Stubbed my toe on the little table in the living room. Stubbed the wrong toe. My toenail flipped off like that’s what it intended to do after all. Didn’t even bleed. Just came off. Guess I’m going to have to wrap it up now, especially if I run tomorrow.
Gosh dangit.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Schrödinger's Toenail
While I’m running, the second toenail and fifth toenails on my left foot, as well as the third toenail on my right, exist in a state of quantum uncertainty. Are my toenails alive, or dead? The general lack of pain in both feet isn’t at all indicative.
But on an unrelated note, I ran my fastest 5 kilometres ever, yesterday morning. There’s this newfangled thingie called Parkrun, which is an organised timed 5 km run that happens at 8am every Saturday morning. They have these runs in a bunch of countries, and they’re free. You just sign up, print off your personal barcode and show up with the barcode at the run.
Yesterday was the first run, and the Canberra run is at Lake Ginninderra. Anyone in the region who’s looking for something to brighten up their Saturday mornings should come along. You can find more information at the Parkrun Australia website here, and the Ginninderra Parkrun site here. There were 91 runners this week, and I came in 39th. Yay! Good for me! I couldn’t stick around for the coffee at HaHa bar afterwards, didn’t have any cash with me, but next week I’ll definitely try to.
But back to the issue of the moment, namely my feet. I know it’s boring, and people might think it’s gross. But hell, this is my blog and if I want to talk about weird toenails, nobody can stop me. I dunno... people seem to have these weird heebie-jeebies associated with feet. I don’t really understand. Everyone has feet, unless they don’t.
If I started talking about having broken a fingernail, would people get up in arms and call me disgusting? I don’t think so, somehow. Well, maybe some people would.
I think the blisters started because I’m a toe gripper. I grip with my toes more when I’m sprinting or when I’m trying to keep pulling myself along when I’m tired. Maybe I should try to learn to relax my feet.
Anyway, I haven’t lost any toenails yet but it’s only a matter of time. Then, I guess it’s goodbye to open-toed shoes for the time being. Oh well. It’s not really the time of year for sandals anyway.
But on an unrelated note, I ran my fastest 5 kilometres ever, yesterday morning. There’s this newfangled thingie called Parkrun, which is an organised timed 5 km run that happens at 8am every Saturday morning. They have these runs in a bunch of countries, and they’re free. You just sign up, print off your personal barcode and show up with the barcode at the run.
Yesterday was the first run, and the Canberra run is at Lake Ginninderra. Anyone in the region who’s looking for something to brighten up their Saturday mornings should come along. You can find more information at the Parkrun Australia website here, and the Ginninderra Parkrun site here. There were 91 runners this week, and I came in 39th. Yay! Good for me! I couldn’t stick around for the coffee at HaHa bar afterwards, didn’t have any cash with me, but next week I’ll definitely try to.
But back to the issue of the moment, namely my feet. I know it’s boring, and people might think it’s gross. But hell, this is my blog and if I want to talk about weird toenails, nobody can stop me. I dunno... people seem to have these weird heebie-jeebies associated with feet. I don’t really understand. Everyone has feet, unless they don’t.
If I started talking about having broken a fingernail, would people get up in arms and call me disgusting? I don’t think so, somehow. Well, maybe some people would.
I think the blisters started because I’m a toe gripper. I grip with my toes more when I’m sprinting or when I’m trying to keep pulling myself along when I’m tired. Maybe I should try to learn to relax my feet.
Anyway, I haven’t lost any toenails yet but it’s only a matter of time. Then, I guess it’s goodbye to open-toed shoes for the time being. Oh well. It’s not really the time of year for sandals anyway.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The Running Dead
Took a short 5km jog this morning. Wanted to do more, but I’ve never been good at the running-2-days-in-a-row thing, so I didn’t really feel up to it.
Anyway, I want to talk about something that I thought I’d talked about before, but apparently haven’t. Which is odd, because it’s something that I’ve been into since maybe February, and it’s intrinsically linked with my running escapades.
I’ve been using an iPhone app called Zombies, Run!, which is, according to the website:
...an ultra-immersive running game for the iPhone, iPod Touch, and Android. We deliver the story straight to your headphones through orders and voice recordings - and back home, you can build and grow your base with the items you've collected.
