Couch to 5K: Losing My Momentum


Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

So I gave up on Couch To 5K. Only a little bit, mind, not completely.

But I’ve not been running for a few weeks because…life got in the way, basically.

That’s a terrible excuse, I know.

Actually. I take that back. I don’t need to excuse myself. I don’t give a monkeys if you care that I haven’t been for a run in a fortnight. I doubt you even care, so I’m doubly not going to apologise for that.

You might remember my last Couch to 5K post was a while ago, and I detailed how hard I was finding the jogs, and that I’d hit my own personal wall with regards to the entire running lark.

Life then got in the way, I got a weird cold, my period slapped me in the face and I never want to run when I’m cramping no matter how many articles will repeatedly tell me exercise is a healer. Reece went on holiday so I wasn’t able to keep my routine up, Elliot got chicken pox and turned into a velcro child so I couldn’t walk to the toilet on my own let alone go for a half hour run, I also got a stinking chest infection which just threw me back a thousand steps as well.

Overall, everything just went out the window and got blown away in Storm Gareth and I decided to just give up and let myself just be taken away by the wind. Imagine my will to live being Jack floating down under the water at the end of Titanic.

Unfortunately, I have realised that I felt better when I was running regularly. I was feeling more, that’s for sure.

Not like Beyonce style feeling myself but I would come home and feel proud of myself, which is a lovely emotion that doesn’t come out often. I would sometimes come home and cry because half an hour of running around with my own thoughts was like therapy (with me coaching myself through my own thoughts so probably not the best kind of therapy) and I felt stronger, both mentally and physically.

Anyway. Back to the actual point, this is me telling you. And myself, mainly because we already know you don’t really care. I’m telling the void that I’m going to start moving again.

It might not be Couch to 5K, okay! I don’t want to pressure myself into the timings of the runs, as I find myself counting down the seconds and the minutes instead of actually thinking about  and enjoying the physical act of running, which I think is the actual point.

I’ve been contemplating dragging the yoga mat out again. A few years ago I really enjoyed Yoga With Adriene and got really into it, I even managed crow pose one and was touching my toes on the regular. But then, as per usual, life got in the way and I ended up letting the yoga mat gather dust behind the sofa.

I even found myself staring at my swimming costume the other day, daring myself to pop down to the pool for a few lengths. Bear in mind, I haven’t done any proper swimming since I was about 12, so this would be a real jump into the unknown. My main reservation with this idea is that they haven’t sorted out a way that I can listen to music whilst swimming. I’m not here to listen to Barry in the slow lane huffing and puffing.

I’m going to tentatively dip my metaphorical toe into the metaphorical pool and see what works and what happens and, as always, will keep you updated when I inevitably give up on this new venture in three months time.

See you then!


Couch To 5k Diary: Week 2 & 3

Hi and welcome back to Hayley Becomes Slightly Less Lazy.

Week 2 of my ~running journey started with the same excitement from Week 1, as I felt so positive that I could do this.

I’m a runner now, baby.

Photo by Ev on Unsplash

I was wandering around between runs imagining how I could do a half marathon one day. Dreaming about waking up on a Saturday morning and doing a quick 10K before popping into town for a matcha tea with Reece and Elliot.

The initial embarassment of running around the block had begun to slip away and I became more confident in what I was doing. Going out at 8:30am on a Sunday morning helped, when you’re running and the only other people you see are also huffing and puffing it feels so much better.

It helps you to realise that no-one really sees you when you’re jogging along the street, even though you might be worrying that everyone is laughing at your wobbly bits.

Everyone has their own shit going on, whether they’re off on a jog at 8:30am themselves, off to church or off home after spending the night at some guy from the club’s house. No-one is going to give a monkeys about me jogging around the estate unless I a) run into them or b) accidentally sing Childish Gambino lyrics out loud.

Because yes, it’s also the perfect time to remember that you still know all the words to Freaks and Geeks.

ANYWAY. That was Week 2.

This marks the point where I gave up last time. I just couldn’t bear running for 90 seconds, and I started to worry that Ted Bundy was around every other corner so retreated inside the house for 12 months.

I was so worried about Week 3, especially as I’d made the mistake of looking ahead and realising I had to run for three whole minutes during that session.

But, I’m a runner! I grabbed my trainers and ran out excitedly into the street.

And. It was really fucking hard.

My legs ached, I couldn’t breathe properly and I felt defeated after cruising through the first two weeks.

It was also REALLY cold which might have had something to do with it.

After putting a plea out over Instagram stories asking why am I feeling so rough this week after being so good so far, I found a few tips.

Next week will be Week 3.2 and I’ll be making sure to drink more water (who knew coffee and cake wasn’t a sustainable diet?!), eat a snack before I go out and go back to listening to the back catalogue of Fall Out Boy as my trusty soundtrack.

Wish me luck!