The Roller Coaster
5.50 am I'm a camper
After sleeping through my alarm, it's a struggle to make my way out of the Fort Knox which is our tent, unzipping as quietly as possibly so I don't wake my sleeping family.
6.00am I'm an adventurer
I'm creeping around a deserted campsite, trying so stay off the gravel paths to let all the campers stay slothfully asleep in their tents. I'm an adventurer, up in the grey dawn, heading off to more exciting things.
6.15am I'm a runner
After much debate, I'm running the road from De Bretts to Mountain Road. It adds another 5km, but I was warned about vandalism of cars in the car park. Running up the State Highway is not high on my list of things to do, and I'm kitted out with a flashing red light so I don't get flattened by a truck.
As soon as I hit the main road, I can see Mount Tauhara, a charcoal shadow in the purple sky. It looks manageable.
6.40am I'm a jogger
Really? I've run less than half an hour, and I remember that I don't like to run. I like the feeling when I've FINISHED running, I like the environment which DISTRACTS me from running, I like sharing my running adventures and maybe embellishing the STORIES a little. But running itself is..... hard work. I remember that I really only run once a week, and although I talk about myself like I'm hard core, I know, deep down, that I'm a fraud. My pace drops. Mount Tauhara now looms and is unsurmountable. Tall and steep now that I'm close enough and there's enough light to judge it. 7.00am I'm a TRAIL runner!!
That's right, I just felt miserable because I was on the road! My feet hit the paddocks and feel lighter immediately. A car that passed me on Mountain Road is already parked, and at the top of the paddocks, maybe a km ahead of me, I can see a man walking with a tramping pack. I'll catch him in no time, and prance past like a pony while he wishes he was a trail runner too, rather than a boring tramper.
7.15 am I'm a walker... :(
I've made it to the bush line, in my natural environment. But my legs are heavy and my chest is heaving. Not enough carbs last night? Poor nights sleep on an airbed? That wheezing breath I've got again? Clare says it's Whooping Cough, I think it might be adult onset asthma , Tom says it's called UNFIT? Is it my running shoes? Oh no, that's right, I'm just not a runner. I think I'll call it quits. Just go home. But I can't even pretend I ran to the trig as everyone will expect to see the photo. At the time it didn't occur to me that no one even reads this blog, it's more of a diary. :( It also never occured to me to go home and admit I didn't do it. "Winners never quit and quitters never win" I've been known to say. "Go hard or go home". "No pain, no gain". Trudge, trudge, trudge. "Take a concrete pill". I need to find some quotes related to "admitting defeat gracefully". Considering new hobbies, trying to come up with something I might actually be good at. The young man walking ahead of me earlier comes prancing back down like a pony. He has a David Attenborough beard, a weathered face, and a tummy that rolls slightly over the top of his backpack waist strap just like mine does. This doesn't make me feel any better.
8.00am I'm a photographer.
Maybe I'll take up heli-hiking. 360 degree views. Lake Taupo is indescribably blue, Ruapehu is snow capped and the plains stretch all the way to the East Coast. I pine for the Canon DSLR and wonder why someone hasn't invented one which isn't 3 kg and bounces uncomfortably in a running pack. I want to capture everything I see, and my Samsung Galaxy phone is just not going to cut it. I try to take photos with my mind as well.
Trig 1266 Tauhara 1114m
8.15am I'm actually a downhill trail runner!
With the hard work done, my treacherous feet are suddenly nimble again. I know the paths are forgiving, not much to trip me, and I enjoy the sensation of being able to relax into the run down. I hit my stride, and my only stop is to chat to a group of ladies walking up. They promptly invite me to their farm which apparently has a trig on it!
8.40am I'm a runner
Tom's not here yet to collect me. The run back down Tauhara has improved my mindset so instead of curling up in a ball, I head off back down the road towards Taupo. My legs hit a rhythm, and I feel less weary than the outward leg.
I can make fun of myself as I write this, but the reality is that for part of this run, I was seriously hating it and considering other options. I happen to have read a couple of race reports today from runners who I respect from a safe Facebook distance. Now, these guys are running 4, 5, 6 times as far as me. And more than twice as fast. Yet, they used terms like "a flat patch", and "slow grind", which is not really how I'd describe the depths of my despair at not actually being able to run properly. And when I look at my Garmin 'stuff' my happy pace back down the highway, was consistent with my pace up it, not any faster. The section from 8 to 11km when I was a nimble footed-mountain goat back down the mountain, isn't anything impressive either.
So my anguish was purely in my mind,
not actually in my reality.
Apply that to everyday life.