It’s a game where you run from zombies. In the simplest terms, that’s it. Except, to date, the Android version hasn’t been released yet. When I first heard about this game it was a kickstarter project, and I couldn’t stop myself from contributing. It had two of my favourite things: Zombies, and running. So I chipped in some money, and the project became massively overfunded, and the game got made.
Basically, what you do is select a playlist, and choose from the list of available missions, then you start running. It uses the GPS (on the iPhone at least, iPod Touch uses the accelerometer instead) but it doesn’t look for where you are or make you run toward anywhere in particular. If you’ve turned the zombie chases option on, every now and then it’ll make you speed up while you get these little radar beeps in your headphones that indicate how close the zombies are.
The voice acting is excellent, and the story is really riveting. There’s also a couple of story elements that can be followed up outside of the game if you’re into the whole ‘alternate reality game’ thing. Which I am.
So, if you’re into running, and zombies, and running from zombies, and you have an iPhone, I recommend that you get your hands on this game. It’s a real motivator.
Anyway, I want to talk about something that I thought I’d talked about before, but apparently haven’t. Which is odd, because it’s something that I’ve been into since maybe February, and it’s intrinsically linked with my running escapades.
I’ve been using an iPhone app called Zombies, Run!, which is, according to the website:
...an ultra-immersive running game for the iPhone, iPod Touch, and Android. We deliver the story straight to your headphones through orders and voice recordings - and back home, you can build and grow your base with the items you've collected.
It’s a game where you run from zombies. In the simplest terms, that’s it. Except, to date, the Android version hasn’t been released yet. When I first heard about this game it was a kickstarter project, and I couldn’t stop myself from contributing. It had two of my favourite things: Zombies, and running. So I chipped in some money, and the project became massively overfunded, and the game got made.
Basically, what you do is select a playlist, and choose from the list of available missions, then you start running. It uses the GPS (on the iPhone at least, iPod Touch uses the accelerometer instead) but it doesn’t look for where you are or make you run toward anywhere in particular. If you’ve turned the zombie chases option on, every now and then it’ll make you speed up while you get these little radar beeps in your headphones that indicate how close the zombies are.
The voice acting is excellent, and the story is really riveting. There’s also a couple of story elements that can be followed up outside of the game if you’re into the whole ‘alternate reality game’ thing. Which I am.
So, if you’re into running, and zombies, and running from zombies, and you have an iPhone, I recommend that you get your hands on this game. It’s a real motivator.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Mad Props, and the Nasty Toenail Crisis
Okay, a few recommendations for you. I’ll post the first tonight, the second tomorrow.
I recently took the plunge and joined a new social networking website. I don’t do this lightly, as I’m keenly aware of the number of useless websites that are sending me spam on an almost daily basis, and the number of websites I’ve signed up for and only visited once or twice. There’s so much shit out there, and I know I have to streamline my online presence eventually.
What was I saying? Sorry, I’m a little drunk. Oh, yeah. A new social networking site. It’s attractive to me, because it’s fitness related. I can record my fitness activities on there and the site turns it all into a sort of game. There are quests, achievements, challenges... The site is Fitocracy, If you’ve never seen the site, I recommend you check it out regardless of your current fitness level for one main reason: If you try it out, and you dig the format, it makes working out a helluva lot of fun. See, when you’ve finished a hardcore workout, and you’re feeling strong and fit and awesome, sometimes you feel like a douche when you go to post a boasty little “Fuck yeah” on Facebook, as surely people don’t go on there to see that sort of shit, and they’ll feel obligated to ‘like’ your status so that you know they’re paying attention... So on and so forth.
Disregarding the fact that everybody does that with every aspect of their lives on Facebook anyway, it just feels even more like a douche move when you’re going on there to say “Sprinted til I hurled. Wicked cool”.
What I love about Fitocracy is that it’s the same shameless self-promotion, but that’s exactly why everyone else is there. They want you to know how much they bench, how fast they run, how many squats they can do. You want to know, because you’re into that shit. You want them to know that you know. The Fitocracy alternative to ‘liking’ someone’s status, is to give them props. People give you props for walking up the stairs rather than taking the lift. Because it’s dope. People give you props for getting achievements for getting props.
