Yesterday I had a sort of out of body experience. Well, not really an out of body experience exactly. Not like the ones you hear about, when people are dying in hospital and they say they just floated up out of their body and watched themselves down below. I didn't have that. What I had would maybe be better described as an "out of personal context" experience? I know that's not much better. Bear with me and I'll try to explain.
I have been doing my Tuesday run club now for four weeks and my Monday one for two. Last week I did my Monday class, my Tuesday club, and I went for a run on the Thursday too. It was only yesterday, halfway through my 4k run with the ladies from run club (that's right, 4k without stopping, check us out!) that I realised I had become the person I used to watch running down the street, on their second out of four potential runs that week. That infuriating, super motivated person who didn't look like they were actively dying right there on the street. There I was, in the freezing cold, dark October evening, jogging along quite happily, chatting to the ladies about how easy this was all getting. (Chatting while running! Actual speech creating capabilities. While running!)
Seriously when did that happen? I can't remember there being an actual moment where this transition noticeably came about but somehow, running is no longer wholly unpleasant for me. It's not fun, let's not exaggerate now, but it is definitely not unpleasant.
I do feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop though. Like maybe the Running Gods are just lulling me into a lovely false sense of achievement before they make me twist my ankle or some such punishment. While I wait for the other shoe to drop I plan to revel in this realisation that I am edging ever closer to being able to call myself a proper runner. "Proper" by the standards which I have set for myself, not any ridiculous standards set by those photoshopped running magazine ladies. (Psst: they're not real!).