WFH diaries: Turns out, I’m a terrible runner
The confines of acceptable outdoor exercise forced me, a sworn enemy of jogging, to pound round my local park this week. And it was… disappointing, verging on humiliating. Ten minutes in I was beetroot-toned and sporting a searing stitch, and the muscle aches the following day were truly not worthy of what little I had accomplished – thank God my WFH uniform involves non-restrictive PJs and I can foam roll/groan loudly whenever I please.
So why not just exercise at home? The limitations of my one-bed-flat-stroke-gym became clear on day two (I’ve stubbed my toe on a 10kg dumbbell for the last time, thanks). Plus I think I’ve already pissed off the downstairs neighbours enough with my longing stares into their garden and attempts to befriend their cat (she’s having none of it). As for the other outdoor options: a walk just doesn’t cut it, and with cycling already a part of my routine, I felt I couldn’t replace what I was missing with more of the same.
And to tell you the truth, I genuinely thought this might be my time to finally get good at running. What else have I got going on? There’s only so long you can bicker over who gets sole use of the TV, and frankly I can’t spend another evening with my reading sound-tracked by the tinny explosions of Call of Duty. I had visions of bursting free from isolation gazelle-like, my friends in awe, myself sure and confident in this new skill that will keep me fit for life, all with no cost attached! After all, it’s just putting one foot in front of the other; it shouldn’t be hard. Except that it absolutely is. But I feel I can’t just give up – there’s enough negativity in the world right now (and potential for a small nervous breakdown), for my lack of resolve to pile on too. Time to refresh my technique, me thinks.
Want to try a new running technique while on lockdown? Read what writer Abby made of this tai chi-based approach to jogging.