Are endorphins addictive? I’m only asking…

Posted: 18/01/2012 in Uncategorized

A little background: I was knackered today – not sure why, maybe from the trip to Leeds yesterday – though I don’t see why, other than the cramped conditions I was in… I also had a bit of a rubbish day (because I was tired, amongst other things) and finished the day working late and coming home feeling decidedly miserable and grumpy.

So I thought a little run out might cheer me up, despite having been out this morning, and in spite of J’s frankly “are you mad?” questioning look when I told her (she was on the phone, so couldn’t offer a fully rounded response). I figured that:

  1. Running makes me feel better about life – I suspect this is the endorphins, but whatever it is, it’s kind of nice, warm and comfy
  2. The house was hot, and as I felt dozy already it wasn’t going to help my sleepy mood (or my grumpy mood)
  3. Sometimes it’s better to get it out of your system, rather than be miserable at everyone else
  4. I wanted to try out my old North Face Hammerhead backpack with it’s new hydration bladder

All the above led me, kitted up, out of the door and into the night. I also figured it was about the right time to see what state my body was in run-wise; start going and see what happened. So no headphones, no intervals, no targets, just me, my feet, the night and a sense of anticipation.

I turned north, and headed towards the lighthouse, falling into what I can only describe as a lope – I need to get someone to film me sometime so I can see what I look like, I bet it would make me laugh. Still, on I went, past the Spanish City, past Panama Dip, past the Mini-Golf Course and up to the lighthouse road. For a moment I was tempted to keep going to Seaton Sluice, but a niggle in my right thigh reminded me that this was the first non-stop run I’d done, and I had to get home yet.

I turned around, walked for a moment to get a drink of water and then headed back the way I’d come. I ended up stopping twice on the way back – some kind of wonky stitch the first time, then a stitch that went under my belly and across to both sides the second time – when I say stopping, I mean walking for a minute or so to assess and figure out whether I was about to die or not. Turned out not, which was nice.

Anyhoo, big cheer for me, first non-stop, longer than a Parkrun and somewhere in the half-hour for 5km mark. Bodes well for Parkruns and for the 10k in April, I reckon. I’m still keeping to the 13 week plan, mind, this was a bit of a steam-letting experiment to see what would occur.

Right, time for tea and tidying, I reckon.

Could quite fancy a fag, mind…

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