the embarrassment when everyone else could do the seemingly easy thing I couldn’t do. How would I explain that I had the fitness level of a 90-year-old? How would I be able to take 35 walking breaks if I was surrounded by people who kept running as if they were The Terminator? No thanks, I said, I prefer to run alone. Hmph, walk alone while listening to the passive-aggressive Couch To 5k woman’s instructions more like it.
At my lowest point, I bought the book. And it completely changed the way I thought about running. For those of you that haven’t read it, Ruth Field doesn’t hold back. There is zero-tolerance policy when it comes to excuses and bullshit – two things that I was absolutely full of when it came to physical exercise. The clue is in the name; if you like the softly-softly motivational approach I’ll tell you right now, this book ain’t the one for you honey.
I read it and started again from scratch. But this time I stuck to it. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a damascene conversion – I hated every minute of it. I’ve never grown to love running. I never look forward to it. I never will, but the point is I did it. I finished The Great Pink Run for Breast Cancer Ireland with a big red face and I was only delira with myself. Screw you brain.
Yeah, you guessed it, now I’m one of those people. One of those “if I did it, anyone can” types. Super irritating I know. So, I’ll save you the motivation spiel and give you my top 10 beginner’s running tips (learned the hard way) instead:
1. Download and follow a beginner running plan that alternates walking and running. It will help you to progress, both in distance and frequency of training.
2. Stretch before you do anything. I used to skip this step as I believed I was somehow immune to not-warming-up-injuries. I was mistaken.
3. In cold weather, wear a hat and gloves – believe me you’re never really as warm as you think you are.
4. Don’t force your breathing. Breath is regulated without conscious effort – aim for easy breathing, you should be able to speak without sounding breathless. This one took me a lonnnnng time.
5. Keep a logbook or note on your phone to track your progress.
6. Always bring water. You can get handy water bottles that strap onto your hand.
7. Avoid training with people who run at a faster pace than you (or aren’t at least willing to match yours).
8. Don’t shower just after running. I know the urge is strong but wait until your body temperature drops and you have stopped sweating, otherwise you’ll need to shower twice.
9. Buy trainers at the end of the day when your feet are already swollen and avoid shock-absorbing heels.
10. Don’t skimp on a decent sports bra. Unless you’re particularly fond of bruises on your chin.
