This time next year Rodders…

The weather here in the UK has started to cool (great news for me being car crash white despite my legs being out since May), not so great new for my husband - who is only happy in temperatures of 25-40°c.

As autumn starts (ok I AM getting a little ahead of myself), I’m reminded that I am rubbish at progress.

Most years there’s an art show in a park that I cycle to for some safe-ish cycle training. Every time the art show is being built I tell myself that this time next year I’ll be able to spend longer on my bike (I had NO idea that peri was going to impact parts of my body I’d taken for granted), or that I’ll be able to run continuously or faster or that I’d finally drop some of the belly fat that apparently I’ve been complaining about all my life (but is really only now an actual issue).

So why do I seem to struggle with actually acting on these plans?

Honestly, other than a diabolical lack of discipline I have no answer. I can argue that occasionally I get struck down with migraine headaches (4 days of hell with a postdromal travel- sick day feeling afterwards when I feel better but like I’ve crawled a marathon). I can argue that I’m woefully perimenopausal with a slightly wonky thyroid that saps my ability to get decent sleep and have no energy.

But these are excuses.

The headaches are (happily) fewer than they used to be (thank you exogenous hormones), the wonky thyroid/perimenopausal excuse are valid, the fatigue can feel crushing, but, I know, I feel better after some movement. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 30 minutes. I know I’ll feel better if I move. It’s that first step. It’s getting away from the comfort of the sofa and my screens.

I’m also not where I want to be with my fitness (or physique), but small improvements are being made. My return to Parkrun is an example of this.

Yes, it’s a pain to get there (even as a resident of central London), it still takes a while to get to my local event. It’s hilly. There is no flat. Honestly. Not a single metre. You go up to get there. Down to start then it’s up, down, up, up again, ok maybe a slight/false flat, down, up, up, slightly up and then you do it all again for lap 2. The finish is at a higher point than the start. It’s brutal.

So I have every excuse to not go. But I’ve been going. Every week for the last 6. And though I’m still doing a run/walk routine (planned short walk recoveries instead of waiting until I need a recovery), I’ve seen my 5km times steadily come down.

Would I have seen these improvements if I wasn’t attending a local Parkrun? Maybe yes, maybe no. Would I go out on a regular Saturday run if not for Parkrun? Maybe yes, maybe no. Would I definitely take a Saturday morning off with a decidedly non-valid excuse? Definitely yes.

So I have Parkrun to thank for something and, I almost believe the hype around it (I would fully be drinking the Parkrun kool aid if I didn’t have a partner/family to come home to or to run with). I can fully see how the Parkrun initiative is a life line for many.

I guess I’m kinda low key grateful for going back to Parkrun, it’s made me work harder for sure - and I’ll be repaying my gratitude by volunteering at my local event (and encouraging my husband to continue his Parkrun purchases).

But the question still needs answering. Will I be faster or fitter or have less belly fat this time next year…? Will I have Parkrun to thank or my own diabolical laziness to blame.

Will I be able to write a coherent, flowing mini blog without getting sidetracked?

Written without editing, editor or proofreading - as usual.