If ever there was a zombie apocalypse, or if for any reason running was the only option to preserve humanity – I, Lisa J. Ariffin, self-proclaimed running reporter – hereby offer myself as first tribute because:
1. I am a nice person.
2. I cannot run to save my life. (This is secondary. I’m doing it because I’m a nice person. Really)
There you have it. I cannot run to save my life. In fact, I cannot run 1km now without stopping to catch my breath.
Hey Lisa! Remember when you used to run full marathons for fun?
I do not.
As per my 2015 resolutions, I had vowed to attend every single triathlon club meet this semester – and attend I did. Yesterday, I was the first to show up at the cycling tracks and first to go home (after 5 minutes) because I did not have a helmet with me and was not allowed to participate. Today, I was the first to show up for interval training and first to go home (after 5 minutes) because I could not keep up with the running group.
Yes. I was left trailing the rest of the 30-or-so group. I was left trailing so far behind that I decided to hide in a bush until they turned a corner, then I walked home. My “run” was less than 1km.
So how did I manage to go from this:
1. I don’t know, really.
2. Might be the weather, really.
This is not an excuse. Seriously, it might be.
As you likely know, I now reside in lovely Cardiff, where the people are (somewhat) friendly, food is (somewhat) tasty, drinking water is free (tap), parks are beautiful, milk is cheap, potatoes are abundant, and weather is shit.
Presently, the temperature outside is 6°C, “which is warmer now than when you were back in Malaysia for the holidays”, said Dom. I don’t care. It’s freezing and it hurts my chest and lungs when I run.
To be fair, the first time I tried running outdoors was yesterday evening. Weather was warmer then, and at 7°C, I was out running in shorts. And by running, what I really mean is struggling. I could not run 400m without stopping to catch my breath. If ever there was a point in life when I sunk to the lowest – that was it. That gut wrenching few seconds when I stopped, bent over, put my hands on my knees, and almost fainted from exhaustion.
I walked 11.1km anyway, but what is going on here? Whatever happened to running 6 hours without stopping? Whatever happened to running 1km without stopping? What happened to running 500m without dying? (Figuratively of course, you Grammar nazis)
I now fear the next triathlon meet on Thursday and would likely cry in bed instead while the others are out on their long-distance training.
Seriously though, is it the weather that’s making breathing difficult? Or has my body given up on me completely?
I guess I shall find out on Thursday. For live updates, follow me on Twitter @lisajariffin as I tweet from the back of the running pack, or behind a bush.