Training: Week Eighteen

No running talk this week. Let’s talk about HOW I’M FEELING. (Spoiler: Not great; I’m struggling)

• Weary
• Bollocksed (official word)
• Slightly manic
• Overwhelmed
• In denial
• Poor (haemorrhaging money)
• Amateurish
• Unfit
• Pressured
• Still happy (ish)
• Nervous
• Unqualified
• Tired
• Tired
• Tired

I’m totally OK with feeling all these things, I’d take a bet on it’s all pretty normal. I’m trying to not let any of these feelings take over though. Just feel the feelings and let them go, like clouds floating in the sky…. <think calm thoughts>

One thing I’m not really feeling I guess is unprepared. Not quite sure why as there are still loads of things I need to do, a few things I need to buy and a big list of things to research, but maybe it’s to do with the training. I’ve been doing it for a long while now (feels like FOREVER) and have had a few events where my confidence has been boosted. One thing I’ve said all along is that I want to stand on that start line knowing that I’ve done as much as I can while still living a life, and I still think I’m pretty on track with that.

Sure, there’s been a few days where I haven’t run as far or as long as I’d like (or at all), but overall I’ve stuck to the plans pretty damn well for someone who doesn’t like planning.

But I’m just feeling so damn Tired. Tired of EVERYTHING. Not just physically tired (think of it as more weary than tired) but mentally tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of talking. Tired of doing.

I’m good, still smiling and happy, but just in need of a break and a bit of time alone. Physically I don’t feel too bad but mentally I’m exhausted.

Today’s run included a couple of proper crying fits. The proper, can’t-quite-breathe-properly sobbing type crying. Not cried like that…for a bloody long time. Just an amalgamation of everything and I felt loads better afterwards, always good to get it out.

I think at the root of it is fear. I’m scared I guess. Scared of failing. Scared of letting people down. Scared of hurting myself so I can’t run any more. Scared of not being able to start. Scared that it will be awful. Scared at how far it is. Scared I’ve not done enough training. Scared I’ve done the wrong kind of training. Scared everyone else will be so much better.

Most of the time these are thoughts that are nicely hidden away and generally I do a good job of keeping them there. But when I talk to people about my training, or the event, people (unintentionally) bring them back  up, mainly by projecting the fears that they would no doubt feel onto me.

Such as “Wow, that’s a really long way. Ooh, aren’t you nervous? That’s going to be tough. You’re going to hurt. You’ll go to some dark places while doing that. It will be awful. Do you think you can do it? I don’t think you can do it. Eurgh, running in sand? That’s going to be hell. I’d hate to run in sand.” And so on. (Yes, these are all things people have said to me.)

You see, my way of preparing and dealing with things is not to know the detail. To not to want to know what’s coming up until I’m actually right there staring whatever it is in the face. Because that way I have to, and there’s no point in worrying about anything before I start. (Yes, the big details I prepare for, but it’s the little things like day to day stuff) So people wanting to talk about these details, and then exclaiming in horror when I don’t know, doesn’t really help me. It just keeps dragging those fears up again and sometimes maybe I listen to them. It’s like I’m stood on the top of a cliff quite a way from the edge, quite happy doing my own thing and then every time I have the above it’s like someone pushing me a bit closer to the edge, one push at a time.

So right now, I don’t want to talk about my training. Or the actual event. Or how ready or not ready I am.

And it’s not just the ultramarathon. The same goes for my NZ plans. There’s fear there too, and the same applies. Scared it won’t go well. Scared that Mike will change his mind, that I’ll be a disappointment. That I won’t be able to get a job. That I’ll miss my family and friends. That I won’t make any friends.

But. The sensible part of me knows this is just a natural, passing phase. A few more weeks and I’m there. Thank fuck.