It does seem a little silly, but it’s a silly that I like. It’s motivating. I want to get out there and do cool shit so I can post it on Fitocracy and get props for it. I want to get quests and achievements. It’s pretty damn fun.
And it brings me to another point. Since the marathon last week, I’ve had three black toenails (Actually, to be perfectly honest I already had one black toenail before I ran the race, but now there’s three). I think it’s caused by blood blisters under the nail, at least in one case. I’m terrified that the bloody things are just going to randomly drop off. I posted something about it in the runners community on Fitocracy and got props from a whole bunch of people. I thought surely I’ve discussed the black toenail conundrum previously, but I just checked and I haven’t, at least on this blog. Apparently, and you may find this gross, some runners consider black toenails to be hallmarks of a hardcore runner. Because although some of the comments considered it as a bad thing, a large proportion of the people who commented were basically expressing congratulations. For the marathon. For the toenails. For everything all at once, because I rock.
Anyway, if you’re on Fitocracy or feel like kickstarting your fitness funtime, you can follow me on there. My username is (somewhat predictably) Frankenberger.
Now I’m going to go sleep so I can get up in the morning and run again. I ran this morning (just a speedy little 10km) but I’m determined to post another awesome workout on Fitocracy. For the props, doncha know.
I recently took the plunge and joined a new social networking website. I don’t do this lightly, as I’m keenly aware of the number of useless websites that are sending me spam on an almost daily basis, and the number of websites I’ve signed up for and only visited once or twice. There’s so much shit out there, and I know I have to streamline my online presence eventually.
What was I saying? Sorry, I’m a little drunk. Oh, yeah. A new social networking site. It’s attractive to me, because it’s fitness related. I can record my fitness activities on there and the site turns it all into a sort of game. There are quests, achievements, challenges... The site is Fitocracy, If you’ve never seen the site, I recommend you check it out regardless of your current fitness level for one main reason: If you try it out, and you dig the format, it makes working out a helluva lot of fun. See, when you’ve finished a hardcore workout, and you’re feeling strong and fit and awesome, sometimes you feel like a douche when you go to post a boasty little “Fuck yeah” on Facebook, as surely people don’t go on there to see that sort of shit, and they’ll feel obligated to ‘like’ your status so that you know they’re paying attention... So on and so forth.
Disregarding the fact that everybody does that with every aspect of their lives on Facebook anyway, it just feels even more like a douche move when you’re going on there to say “Sprinted til I hurled. Wicked cool”.
What I love about Fitocracy is that it’s the same shameless self-promotion, but that’s exactly why everyone else is there. They want you to know how much they bench, how fast they run, how many squats they can do. You want to know, because you’re into that shit. You want them to know that you know. The Fitocracy alternative to ‘liking’ someone’s status, is to give them props. People give you props for walking up the stairs rather than taking the lift. Because it’s dope. People give you props for getting achievements for getting props.
It does seem a little silly, but it’s a silly that I like. It’s motivating. I want to get out there and do cool shit so I can post it on Fitocracy and get props for it. I want to get quests and achievements. It’s pretty damn fun.
And it brings me to another point. Since the marathon last week, I’ve had three black toenails (Actually, to be perfectly honest I already had one black toenail before I ran the race, but now there’s three). I think it’s caused by blood blisters under the nail, at least in one case. I’m terrified that the bloody things are just going to randomly drop off. I posted something about it in the runners community on Fitocracy and got props from a whole bunch of people. I thought surely I’ve discussed the black toenail conundrum previously, but I just checked and I haven’t, at least on this blog. Apparently, and you may find this gross, some runners consider black toenails to be hallmarks of a hardcore runner. Because although some of the comments considered it as a bad thing, a large proportion of the people who commented were basically expressing congratulations. For the marathon. For the toenails. For everything all at once, because I rock.
Anyway, if you’re on Fitocracy or feel like kickstarting your fitness funtime, you can follow me on there. My username is (somewhat predictably) Frankenberger.
