I had a bad run this morning. Bad, because I wanted to give up. Good, because I didn’t, and ran-walked the entire 45 minutes at 99% of my body weight, conquering nausea, boredom and the voice inside my head.
That little voice has many names. Matthew Inman, the genius behind The Oatmeal calls it The Blerch.
For the whole story, read http://theoatmeal.com/comics/running
My voice is doesn’t have a name yet, but she smokes and sounds like Bart Simpson’s aunt Selma. She likes to trash-talk and telling me how much I suck.
Anyway, this morning my Bad Run Voice started her crap just after I broke into a run at the two-minute mark and the sweat was already pouring down my face. Most of the time I manage to ignore her, but this morning she was like a rusty nail scratching my spine. It was loud and clear and sounded a little like this:
Why is it so hot? Do you feel it too? It’s JUST SO HOT!
OMG – just look at you sweating! When did you get so unfit?
Stop! Just stop, dammit. You are five minutes in and you look like you’re about to die.
You suck. You really do. I don’t know why you think you’ll be able to do Tri-Rock Robben Island in October.
You’re going to be last. You know that, right? You’re going to suck at the swim, bike and run. People will laugh at you.
Can’t we just go home and have breakfast?
Please stop. You still have 35 minutes to go. You’ll never make it.
Booooooooriiiiiiiiiiiiiing. This is booooooooooriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!
Oh for fucksakes. Quit this workout right now. You are going to have a heart attack.
Hahahaaaaaaaaaaa… just wait ’til Steve sees you in action. He will tell you to withdraw from 70.3. Oh, I can’t wait to hear him say that.
Really? REALLY? Turning up the volume is not going to work. Marilyn Manson can’t drown me out.
You suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
Just think of the yummy cup of tea you can have when you get home. hhhmmmmmmmm…. so nice and warm and lovely. All you have to do is stop running.
I know you’re listeniiiiiiiiiinnggggggg… you can’t ignooooooooore meeeeeeeeeee…
HA! Walking, I see? Soon, my pretty… soon you will stop.
Chocolate. I know – you want chocolate!
C’mon, let’s just go home. I know you want to.
HA! I saw you looking away from the mirror there. Go on… look at yourself. Have a proper look. You are FAT!
Who are you trying to impress? Not me. I know you. I am you.
***********
And then I looked up and saw that I only had three minutes left, so I decreased the speed and walked until my time was up.
Then I looked in the mirror. Took a good look. And I saw her – a tiny little flickering flame in my eyes. Not the trash-talking voice trying to convince me to quit, but the other one. The strong, silent one. The one who doesn’t have to say much, because the strongest ones know they don’t need to be the loudest.
