The post race slump (or, The One in which you lose all your momentum)

Tough Mudder done!

Sometimes, in the last week, I can’t believe that I’ve actually successfully completed Tough Mudder. I’ve spent the last 6 months obsessing over it. Training hard, increasing my running and swimming distances, immersing myself in ice water and obsessively watching obstacle videos from previous Tough Mudders. My friends have heard nothing from me but how I’m doing this or this due to Tough Mudder, how I can’t drink as I’m training tomorrow and how increasingly nervous I am becoming as the time of the race grew near.

This is the dangerous thing about focussing so much on one race. Because on Sunday morning after the race, I woke up, partly crippled and sporting several bruises, and the whole obsession had stopped. It had been replaced by fatigue, relief, pride and a lifting of the mystery veil that had been hanging over the race. I spent the whole day lying in my bed in pyjamas, eating everything in my kitchen and intermittently trying to scrub semi permanent marker off of my arm. And thinking. Remembering the race. Smiling at some parts of it (the hug I received from a complete stranger when I burst into tears at the end of it) and winching at others (the realisation that had I fallen backwards at one point of my human gecko traverse, my foot was jammed in such a way that I would surely have snapped my ankle).

Meandering around on recovery day

On Monday, the Bank Holiday, I headed out to limp around London a little. Gentle walking, I thought, is surely enough exercise for someone who still can’t bend her knee. I headed out to Westminster Bridge, ambled through the busy Southbank area, then wandered round the canal trails of Westbourne Park (hoping the find the infamous Parkour Generations Leap Park). I sunbathed and ate in cafes and took random photos. There was no urgency to start training or rush somewhere. I haven’t had a day like it, so free from internal expectations, for a long time.

Eventually, I found myself in Oxford Street, wandering through a glitzy HMV. This is where I did something that may have been a mistake - I bought arcadey PS3 game Lollipop Chainsaw. Some of you may know that previously, my slightly addictive personality was focussed on gaming – a lot of it. I especially love original games, with new ideas and new styles of game play (Okami springs to mind). I used to spend hours and hours playing games, getting 100% of special levels and Easter eggs. So it was definitely a dangerous move on my part to buy something new.

Lollipop Chainsaw, my new obsession

Back home, I switched on my PS3 for the first time in over a year. I finally stopped playing at about 2am (my alarm clock was set for 6.15 am). I could feel my gaming obsession switching back on a little, and my fitness obsession receding slightly.

But, now that I’ve started with a more active outlook, a more active life, I don’t want to stop! I don’t want to go back to being the girl who can’t run for more than 30 seconds. No way! I quite like the idea of being a survivor of the inevitable zombie apocalypse. Plus, I love running. Once you are in your stride, the feeling of the world flowing around you, your breathing calm and regulated, your muscles working strongly together – no thought in that time but the desire to keep going. That feeling, no game can replicate. I love races too. The build up of excitement, the start line the camaraderie with other runners. The event villages are pretty sweet too!

But despite this, I know that I can relax a little now. I don’t have the constant thought that if I don’t train hard enough every day, week on week, that I will surely fail the challenge. Instead, I can afford a little time to really enjoy running with less pressure. I don’t need to fret if I have the occasional unplanned day off. I can spend it slaying zombies for a better high score, planting thousands of Farmville crops and, maybe occasionally, breaking into my college work (we’ll see about that last one!).

The next challenge!

Don’t count me out of the race scene, though. Tough Mudder may have been the biggest one so far, but it wasn’t the first, and it certainly won’t be the last. Want to know how I know that? Weeellll, I sort of, kinda already booked in for the Wolf Run in September. Better get training, then. Damn.

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