A rest day today.
It wasn’t going to be, but a couple of km into my run I felt completely out of breath and realised I’d forgotton to take a puff of Ventolin before I set out. Asthma doesn’t usually bother me when I’m running, but today was very, very, VERY cold and that can sometimes trigger it. So I sacked it in, called it a rest day and accepted I’d drop a few places in the leader-board. 4km total for the day is pretty poor, especially as my arch rivals all put in mega mileage. I could go out again now, but I can’t be bothered.
A bit defeatist, yes.
I’ve never been a high achiever though. Most of my life I’ve ambled along selecting the path of least resistance. I have something of a knack for identifying actions that deliver maximum reward for minimum effort. I’ve generally been successful in life using this technique – usually at the expense of diligent hard working people
This behaviour has always extended into my sporting endeavours. I am not a natural winner. I do not have a killer instinct for victory. Once, in university, I managed to lose 24 consecutive games of pool. Fair enough if it was 24 games of pool against one person who was better than me – this was, in fact, a variety of opponents some of whom could barely hold a pool cue and spent most of the time with it stuck up their nose. I’m not a bad pool player but a I have a losers mentality, and by the time I’d fluffed the 7th or 8th game I was so convinced I was going to fail it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I only won in the end because one of the other players ate a ball or something equally ridiculous. I can’t remember now.
So yesterday’s small flicker of excitement that 6th place in Janathon was within reach was tempered with a realisation that I’d inevitably wake up to find the weekend runners had put the boot in. And sure enough, a quick check this morning saw me falling faster than a Pop Idol’s chart single after a drug scandal. The question is, how to react? A winner would step up to the plate. Grind out the miles. Get back in the fight. Make this a harmless, temporary failure blip not a permanent catastrophe.
But one shambling 4km run later and I’m holed up in front of the TV under a duvet.
I’m going to fight on. I want to be top ten, at least, by the end of January. I’m not sure why. Is there any difference between being 8th or 26th? There are no medals, ticker tape parades or naked dancing girls at the end of this. Just a sense of personal satisfaction.
Which has never, historically, been enough to motivate me to do anything.
Perhaps January 2012 is the month things change. Or perhaps I’ll just spend the next 16 days under this duvet.
Find out tomorrow!