Move it Move it.

It was an uphill struggle.  Partly because I knew what was coming.

The disappointment in myself from last week. The disappointment I heard in other people when I told them I ducked out after lap 1.  The way it just hurt so much…  The nonsense going through my head.

Last week I was Little Miss Prepared.  Everything was accounted for, ready to go, all eventualities prepared for.  Clothes out ready. For me and the kids.  Breakfast out ready to go… I saw it all play out in my head. “Make it so…”.  And so it was.

This time could not have been more different.  I couldn’t find the special easy to hold water bottle.  My sports bra (one of two – but the easier to put on / change) was (still is) missing somewhere in the house. The clothes I wanted to wear would have to go in the drier in the morning upon waking.

The Littlest little one had a rather dodgy night, (they’ve both got colds), so he didn’t stir at his usual 6am pre breakfast snack time.  No – he slept solidly until I had to wake him at 8am.  #badmummy.

The Eldest Little One was awake reasonably early, but earlier than I wanted to deal with her!

What with one thing and another, 15 minutes after I wanted to leave I called time on the project today.  The Eldest Little one still needed her hair doing and getting shoes/coat on.  The Littlest Little one wanted another feed.

So we skipped on the Parkrun.  I noted how it felt different to last week.  I’d said I wanted to do something, and I did.  But as my heart wasn’t in it – the whole family was upturned (or so it felt) by my halfheartedness.

If I’m going to do it – it has to be with the same energy and passion I had that first week.

So, instead we went to the local Res.  I fired up the Fitbit app on my phone and logged how far we walked. The Eldest Little one rode the Buggy Board.  The Littlest Little one does what he always does when outside – he slept.

And so we walked round. The miles started to add up.  1.5 from the car park round to the cafe.  So we doubled back.  Much to the annoyance of the Eldest Little one.  Near the sailing club we admitted defeat and she and Daddy sauntered back to the cafe. I stormed back that way with the Littlest Little One and tried to get the counter to hit the magic 3 miles… (5k).

Just at that point where we parted company I felt it get a whole lot easier. Up to that point it just felt like a fight. My inner “Buttercup” was complaining the whole way. “Hurts…”. “The legs hurt”.  “The calves hurt”.  “More things will start hurting soon”.  “The hips are going to start hurting…. I’m warning you….”

A phrasSuckitUpButtercupe sprang to mind – which is where that alter-voice got its name from.  Suck it up Buttercup.

You’re alive.  You have the ability to move so move it or sodding loose it and don’t complain about losing it if you don’t move it.

So I moved it.

I also realised where all this reticence about moving came from. Or one of the big gestalts anyway. In my teens I had Glandular Fever.  A good couple of months out of action and if I’m honest black holes in my memory.  Memories of fading in and out either in bed, or nested on the sofa getting bored with daytime TV.

Aftewards, just feeling so damn tired.  So tired that even blinking makes you feel sick. Breathing makes you just want to curl up and stop.

Nothing filled me with more dread than “Going Shopping” with Mum. Even one of those times “going shopping with Mum and Nana for clothes for christmas”.  I’m sure Mum just thought I was being a typical teen with faceache and moods most of the time. And maybe at times, I was.  But most of it was this energy draining tired-pain. Everywhere. All.The.Time.

So my formative years, when I should have been building the associations of feeling good when moving my body, achieving something by exercising?  No. All that was associated was pain.  And more pain.  And tired. With more pain.

Don’t breathe…. Don’t move….. Don’t Think…. Just.Don’t…..

So yes.  Its been a good day.  I did 5k.  I did it on my own – with the help of my family and my dearest dear one.

I will do parkrun.  But I have a few more demons to catch first.

I’m thinking of getting a game created to rival Pokemon Go!



Oh yes… my time.  According to Fitbit… 3.18miles.  in 1h 8m 54s.  A pace of 21’42”.

A starting point.

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