Running up that hill

I have problems. So many problems.

Thrown into my 50’s with a brain that stubbornly refuses to believe it’s barely a day over 27 and a body that firmly believes it’s 72.

Throw into the mix a slightly wonky thyroid, or is it a slightly wonky immune system…? Whatever, my bloods show that my thyroid is beginning to struggle thanks to an attack from my very own immune system. Welcome to the world of autoimmunity. If I believed everything I read online (Reddit & Facebook), it’s the beginning of the end. Rationally, it might not get worse. Not everyone develops hypothyroidism despite anti thyroid antibodies, an out of range (but not worth treating) TSH, and T4 levels that are starting to drop.

These were only discovered because I felt like crap and went to my doctor. It was difficult to work out exactly what was new, what was to be expected (ie, you’re in perimenopause, it gets worse before it gets better) and what I was being blown out of proportion (ask any rational partner, they’ll tell you).

Tired, heavy legged and slowly turning into a Mr Man character (one of the round ones), it was decided to return to ParkRun. Yeah MASSIVE leap for someone that slow jogs as a walk/run three times a week but lives forever in the past when running was easier and somewhat enjoyable.

My local ParkRun is a trail run. The start is at the top of a long hill and this is not even where the hills stop.

It’s famously a hilly run, so hilly in-fact, that running YouTubers don’t bother visiting.

It wasn’t the hills that put me off. Well, they did, but it was more that this ParkRun used to attract a LOT of people I knew. Kids and their parents from schools, kids and parents from the local club I used to coach at… now imagine, your friendly local running coach who talks the talk but can’t walk the walk (or rather, chooses to walk the run).

Gratefully the 7 year gap has seen off most (if not all) of the families that would run the free, organised Saturday run.

My return was not one covered in glory. It was covered in dust and bug bites.

The relentless hills (it’s Hampstead Heath, the hills ARE relentless), the perimenopausal chaos bringing about a random bleed (yay fibroids) and bloating (yay peri) and the unwanted Great British heatwave (yay global warming) all set out to punish this lazy midlife ex coach.

I made it round in over 30 minutes. The final hill all the way to the finish chute) near enough put me in an ambulance.

But I returned the following week. Two weeks in a row? What is this sorcery?

Week 2 saw a 20 second improvement. I might have soaked through my clothes with a heady mixture of sweat, suncream and the other variety of fluids still leaking out of my body (seriously when does this crap end?), but it was faster.

Still a long way from my ParkRun personal best that sits on the app haunting me, reminding me of a time when a size 10 pair of shorts would fit effortlessly and chub rub was something I only read about, it’s a work in progress.

Now, week 3 is in a few days. Wish me luck. Or rather, wish my husband luck, as he drags this chubby, sweaty, reluctant (but still wants to improve) mid life run-walker around our local ParkRun.