Reflecting on my year as a non-slob

All-in-all, I've been running for about 10 years. It started when I won my year 7 cross country and WAS IN THE NEWSPAPER (the article was later taken off the wall of the headmaster's office after I got caught sneaking out of school to buy some sweets... but that's another story), and ended when I was about 16 and thought that getting off with my permanently-stoned boyfriend was much more productive than running round a track...

I started it up properly again about a year ago; the Bristol Half Marathon was looming and I also had an aim to complete at least one cross-country race that season (a very strange aim, I am well aware). Since then I've spent, well... bloody loads of hours, to be honest, pounding the streets, thinking about times, distances and whether I am STILL running like a hunchback after many, many back massages. This has also given me a bit of time to think about what my half-life-long hobby has taught me about myself... *LIST KLAXON*

I am more determined and committed than I ever thought possible
Last night at the track I was struggling with my 400m reps. Instead of sulking and/or giving up, I went to the toilet (gluten problems, hahaha) and when I came back out asked Dave to put my watch back to 84 seconds (per lap). I had it changed up to 86 after the first five reps but after a quick chat with myself in the loo (spending some quality time with myself) I was determined to prove I could do it faster. Back when I was a teenage knob I would've pretended I had a stitch and sat out (sorry Dave) but NOT THE NEW EMMA. I am now one of those annoying people who loves to 'push themselves to the limit' and will probably be paragliding off Everest, if you give me a couple of months.

Me being a sulky little teenager and Soph looking concerned that I'd act like that forever 

I don't need to get drunk both days of the weekend
Sooo many times this year I've gone for a lime and soda instead of a quad-vod - something that I used to (and still do) consider "BORING, OH YOU ARE SO BORINGGGG". I unashamedly love to get drunk and dance like a loon, but I also love running and have learnt that unfortunately I can't go out on the Friday and expect to get a PB on the Saturday. It's actually really hard choosing to be sober when I could revert to my party animal ways and sometimes I feel like the most boring person in the world, especially when my times aren't even that great. But luckily my friends don't take the piss too much. Which leads me onto...

I have the BEST friends
Never, ever, everrrrr have any of my close friends complained about me running/talking about running/not coming out because I'm running. Well, not to my face anyway hahaha (no girls, I'm sure you never would). Every time I have a race - even if it's just Parkrun - I can count on a text from AT LEAST Rosa and Simone, and if they are up early enough then Mott, Robyn and the rest of the girls are pretty on it as well. And they always like my running photos on Facebook. Which, obviously, is what friends are for.

My wonderful friends (most of them)

I don't like yoga
Running isn't for everyone, and yoga isn't for me. I tried it once as a way to relax and whatnot, but I just don't feel like it does anything. I know people have told me that it does loadsssss for you and makes you really strong and flexible blah blah blah, and I'm sure it does. But I like the feeling after a run of being absolutely shattered, covered in sweat (sweat fetish, its the new thing dontcha know?!) and knowing that I've worked my absolute ass off. Yoga just doesn't do that for me. I wish it did, so I could be all lean and long-limbed, but it doesn't. Soz yoga babes. 

I am easy to spot in a crowd
This may not be scientifically true, but bloody hell, my family have got amazing eyesight. They spot me EVERY SINGLE TIME I race. Especially hard in events like the Bristol Half, where there's 15,000 people running, Dad and Rach have been squashed against a railing for nearly two hours and Mum has just ran to meet them (after finishing it herself). EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. And they always tell me I'm looking really good even if all four of us know that I look like utter shite. 

The year we all did it and Dad was left as head cheerleader

My feet are disgusting
I have been told on many occasions that my feet are 100% my worst asset. I'm fine with that, as it means my banging personality is shining through and no one is noticing how badly I need to get my roots done. My main defence of my grim feet is 'but I run loads...', as if this excuses the black toenails and weirdly stumpy baby toe. But on top of this, I also have to deal with blisters. The bane of my life, as I'm sure many other runners will tell you, is a big bulbous blister. YUMMYYYY. It's so unfair, trying to do something good and being rewarded with a puss-filled lump, ready to explode at any point. And that could be on your way to work, while you're on a long run or - even worse - when you're in the bath. IMAGINE, bathing in blister puss. Mmmmmmmmm.

I AM SO SORRY

I am really hard on myself
Every time I do a time that I think is too slow, I cry. And if I think I haven't trained very well, I think about it loads and punish myself by doing a hill session like some sadistic weirdo. So I suppose, running this year has taught me that I'm actually a bit of a perfectionist and need to be nicer to myself. Looking at how messy my bedroom is, my mum would definitely disagree (it's like a graveyard for half-empty glasses and dirty clothes), and maybe I need to convert some of that perfectionism into the rest of my life... But yes, I have been told more than once to not be so hard on myself and I'm finally realising that it's true. I've knocked 9 minutes off my 10km and 5 minutes off my 5km this year AND have reached my 8 stone goal, so I think deserve a little pat on the back from myself. 

After a workout, I don't look half bad in lycra and my abs sometimes say hey
This is quite contradictory to my previous point, oh well. The other day I did a 6km run and straight away did my 7 minutes app (it really is my saviour). I saw myself in the mirror afterwards and decided that (this is SO bigheaded I don't even know if I can type it)..... I actually looked alriiiight (oioiiii). I took a photo of this momentous occasion because I'm one of those selfie twats and realised that I've worked really hard this year and now I look at that photo quite a lot. AND NOW I'M GOING TO SHARE IT ON THE INTERNET (sorry mum, dad, the twat police).

Excuse the barnet

I have become an 'organised sports activity geek'
Since I quit running for Bristol and West AC when I was 16, I'd become one of those cynics who thought organised sports teams were a bit weird. WELL, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THEY ARE NOT (well they are a tiny bit). Bristol and West is one of those clubs that welcomes absolutely everyone, and since I've started getting my times down people have been so kind and supportive. Running folk are the nicest people in the world. And it's fun to be part of a club, so THERE.

I AM A RUNNER
I had a blast from the past while I was out the other night (I was drunk as well, proving that it is still possible!!!). We were having small talk, and he said 'aren't you, like, a runner now?'. I laughed and said 'kind of'... and as I walked off I realised, I ACTUALLY AM A RUNNER. 

It's been a good year.

'WOW!! She's definitely a runner'