It’s a spring Bank Holiday Monday, so naturally the weather is abysmal. I am studying today, at home, steadfastly refusing to put the heating on. It looks more like November out there!
On Friday I completed a lovely walk with my father, Harwich to Mistley, getting bits of me sunburnt along the way. I definitely picked the best day for that!
I haven’t run much in the last fortnight. Not least because the achilles pain I thought I had beaten has surfaced again.
I did two 4-miles last weekend on Friday and Sunday. The week before I phoned in a 5k at the Castle Park Race for Life – 31.04 when my target had been sub-30. That’s not exactly a difficult target, yet I missed it by what feels like miles. The most realistic extrinsic excuse I can give is that for the last mile, one has to dodge the people that are walking the race and so lose any rhythm or momentum.
However, that wasn’t the real reason that I did so badly. It was all about mental attitude. As soon as I thought I had missed the sub-30 target, I gave up. Normally even after a 10k training run I can find the energy for a sprint over the last 100metres, yet at the Race for Life I could barely be bothered to jog to the line. I surprised myself by how quickly that sense of failure turned itself into a lack of motivation and energy. I have been pondering this for some time now, trying to work out how I can stop that kind of self sabotage in future.
It’s not just there that my confidence has taken a bashing.
I’m struggling again with faith and trust, with more complications in family relationships. I can’t see anything but a bleak future on this; and I am so utterly frustrated with the situation that all I want to do is scream and shout and howl with anger at both God and my brother. Yet if quiet prayer or quiet advice doesn’t get through (to either of them) will howls do any better?