One step at a time.

Last week, my still-recovering torn ligament screamed at me as soon as I stepped onto the treadmill. Having gone to the gym with the full intention of running at least 5K to kick start my half marathon training, the fact that after three minutes my lungs felt like they hated being in my body and my knee was going to buckle with every step I just went into a corner of the weights room and started to cry.

Not pretty crying, not dignified crying, but full on, snotty, heaving, ugly crying. I didn’t even have any tissue on me so I was heavy sniffing to try and not leak everywhere and I actually felt bad for whoever walked by and accidentally got a glance of me.

Even with my boyfriend’s attempts at calming me down by telling me I should never have expected to be able to go back to running 5k in under 20 minutes having just recovered, I felt like I had failed myself.

I used to exercise so much and feel fine, and that day, not being able to run even 10 minutes made me seriously doubt the amount of work I’ve done and all the progress I’ve made in running in the past couple of years. How had two weeks out of action made my ability to do a cardio workout get so bad?




And to be honest, a few days later my time of the month arrived, so I’m just gonna chalk the whole episode down to PMS.


Yesterday, after my first exam of this semester, I went back to the gym. I did a few breathing exercises to clear my head, and tentatively stepped back onto the treadmill.

The result? (and I apologise in advance for the shaky quality)




It took me way longer than 10K outside would take me, but the half marathon training has finally begun properly!

The whole time, my boyfriend had been right, I couldn’t focus on the bad runs because it was my body telling me it till needed to heal.

All I had to do was give it time and stop trying to rush something that was ultimately going to hurt me more if I kept trying to push it.

Unfortunately, I am an emotional person, and there was no one I knew around me to celebrate with me, so, I went back to my corner in the gym, and yep, I cried. Again.

This time with pure, unadulterated joy.


I didn’t even text my friends to tell them because I was so tired from the actual running, but I couldn’t help but be so happy that I could finally say I  was able to see myself actually being able to take part in and successfully complete the half marathon next month.

The whole time I was on that treadmill, it was a constant battle between wanting to keep going, go faster, go slower, and stop. But, that’s just what running is. Putting one foot in front of the other and just… keeping going. Constantly telling yourself that you are able to push through and get to your goal.

Even if it means bursting into tears at the end of it!

Happy Friday guys!

C x


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