Now I’m going to go sleep so I can get up in the morning and run again. I ran this morning (just a speedy little 10km) but I’m determined to post another awesome workout on Fitocracy. For the props, doncha know.
Monday, April 16, 2012
And I! Would! Walk! Five! Hun! -Dred! Miles!
Or rather, run. Sorry, that song has been stuck in my head since yesterday and I can’t seem to shake it.
My official time for the marathon yesterday is in, and according to the website I managed to scrape through in 4:46:02. While this didn’t top my goal of sub-4:45, it’s still a personal best and I’m not going to be disappointed about it. I managed it, never hit the wall, and while I took several short walk breaks (of no more than a minute at a time) I’m going to stick to my guns and tell the world with no misgivings that I ran that bitch. I RAN the shit out of that bitch.
The first thirteen or so kilometres of the run were easier than I’d hoped, and even verging on fun. This is for one reason: Distraction. I had my best running buddy along for the ride, running her first half-marathon. It’s amazing how much more awesome things can be with an awesome running buddy to annoy. I feel bad that I fucked up the first couple of minutes of her race with my garmin mishaps, but I’m so proud that she managed to finish her first half in the time she wanted. Two thumbs up, you awesome lady, you!
Yeah, garmin mishaps. So now I’m going to bitch and whine about my reliance on technology and how I’d love to be one of those runners who can just strap on shoes (or not even that, barefoot runners are pretty hardcore) and run out the door of a morning, but I know that any such thing would be at least semi-bullshit. I need my time, my heart rate, my pace. Without that, I’m blind and even stupider than usual. So when we started the race, and my garmin still hadn’t found the freaking satellite, I had no other option (in my mind, at least) than to stop and wait for the little bastard to get a signal. Maybe lost a minute. No big deal, but I freaked the fuck out. And I didn’t get an accurate time for the race. It doesn’t really matter. But in any case, sorry ‘bout that, Dina.
After the half-marathon turn-around point, I plugged in my headphones, cranked some Flock of Seagulls and tried not to focus on the fact that I was already in a bit of pain. My knees weren’t too bad, my right leg had been giving me issues for a couple of days but it wasn’t too bad, however I was still a bit hurty and I can’t put my finger on how. I chugged my first gel at about twelve kms, did a second at about the 20k mark. Don’t recall where I hit the third, but I know I did four in total. Ended up coming home with four gels in my bumbag, and only two of them were ones I’d brought with me.
Here I am, at the halfway point. I love this sign.
Best thing about this whole escapade is that when I hit 31 kms, I was expecting that it was only a matter of time before I fizzled out. But the marker passed, and the next, and the next, and I was still running. Even at the end, I hadn’t walked more than four or five times. I did go blind at one point, at least temporarily. Glycogen depletion is a bitch. My vision greyed out, and my brain wouldn’t interpret the things I was seeing. Things went a little migraine-y. I felt dizzy, drunk. Does this mean that I bonked and don’t even want to acknowledge it? I don’t think so, but some of these symptoms match up with hypoglycaemia, so maybe I did. But I was still running.
The end hurt. My back, my hips. The last two kilometres were pure hell, and I kept wanting to walk it in, maybe dash the last hundred metres, but people who ran by me kept on pushing me forward. Saying that I’d be cheating myself. Come on, you can do it. I ran, even though I was sobbing with pain and the anticipation of relief. I ran, and I finished.
Had to take today off work because when I tried to get out of bed this morning, I just couldn’t. A day of diligent, painful stretching has led to legs that are somewhat functional (although sitting down and standing up still means a little bit of yelping) but my hips are still painful, and my back is a minefield of agony. Those stretchy bandages are a wonder though, for my legs. I wish they had stuff like that for my back.
Maybe I need a massage. I can’t really afford a massage.
Moral to this story: I am an idiot who deserves everything she gets. But hell, I’m an idiot who has run two marathons. So screw you, sensible person!
My official time for the marathon yesterday is in, and according to the website I managed to scrape through in 4:46:02. While this didn’t top my goal of sub-4:45, it’s still a personal best and I’m not going to be disappointed about it. I managed it, never hit the wall, and while I took several short walk breaks (of no more than a minute at a time) I’m going to stick to my guns and tell the world with no misgivings that I ran that bitch. I RAN the shit out of that bitch.
