The Joy of Running Wrongly

I like running. It’s a time for you to zone out, drift through the world, feel the blood pumping in your veins to the thurump thurump thurump of your heartbeat.

But I think, technically, I might be doing it incorrectly, and I’m trying to work out how. Just in case I come across a wild boar and have to engage the latter part of the ol’ ’fight-or-flight’ mechanism.

There are a number of occasions where this comes to the fore. For example, when I’m out for a run, this is often what I see:

Determination. Focus. Controlled, even breathing. The occasional drop of strictly regulated sweat.

I don’t tend to stalk people, but if I were to pursue one of these ‘proper’ runners all around their route, I imagine they would maintain this disciplined appearance the whole terrifyingly long way.

However, the variation of running I tend to practice goes as follows:

Stage One: The Warm-Up Phase

Here we go! You set up your iPod (If you’re in an iPod mood), do a couple of stretches, and get going. Even footfalls. A quickening heartbeat. A calm façade as you contain the excitement of the adventure ahead.

Stage Two: The “Oh what a glorious day!” Phase 

The joy of running consumes you! You run to the beat of the music, pretend you are a professional runner, or a hero in a movie, or that all your family and friends are squeezed onto the pavement screaming “Go on! You’re so close!” and holding back tears of joy. You’re not running – you’re gliding, sweeping, soaring on the thermals of tarmac ‘neath your wingèd feet!

Stage Three: The “Just run to that lamppost… Now that one… Now that one…” Phase 

 The “Oh what a glorious day” Phase is a distant memory as the warmth in your limps is replaced by lactic acid and pure gravitational pull. Your earphones keep slipping out and attacking your shoes, you have stepped in faeces, and depending on the time of year kamikaze flies have their sights set firmly on your iris. You dodge yet another runner-hating car and motivate yourself by trying to work out what percentage of the route you’ve done. You work out what percentage of the route you’ve done and feel sad.

So there you have it. Most of my runs play out a little something like that. To be fair, there is a fourth stage, and that is the feeling of pride and happiness you feel as you tramp down the home stretch. But it is in this fourth stage that we find the root of my next concern…

I seem to think that completing a run warrants a nice big reward. A reward which is normally oozing calories.

It’s not until the dust has cleared and I realise I’ve completely nullified all the health benefits of the run that my pride is replaced by guilt.

And this guilt continues on the days I just can’t muster the energy or willpower for a run. I’ll be walking home from uni or work munching on a pastry and somebody will gallop past, judging me with their well-toned calve muscles.

But in the end, the guilt doesn’t last, or at least swings fleetingly back to pride later. Pursuit of inner peace should always outweigh the desire for toned calves.

And even if I am running wrongly somehow, I don’t intend to change my ways any time soon (Although I should probably start investing in fruit rather than pastries). We all have our ways of venting out steam or retreating into that special zone in our minds. Everything just becomes that little bit clearer when we find it. All our thoughts take on a sharper focus.

Mine just happens to be running wrongly.