The first thirteen or so kilometres of the run were easier than I’d hoped, and even verging on fun. This is for one reason: Distraction. I had my best running buddy along for the ride, running her first half-marathon. It’s amazing how much more awesome things can be with an awesome running buddy to annoy. I feel bad that I fucked up the first couple of minutes of her race with my garmin mishaps, but I’m so proud that she managed to finish her first half in the time she wanted. Two thumbs up, you awesome lady, you!
Yeah, garmin mishaps. So now I’m going to bitch and whine about my reliance on technology and how I’d love to be one of those runners who can just strap on shoes (or not even that, barefoot runners are pretty hardcore) and run out the door of a morning, but I know that any such thing would be at least semi-bullshit. I need my time, my heart rate, my pace. Without that, I’m blind and even stupider than usual. So when we started the race, and my garmin still hadn’t found the freaking satellite, I had no other option (in my mind, at least) than to stop and wait for the little bastard to get a signal. Maybe lost a minute. No big deal, but I freaked the fuck out. And I didn’t get an accurate time for the race. It doesn’t really matter. But in any case, sorry ‘bout that, Dina.
After the half-marathon turn-around point, I plugged in my headphones, cranked some Flock of Seagulls and tried not to focus on the fact that I was already in a bit of pain. My knees weren’t too bad, my right leg had been giving me issues for a couple of days but it wasn’t too bad, however I was still a bit hurty and I can’t put my finger on how. I chugged my first gel at about twelve kms, did a second at about the 20k mark. Don’t recall where I hit the third, but I know I did four in total. Ended up coming home with four gels in my bumbag, and only two of them were ones I’d brought with me.
Here I am, at the halfway point. I love this sign.
Best thing about this whole escapade is that when I hit 31 kms, I was expecting that it was only a matter of time before I fizzled out. But the marker passed, and the next, and the next, and I was still running. Even at the end, I hadn’t walked more than four or five times. I did go blind at one point, at least temporarily. Glycogen depletion is a bitch. My vision greyed out, and my brain wouldn’t interpret the things I was seeing. Things went a little migraine-y. I felt dizzy, drunk. Does this mean that I bonked and don’t even want to acknowledge it? I don’t think so, but some of these symptoms match up with hypoglycaemia, so maybe I did. But I was still running.
The end hurt. My back, my hips. The last two kilometres were pure hell, and I kept wanting to walk it in, maybe dash the last hundred metres, but people who ran by me kept on pushing me forward. Saying that I’d be cheating myself. Come on, you can do it. I ran, even though I was sobbing with pain and the anticipation of relief. I ran, and I finished.
Had to take today off work because when I tried to get out of bed this morning, I just couldn’t. A day of diligent, painful stretching has led to legs that are somewhat functional (although sitting down and standing up still means a little bit of yelping) but my hips are still painful, and my back is a minefield of agony. Those stretchy bandages are a wonder though, for my legs. I wish they had stuff like that for my back.
Maybe I need a massage. I can’t really afford a massage.
Moral to this story: I am an idiot who deserves everything she gets. But hell, I’m an idiot who has run two marathons. So screw you, sensible person!
Saturday, April 14, 2012
You really want to know what I listen to in a race?
So, here’s an excerpt of the playlist I’ve set up for tomorrow’s Marathon. I know that there’s at least one song on here that will make every person who reads this, regardless of their musical taste, go “What the ever-living fuck?” but it can’t be helped. I’m a complex person. I listen to embarrassing shit. Haters can hate, but if you hate I will pout. Then I’ll get over it, and I’m the one who’ll be running along tomorrow, getting down to this funky-ass playlist.
It may seem a little short, but like I said, this is just an excerpt. There are songs that even I can’t admit I listen to because they’re so goddamn embarrassing. Think of the daggiest song on this list, times that by ten, and you’re coming close to the audio sewage that I’ll be wading in, somewhat self-consciously.
So for those who’d rather keep their mental picture of me being awesome intact, look away now! Without further ado (and for some reason, in semi-alphabetical order of artist):
A-ha - Take On Me
(no explanation required, I should think. This song rocks.)
Apocalyptica - Ruska
Barenaked Ladies - Another Postcard
Beck - Girl
Beck - Go it Alone
Beck - Nicotine & Gravy
Beck - Tropicalia
Billy Idol - Mony Mony
(yes.)
The Black Keys - Tighten Up
The Black Keys - Run Right Back
(not the only song with a fitting title)
Cake - Comfort Eagle
Cake - Rock ’n’ Roll Lifestyle
Cake - Wheels
Cake - Satan is my Motor
The Chemical Brothers - My Elastic Eye
Childish Gambino - Bonfire
Childish Gambino - Heartbeat
Florence + The Machine - Dog Days are Over
Foo Fighters - Bridge Burning
The Glitch Mob - Drink the Sea
(the whole album)
Gorillaz - Superfast Jellyfish
Justin Timberlake - What Goes Around...Comes Around...
(yes, I went there)
Kanye West - All of the Lights
(and there)
Jackson Five - ABC
Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks
OK Go - Here it Goes Again
Oomph - Beim Ersten Mal Tut’s Immer Weh
Oomph - Revolution
Outkast - Hey Ya
(shake it! SHAKE IT!)
Pendulum - Propane Nightmares
The Presets - If I Know You
Queen - We are the Champions
Rammstein - Sonne
Rammstein - Ich Tu Dir Weh
Rammstein - Feuer Frei!
Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Can’t Stop
Survivor - Eye of the Tiger
MC Hammer - U Can’t Touch This
The Hives - Go Right Ahead
Vitamin String Quartet - Motion Picture Soundtrack
Weezer - Undone (the Sweater Song)
Weezer - Say It Ain’t So
Why? - The Vowels Part 2
30 Seconds to Mars - The Kill
The Mars Volta - L’Via L’Viaquez
Blind Melon - No Rain
Poison - Every Rose Has it’s Thorn
(this is when we start sliding downhill)
Flock of Seagulls - I Ran
(yeah. But it’s topical.)
Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
(as is this)
The Proclaimers - I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)
And, on that note... :)
It may seem a little short, but like I said, this is just an excerpt. There are songs that even I can’t admit I listen to because they’re so goddamn embarrassing. Think of the daggiest song on this list, times that by ten, and you’re coming close to the audio sewage that I’ll be wading in, somewhat self-consciously.
So for those who’d rather keep their mental picture of me being awesome intact, look away now! Without further ado (and for some reason, in semi-alphabetical order of artist):
A-ha - Take On Me
(no explanation required, I should think. This song rocks.)
Apocalyptica - Ruska
Barenaked Ladies - Another Postcard
Beck - Girl
Beck - Go it Alone
Beck - Nicotine & Gravy
Beck - Tropicalia
Billy Idol - Mony Mony
(yes.)
The Black Keys - Tighten Up
The Black Keys - Run Right Back
(not the only song with a fitting title)
Cake - Comfort Eagle
Cake - Rock ’n’ Roll Lifestyle
Cake - Wheels
Cake - Satan is my Motor
The Chemical Brothers - My Elastic Eye
Childish Gambino - Bonfire
Childish Gambino - Heartbeat
Florence + The Machine - Dog Days are Over
Foo Fighters - Bridge Burning
The Glitch Mob - Drink the Sea
(the whole album)
Gorillaz - Superfast Jellyfish
Justin Timberlake - What Goes Around...Comes Around...
(yes, I went there)
Kanye West - All of the Lights
(and there)
Jackson Five - ABC
Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks
OK Go - Here it Goes Again
Oomph - Beim Ersten Mal Tut’s Immer Weh
Oomph - Revolution
Outkast - Hey Ya
(shake it! SHAKE IT!)
Pendulum - Propane Nightmares
The Presets - If I Know You
Queen - We are the Champions
Rammstein - Sonne
Rammstein - Ich Tu Dir Weh
Rammstein - Feuer Frei!
Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Can’t Stop
Survivor - Eye of the Tiger
MC Hammer - U Can’t Touch This
The Hives - Go Right Ahead
Vitamin String Quartet - Motion Picture Soundtrack
Weezer - Undone (the Sweater Song)
Weezer - Say It Ain’t So
Why? - The Vowels Part 2
30 Seconds to Mars - The Kill
The Mars Volta - L’Via L’Viaquez
Blind Melon - No Rain
Poison - Every Rose Has it’s Thorn
(this is when we start sliding downhill)
Flock of Seagulls - I Ran
(yeah. But it’s topical.)
Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
(as is this)
The Proclaimers - I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)
And, on that note... :)
Reflections: You've come a long way, baby!
So I had this dream that I was walking down the street on which I used to live. I found my old house, and it looked just the same as it did when I lived there. For some reason, I didn’t have any issues with opening the door and walking right in. The house was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. I knocked on my old bedroom door, and someone said “What?” in a fairly pissed-off tone. I poked my head in, and there I was, lying on the bed, eating ice-cream.
It was me, and I think I was about 15 years old, or thereabouts. I had terrible hair, I was pale, I looked unhealthy. I was quite chubby.
The dream kind of fell apart at this point, but if the dream continued and I could control it, I know what I would have done. I would have sat down and told the younger version of myself that I’m running my second marathon on Sunday. I would have told her that life isn’t always as shit as it seemed back then. I would have said that there’s more to life than unhealthy food and television. I would have told her that she’d live to the age of 30. She’d actually enjoy running and being strong and she’d actually come to like the way she looked. She’d come to love herself, if only occasionally.
I would tell the 15-year old me that there would be ups and downs throughout her life, that she would get fatter before she got thinner, then she’d only lose 5 kilos before she gave up and got even fatter than before. I would tell her that this was okay, because crash dieting isn’t a sustainable method of weight loss. And one day, she’d lose the weight and she wouldn’t put it back on. I’d tell her that the way she used to say that she would never be a size 10 because of her bone structure was a load of bullshit, and one day she’d be wearing a size 8 in some stuff and she’d still have fairly decent tits.
I would impress upon the 15 year-old me that it is possible to run 42 kilometres without dying, that speed isn’t everything and even though she would be slow, she would always get there in the end.
I would tell her that she would one day kick herself out of her misery spiral, and she would come to realise the beauty in the universe.
And, only after I’d told her all this, and I’d made her promise that she’d cheer the fuck up, only then, I would take her ice-cream and I would eat it, because ice-cream is awesome. And I want some ice-cream. Why don’t I have ice-cream?
I would tell you what the moral behind all this is, but I don’t really think there is one.
It was me, and I think I was about 15 years old, or thereabouts. I had terrible hair, I was pale, I looked unhealthy. I was quite chubby.
The dream kind of fell apart at this point, but if the dream continued and I could control it, I know what I would have done. I would have sat down and told the younger version of myself that I’m running my second marathon on Sunday. I would have told her that life isn’t always as shit as it seemed back then. I would have said that there’s more to life than unhealthy food and television. I would have told her that she’d live to the age of 30. She’d actually enjoy running and being strong and she’d actually come to like the way she looked. She’d come to love herself, if only occasionally.
I would tell the 15-year old me that there would be ups and downs throughout her life, that she would get fatter before she got thinner, then she’d only lose 5 kilos before she gave up and got even fatter than before. I would tell her that this was okay, because crash dieting isn’t a sustainable method of weight loss. And one day, she’d lose the weight and she wouldn’t put it back on. I’d tell her that the way she used to say that she would never be a size 10 because of her bone structure was a load of bullshit, and one day she’d be wearing a size 8 in some stuff and she’d still have fairly decent tits.
I would impress upon the 15 year-old me that it is possible to run 42 kilometres without dying, that speed isn’t everything and even though she would be slow, she would always get there in the end.
I would tell her that she would one day kick herself out of her misery spiral, and she would come to realise the beauty in the universe.
And, only after I’d told her all this, and I’d made her promise that she’d cheer the fuck up, only then, I would take her ice-cream and I would eat it, because ice-cream is awesome. And I want some ice-cream. Why don’t I have ice-cream?
I would tell you what the moral behind all this is, but I don’t really think there is one.
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